The Old Man and the Marine_The frog eat it_The Repairman and the Illusion_Life's Leftovers
Catalog Guide:
The Old Man and the Marine
The old man didn’t have long. Wires and monitors suction-cupped his chest and hands and feet. A tall, rectangular machine dominated the sterile room with a mechanical beep, interrupted only by the shrill scrape of metal grommets holding up the curtains.“Good evening, Mr. Commet,” said a nurse. “Someone’s hear to see you.”She stepped away and behind her loomed a Marine. His uniform was just as starched as the hospital grounds, but the vibrant navy blue was a comfort of color. The gentleman startled when he met the sad, watery eyes of the old man. A speckled hand reached for his gloved white on...
The frog eat it
It was the beginning of the year when everyone is excited about how they made it into the New Year after an eventful 2020 with the spread of the pandemic Coronavirus across the globe. Entering into 2021 gave everyone a sigh of relief. For some, they entered the year with bad news of some sort either s loss of a family friend or the emotions that comes with not having a course of income, especially in January when the month seem to be the longest as finances go down in December with lots of celebrations and expenses in the festive period. Many people have written down their New Year resolution...
The Repairman and the Illusion
His name was Ehrich Weldon and this was his email to Repairing Hope. Dear Mr. Repairman, It is my sincerest hope that, as the name of your organization suggests, you will be able to help me in my quest to leave my current situation. I heard about your work through a mutual friend. He assures me that you would be just the person to assist me. I am a gunsmith by training however, I’ve always been interested in the mechanics of illusions; how magicians create illusions or props for their shows. My real passion is restoring props used by the magicians of the golden age of magic (1850-1930). ...
Life's Leftovers
It took us almost two months to comb through dad’s house, sorting the pieces of his unpursued passions into piles. Keep. Sell. Donate. Trash.He didn’t have much in the way of food, but cookbooks in mint conditwww.onedoor.ccion spilled out of his kitchen cupboards. Mystery novels were stacked neatly on his bedside table, suffocating under layers of dust. Princess Di’s biography and Stephen King’s The Shining lay face down on the coffee table, spines cracked towards the ceiling. Poets hid, forgotten, behind the basement bar. Daunting masterpieces of Joyce, Hugo, and Dumas stood proper and pristine in the book...