Friendship is Time_Am I...? (Part 3)_Change in a Box_SIX LETTERS TO ILLUMINATION
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Friendship is Time
“For your exit ticket on artifacts, you will have the make a time capsule,” explained Mrs.Conners, our history teacher. “You have to put all of the things that describe you into any type of bottle. You can even decorate the bottle!” Brinngggg! We headed out of class. Gabi imminently walked over to me. “Cherry, do you want to help with each other’s time capsule project?” “OK. Sure,” I said. “Are you ok?” Gabi asked, “You don’t seem like yourself.” “I’m fine, I just don’t want to do this kindergarten stuff,” I said. “Cherry, this isn’t kindergarten stuff!” Gabi exclaimed It is going to be fun! M...
Am I...? (Part 3)
Hell is truly a good place. Take it from a person who has been there for twelve decades.Hewww.onedoor.ccy again- this is Iris. Iris Jones- the werewolf. I am rather tamed now, actually. The devil who took me away was rather kind. What was his name again…? Ah, yes- James. We had to first go and meet his friend, the angel. Benjamin.“Hey, Ben!” James called out as soon as we reached his doorstep on earth. A clearly sleepy and irritated person answered the door. “What is it this time, James? I swear, if it is another of your pranks, I’m gonna turn you into a toad or- OH.”He had finally noticed me.“So you brough...
Change in a Box
It was not a pleasant summer morning when Molly first called. The sun was blocked by stale clouds. The sky itself was a pale shade of gray. Gusts of uneven wind were weaving in and out of leaves. To make the morning a little more ill, Molly, the same Molly who she hadn’t talked to since high school had called her out of context.Elizabeth had nothing against Molly, but engaging herself with anyone of her former high school friends made her feel uneased. Naturally, Elizabeth let her phone ring, before deciding to send Molly to voicemail.Elizabeth? I think this is your number, unless it’s change...
SIX LETTERS TO ILLUMINATION
SIX LETTERS OF ILLUMINATIONI didn’t really think much about happiness until I had the opportunity, in a Scrabble game, of adding ‘piness’ to the existent ‘hap’. Indeed, the act of putting ‘piness’ on the board would have brought happiness to almost anyone, and it certainly made my opponent’s day, my opponent being my fifteen-year-old nephew. “Piness! Ha ha ha!” The very fact of my playing Scrabble at all is an indicator of the indescribable ennui in which I normally wallow; though most people play—at least claim to play—Scrabble for enjoyment, for happiness, I do not. I play it in order to pre...