THANK YOU_A Tyranny of Clocks_BIRD BRAIN_Walking Them In
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THANK YOU
Today I had a long day, lost in an essay writing competition at the school, and had to work an extra hour at my part-time job. I had to adjust with oats and milk for dinner as neither I could make time to cook nor afford to buy myself dinner. But no matter how my day goes, one thing that I can’t compromise is with studies. So, just like every other day, post-dinner, I sat down to read my notes and complete my homework. I was tired and sleepy, but I had a long way to complete my assignments. I on FM radio in a hope of being awake. But that didn’t seem to work, for in less than a few minutes, ...
A Tyranny of Clocks
The clockmaker’s mansion overlooked the town. Built on the foundation of a scorched castle, she’d inherited the home from whose window she now watched the sky deepen over the sleepy town. She was tired, too. A full-night’swww.onedoor.cc rest didn’t enter her musings, though–not anymore... Taking a last sip of tea, she laid down. She didn’t change into bedclothes–she didn’t own any. They seemed pointless and inconvenient, given her nocturnal routine. The town looked sleepy, but she knew better. There, tonight, time would start, stop, or do both; it would change, and she would have to answer its call. She’d i...
BIRD BRAIN
***WARNING: This story is meant for adult children. Profanity where necessary.* * *Hello. My name is Peppy. I’m a parrot. I’m gray, and I’m also an African Grey. I have soooo many words that I can say. Vocabulary. I am a pretty bird and I eat corn. I’m so smart. I’m not just a pretty beak. I sing pretty songs. 'Cain't nobody teeell me no-thin'. I'm gonna take my horse down to Old Town Road. I'm gonna riiiiiide 'til I cain't no mo'. See? So, not just a pretty bird. I can bark like a dog, I can moo like a cow, I can oink like a pig, I can mew like a cat. I know Old MacDonald Had a Farm. I can...
Walking Them In
TW: This story contains allusions to domestic violence, child abuse, and abortion.He went back to smoking before I did.I showed up outside the clinic one morning with my customary black coffee and bran muffin. He was standing next to the motorcycle I told him he could buy when he turned fifty. There was a half-done Parliament in his hand. I expected him to toss it when he saw me pulling up, but he kept right on puffing. That was how I knew he’d had a bad day.“Are they back again,” I asked, receiving a slight nod in response. Jeff isn’t much of a talker, but he has a variety of nods that I can...