The Orphanage is Drowning_Arriving United_The Neighbour's Garden_Who we are in the dark
Catalog Guide:
The Orphanage is Drowning
The power went out at exactly 10:37, leaving us in complete and total darkness. I carried my bulky bed comforter and pillow to my brother’s room, easing between the cool floor and my warm blanket. I shivered in the silence.If only I knew how long the silence would last. ***When I woke up in the morning, the floor wasn’t cold, it was wet. From my surprise, I sat up quickly, sloshing the water that surrounded me. “Dixon!”My brother stirred on his dry bed, his breathing becoming normal as he slightly opened his eyes.“Dixon, there’s water on the floor!” I finally stood up, realizing the amount of...
Arriving United
"Donde esta Mama Faustina?" I ask shyly, as I buy a toy from the children selling hats and finger puppets. I speak just enough broken Spanish to confuse the locals, and I hope that my use of words for "where is?" is accepted. Pointing earnestly, the kids must have understood, for they eagerly guide me in the www.onedoor.ccdirection of a tinny-sounding parade.I was late joining the others in the courtyard and became disappointed to find my friends were no longer lingering. Feeling disconnected, I step through the doorway out to the road. I hear music trailing down the many streets that fall away from the por...
The Neighbour's Garden
“So, you’re gonna lay down here and cross your arms like this and I’m gonna use this shovel to bury you.” “Won’t mom be mad?” “Can’t be mad at a dead person, right?” Laying there in the little hole they spent all afternoon digging, looking up at his big brother who’s head was now invisible because of the intense sun that hung over everything and cast a disorienting heat, the little boy considered this notion. He didn’t know any dead people, not personally at least. “What about someone really terrible? Can you be mad at someone like that after they die?” He asked. “There’s no point in it, they...
Who we are in the dark
A shadow of my sister sits on the windowsill. I see her by her edges- moon glow skimming down her curved spine, glancing across her arm and long, graceful fingers, then flowing down silken pyjama-clad knees held hugged to her chin. I hold my breath and hear the soft sigh of the wind, the occasional muted snuffle.We haven’t shared this room in years. We have outgrown the pastel pink walls, tired-looking now and pocked with greasy marks from our rebellious teenage years of tacked up band posters. A row of long-forgotten stuffed toys looks down on us judgementally from atop looming twin wardrobes...