Fighting Through the Fog_Determination is Rewarding_Brand Trafalgar_The Doll.
Catalog Guide:
Fighting Through the Fog
SENSITIVE CONTENT: Refers to Domestic AbuseThe fog rolls off the Pacific Ocean, covering the hills surrounding San Francisco in an impenetrable cloak of gray. From China Beach, the last glimpses of the Golden Gate Bridge vanish as if its bold red arches had never been suspended there at all. Only the pulsing of the ocean’s waves — in rhythm with my pounding heart — remain, echoing through the fog.How am I here? Two thousand miles from home, walking unfamiliar terrain, hiding because my next breath depends on it. But the closer the fog encroaches on the beach, the nearer the danger comes, the m...
Determination is Rewarding
“Are you ready?” asked Travis. He was supposed to be dead, but he visited Nicole often, so he couldn’t be. “No,” she replied. “I don’t think I’ll ever be ready.”“Pussy,” said her mom from the chair in the corner. Her mother was in Chicago most of the time, hundreds of miles away, but somehow she managed to sit in that chair every night. Usually she only said one word at a time, and that word was usually something bad. Nicole tried to ignore her mother, to focus on Travis. “I’m scared, okay? I am terrified. That just means I’m sane, it doesn’t mean I’m a…” She shot her mother a filthy glare. “I...
Brand Trafalgar
“Thanks a lot,” said the delivery driver as the receiver signed his proffered tablet, then he waved and left. The box with the Brand Trafalgar logo had been sitting proudly and unexpectedly on the step as the receiver opened the door. The bell had rung and there it had been, the driver standing by for a signature.Puzzled, the receiver wondered what on Earth it could be, and who might have sent it. The box was quite large. It wawww.onedoor.ccsn’t heavy and was not too hard to slide it in through the door. After some hesitation and head-shaking, the receiver went to work, scissors scoring through the parcel ...
The Doll.
Contains a dead body, suggestions of murder and drug addiction.There was a plague of crickets the summer we found her body. They were everywhere. At the bus stop, hopping on the road, even sitting on the pump at the gas station. I remember the dead ones crunched under our sandals as we walked down to the creek.“My butt hurts.”“Then stop scratchin’ it.”“Candy, this grass won’t quit whippin’ me, it’s hurtin’ my legs.”“You didn’t have to come, Greg.”“Mom made me. Where are we goin’?“I’m goin’ to get tadpoles down at the creek.”“Why?”“For Billy.”“Do lizards eat tadpoles?”“If they can get ‘em.”“Why...