Two Hidden Killers and a Messy Bun Thug_Mountain Terror_Moo, baa, cluck, quack_FOR THE LOVE OF GOD,
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Two Hidden Killers and a Messy Bun Thug
I was gasping for air. Trying to breath in, but no air would enter my lungs. I was suffering so badly that I had to lie down and sip water for twenty five minutes straight, but I think it’s fair for what I had seen. I am getting chills as I write this in my journal.You see, Iwww.onedoor.cc’m a totally ordinary person. I live a very normal life and I had no trouble with anyone. In fact, I’m a peacemaker with ideally anyone whom I meet. Life was chill for me and I was chill with life... but it was the exact opposite for my next door neighbour. She never had good relations with anyone, even her family relative...
Mountain Terror
Somewhere in a peaceful mountain near Denver, Colorado ........Wilbur finished his accounting for the night, the Inn was quiet this time of the year as the guests normally didn't show due to bad weather. He had marked down in red the things that needed immediate attention, such as the repairs on the roof, depilating pipes, as well as other items that needed tending to but not as urgent as the roof and pipes were. He sighed, pondered heavily on the fact that money was tight these days. Unsurmountable taxes continued, and insurance costs. Wilbur had a lot of worries but he would never sell and...
Moo, baa, cluck, quack
Mooooo, Baaa, Bock bock bock, quack, quack; farmyard sounds? Yes, and no. Are they the sounds of a children’s party game? They should be, but in this instance they are the sounds of adults walking around the reception room of a swanky hotel, engaged in a team building exercise. In this case, they are the noises emanating from your children’s teachers .Yes, that sixty five dollars you forked out for a babysitter, was so that those in charge of your child's education could make asses of themselves, in the name of professional development.I have actually participated in this team building activ...
FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, JUST DO IT
WARNING: domestic abuse theme, and a few cuss words.If he says he won’t do it again, don’t believe him.I scroll the letters across the top of the page, biting my fingernail down until the sensitive skin is burning for me to stop. I look down at it and let out an ‘oops’ in surprise. I wipe the small bead of blood on my blue jeans.My attention moves back to the page, and I realize I haven’t addressed the letter to my future self yet. If I’m going to do it, I may as well do it right, eh?To My Future Self, I tap my pencil against the notebook with anticipation. What do I even say to myself? This s...