The Slice_Manic Panic_Cleo_Memory Lane Is Best Walked With Hot Chocolate
Catalog Guide:
The Slice
Tonight’s dinner was served with a side sprinkle of tears. Agatha wasn’t normally the crying type, just like Vance wasn’t normally in town, sitting at her dining table as he was tonight. But Vance’s favorite dish called for a full pan of caramelized onions, which left Agatha chopping and crying over her cutting board earlier this evening. But that was all behind them now. Agatha set the serving dish down at the center of the round table. With no cover to protect the unpolished wooden surface from the sauce dripping down the sides of the shepherd’s pie, Agatha scrambled to wipe up the drops wit...
Manic Panic
Content warning: abuse, drug addictionShe stood in front of the mirror, staring at her reflection as her lips trembled and tears rolled down her cheeks. She pinched her nose, frantically brushed her bangs over her eyebrows, and tucked her ears behind her coarse hair. She stared at the many alcohol swabs, the needles, and the box of studs and rings. She picked up the box of permanent hair dye; Manic Panic: Vibrant Green, it read. Nadia was determined to look like somebody else.She could not stand one more person telling her she looked like her mother. She hated her. She hated her for as long as...
Cleo
Manuel loaded his guitar into his Used Sedan after a gig at a bar and grill establishment, carrying his guitar. On his way, he stopped at a convenience store for Gas and a bottled Iced Coffee and saw an Advertisement on the Newspaper in the Newspaper Vending Machine: "Folk Fest is looking for Applications for Participating Artists.""This could be the big chance I've been looking for!" www.onedoor.ccManuel said to himself.Manuel applied, filled out the form, and uploaded a video of his performance at a community event at the local park from the day prior.A couple weeks later, Manuel heard a *Bing* noise comi...
Memory Lane Is Best Walked With Hot Chocolate
“Oh, I remember this one,” Jess whispers, pressing his cheek into Mayven’s hair, still curly from when she was asleep some twenty minutes before. “That,” he reaches around his daughter to point at the picture, “is where your papa and I met.”“Really?” The five year old said in an awed whisper. The picture in question, held safely in plastic in the photo album spread open on the counter, was taken in a small diner known as Vera’s. It features Jess, with a cardigan pulled over a button up shirt. His hair is a bit longer, but just as fluffy now as it was then, and he’s absolutely beaming at the ca...