the transition_The Darkling Childe_On the Banks of Loch Lomond_The Hitmom
Catalog Guide:
the transition
I found out in the most interesting way that I died. My plan was to stay in all weekend. The first time for a while. I was simply going to watch the college football triple-header, but then I realize I have nothing to drink, no pizza, no chips nothing for breakfast or lunch next week. No point starving in the process. It’s an early October weekend, but not too cold. I throw on some shorts and head out. And who do I run into? Literally, run into. Lake Montgomery. I hadn’t seen her in years. I was looking into the freezer section at the grocery store contemplating whether I should buy waffles or...
The Darkling Childe
We are called the children of the Dark for today is a dark day, darker than most. I look down at Grandpa Grav’s sleeping peaceful face. At any moment I expect him to rise from his coffin and ask for his wheelchair. Grandpa Gravesone or Grav as I called him, had been Wheelchair bound since the second great war when a piece of shrapnel snapped his spine. Grandpa died peacefully in the middle of the night. My twin brother Griff grabs my hand for support and comfort. I can see the sadness of my heart reflected in my brother’s eyes. Grandpa was always there for us, Showering us with love and affect...
On the Banks of Loch Lomond
The sun crept slowly above the horizon, bringing light to another day. Kyla tried in vain to remember the last time she had seen the sun, and she wondered when it would make its next appearance. Rain was in the forecast for the foreseeable future. A vast expanse of rain and fog, wind and chill. Enjoy this moment, she reminded herself, straightening her back and drawing a contented breath. After all, this moment is the only reality, and, in one way or another, their lives would alter by the time the night fell once more on their little Scottish village. “We couldnae have picked a better day,”...
The Hitmom
“If the umbilical cord stump is experiencing active bleeding,” droned the screen reader to the clean, unadorned bedroom office, “or is showing signs of infection such as swelling or pus, be sure to contact your medical provider immediately…”The assassin’s head dipped once, twice, then shot up, her hollow, off-focus grey eyes wide and bloodshot.“Hey, Siri,” she croaked. The computer replied with a jolly little ding. “Pause screen reader.”“Pausing screen reader.”“What time is it?”“It’s 2:00 AM.”She put her face in her hands. “Kill me now.”“Calling National Suicide Preventiowww.onedoor.ccn Lifeline.”“No, wait ...