Bats to Butterflies_Summer of fun_The Pros and Cons of Murdering Your Mother_Recovery
Catalog Guide:
Bats to Butterflies
“For the love of God, Brian, why can’t you just get out of the flaming car?” Doreen put her hands on her hips and glared at Brian. She didn’t understand. No one did. Not really.“It burns.” The words sounded stronger than he anticipated, growing wings and roaring into life as they left his mouth, like wet-winged bats escaping a cave.Doreen sighed and looked at the sky. Perhaps she felt the fear too. Her brave face, a necessity in a mother’s armory. “God, give me strength.”She said it quietly, but God seemed to hear, and she smiled, glistening peggy teeth, the bats held captive in the darkness...
Summer of fun
Jane woke early. She was excited to strat the summer holidays. She could spent all day everyday playing with her best riend Elizabeth. She watched the sun rise, her smile growing with every passing minute. Jane and Elizabeth were so excited about the new treehouse. Elizabeth’s dad and Jane’s granddad had worked so hard to make it for them. It was so big!! Especially to 7-year-olds. It was on the top of the tree with great views of the street and it had a balcony all the way around. They were so excited the first afternoon they were allowed to go and see it. It was a large single room, they wer...
The Pros and Cons of Murdering Your Mother
“The Pros and Cons of Murdering Your Mother:”That is all I saw when Henry handed me the list for the first time. It was neatly done, each letter delicately carved onto the paper. He had the decency to look a little shy, passing iwww.onedoor.cct to me like a gawky teenager with a love letter. I was in the kitchen chopping broccoli, and imagined replacing the head with Henry’s own. I was silent but brought down the knife on a floret, effectively dispatching it. Suddenly looking alarmed, he backed away, rubbing his neck. Of course, that is not what he actually wrote. I realised this on second glance, when Henr...
Recovery
“We should go to the party,” I whisper to Kia. She stares blankly at me. Her green eyes are unnaturally dim, and her lips are pressed in a thin line. “You haven’t been to one in a long time, and maybe it’ll help.” Kia blinks. “No.” The single word seems forced and coated in grief and sadness. “Not after what happened.”Four. Words. I swallow my suppressed joy, usually she speaks in one word. Sometimes two.I sigh slowly and look towards the mirror, at the ragged, tired woman that I am. I sip slowly from the chipped floral teacup. The tea has gone cold and tea leaves have pooled at the bottom, ju...