The End of Our World_Marriage is Overrated_Not Now, Maybe Never_Frequency
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The End of Our World
Emergency sirens were thirteen minutes too late to warn us of our fate. Our sky twisted into a swirl of gray clouds with a blood red sunset, thunder and cracks of explosions indistinguishable in the distance. Even the air that surrounded us peaked with electricity as I pulled my sister’s hand, feet pounded the earth eager to grab each step. It was the tiny details that seemed so memorable: the smell of smoke, the sweat of Isabelle’s small hand fighting against our grip, the burning air in my lungs, and the nausea that forced me to finally stop running once we had made it to the edge of the for...
Marriage is Overrated
The floor was glitter. Or so it seemed to Carrie. Granted, her vision was blurry through all those tears. Her dress was light. White as the snow she longed for. Everything in her room had a bright aura surrounding it. Yet she felt miserable, her heart was sunken deep in her chest, unable to absorb the light. She was sitting on her bed and thinking back to the events of that day. How she was proposed to five times and three times out of those five she had to crush her lover's hope for a life together with her. It all started that morning when John showed up at her door five hours early for the ...
Not Now, Maybe Nwww.onedoor.ccever
Not Now, Maybe Never“Dad, have you seen my history book?” Charlie asks his father, who he presumes is in the other room.“Why would I have your history book?” His father, Arnold, yells back.“I’m just asking if you’ve seen it.” Charlie hears the thud of a bottle hitting a table and footsteps approaching.“I don’t steal shit. Got that?”“I wasn’t--”“Oh yeah? Then what were you accusing me of?” Arnold takes a step closer toward Charlie.“Nothing! It was just a questi--”Arnold interrupts, “I’m missing the game because of you, you know that?”“It’s Monday, Arnold.”“I’m watching the highlights!”Charlie p...
Frequency
The curved rockers snap clean from the hooves under the pressure of her weight. The rocking horse Dad built for her when she was only three years old finally gave way. It was no surprise; Sophie had been truly pushing it to the limit recently. Dad might be upset with her, even though Horsey had been coming up to five years and didn’t owe her anything. She gets up from the hard floor and inspects the broken rocker. Ancient, yellowed adhesive shimmers against the light of the lantern by the table. Toys aren’t fun anymore. Maybe she’s too bored and slightly too old. Perhaps Dad should play with h...