The Stars from the Stairs_Not by Design_Divine Amnesia_Recipe for disruption.
Catalog Guide:
The Stars from the Stairs
Sarah stood on the stairs, trash bag in hand, staring at the stars again. Another day ground down to the nub. A www.onedoor.ccblack bag filled to the brim. An evening blossoming into full dark. Another day turned to could-haves and maybe-should-haves. But here she stops. It’s different tonight. The orange glow on the horizon is no metaphor. Bags are packed, the car gassed-up and ready in the driveway, nose out to a street buzzing with the noise of neighbors’ generators. Each one a helicopter idling in the yard. She doesn’t have one. An avoided expense. An avoided complication. Just an avoidance maybe. Her...
Not by Design
The path is narrow. It winds into the relative darkness, lit only by the faint light of a wilting moon. It is bordered by alien flora, waist high, spindly yet tough. The air is still. It is warm. Silence. I hear my heart beat. My breath is ragged. I focus on controlling my breathing. I look over my shoulder. Have I been followed? Of course not, it's just the paranoia. Is this what I have been searching for? Will I find it? After all these years will my journey end? I am scared and I am cautious. I am drawn forth, tempted by an uneasy reluctance. One hesitant step entices another as I feel the ...
Divine Amnesia
Disclaimer: The names, characters, and events portrayed in this story are fictitious. Resemblance to actual people (alive or dead) or locations is unintentional.***Ari’s phone rang a sixth time. He had recognized the area code: it was from Heaven. Who could it be but big brother Yudi thought Ari and instead of picking it up, he just stood staring at its screen, frozen to the spot, still undecided whether to pick or let it go.As the ringing died down, he heard the buzz of his answering machine and the loud booming voice, “Hey, this is big bro Yudi.” And there was a pause.“Aha,” just as Ari had ...
Recipe for disruption.
It looked like a normal family gathering from the outside, the room was bustling with adults and children, the table was stuffed full of drinks, food, cutlery, crayons. There was a smell of spices, fried onion and roasted meat dancing in the air, the smell of home. The bottom floor of the house emitted a cosy glow out into the darkness as the family chattered and bickered as they passed the food amongst themselves. Near one end of the table sat a small old man beaming at the others with his sparkling brown eyes watching everything, ensuring everyone got a taste of each dish. “Dad” a younger ma...