Our Final Chance_The Monitor_Oh Happy Day_Circling
Catalog Guide:
Our Final Chance
I come to a stop in front of a large wide building. This was it, this is what we had been working toward for months. I get out of my car and almost trip over myself with excitement and nervousness. I head up the path to the building were I will see if our hard work would pay off. I open the door to the building and head to the front desk. A women looks up from her computer. "How can I help you sir?" "I am here for the baking championship." The woman nods and looks at her computer. "What is your name?" "Leandor Running's." I say nervously. The woman, still looking at her computer nods. "And...
The Monitor
The monitor beeped steadily, displaying Mom’s vitals on the screen. I closed my eyes and took slow, shaky breaths as I waited for the nurse to arrive in the room. When we had first arrived at the hospital, Mom had been screaming. Her side was torn up, and bits of shrapnel covered her body. As soon as we had entered the emergency room, the medics had dosed Mom with anesthesia- they claimed her screams were scarring the other wards. Even though we have been in the emwww.onedoor.ccergency room for at least an hour, a doctor still hasn’t come to see Mom- they only have nurses on staff at the moment. I mean, i...
Oh Happy Day
This was supposed to be the happiest day of their lives, everything was ready for the ceremony. The hall was lined with flowers of different types, lending the air a fresh, sweet, and pleasant smell.Jerome drew his tie tighter, loosened it, and repeated the same thing. He smiled at his reflection he was ready.His best man Peter, slapped his back, “relax man, you look okay.”He straightened his suit, he had decided to wear a Black suit, when his fiancée insisted she didn’t want him wearing a White one. White was a mourning color where she came from, but the later was his. He remembered his moth...
Circling
1 I look at my face in the mirror and trace a finger along the dark bags under my eyes. My fingers reach towards the pot of lotion, but I pause, hand wavering slightly in the air, barely brushing against the lid. I sigh, the air cold in my lungs, and pull my hand back to my face to run my hands through my hair. Dry. Brittle. The dark roots have grown out, pushing away the now dull blonde. It brushes my shoulders now, far longer than it’s been in years. I twist the ends between my fingers, letting what breaks off fall onto the messy surface of the vanity. I stare at my face for a li...