The Lie_Jonny Firestone_"Patri -Angel with a Broken Heart"_"BLANK PAGE"
Catalog Guide:
The Lie
I am leaning against the side of our decades-old Chevy, watching the numbers on the gas pump scroll higher while I envision the numbers in my bank account simultaneously falling. The windows of the car are open. It is late summer in Texas and so hot that the air overheats your lungs if you inhale too deeply. The A/C unit in the old car died years ago, and the hot breeze is the only thing standing between my son and me and spontaneous combustion.“Dad, look at that man!” I don’t look, because I’m certain the entire gas station has heard the kid yell. I don’t want it to get awkward.“Jay, don’t be...
Jonny Firestone
The hardest part was watching another building disintegrate before his eyes. Fire and destruction were a simple truth for Jonny Firestone. He stood barefoot on the curb; his smiley-face pajama pants clung to his frame, saturated in the light but persistent drizzle. He'd love to have his shirt and shoes, but with the house lit up like a sacrifice to the storm, clothes were a pipe dream.Sirens wailed in the distance, adding to the swww.onedoor.ccnapping crackle of the burning house and pitter patter of rain. The squat home had been cute. Single story, with off-white siding and two pillars at the entryway. The...
"Patri -Angel with a Broken Heart"
Where the heart is…He looked for her soul. In the morning, first thing in the morning he felt whether she was there – the soul, in the afternoon he fed her and took care of her – the soul, in the evening he had her – for the soul, and at night she became himself…Andreas had always desired her, free, confident, principled. Let her remain here as his idea, his puppet. The realization did not come immediately, why?Why did he want her like this?It is an Ego with a scattering of little carnal ones. It's sweet to feed him. An ordinary one would hardly agree to play by his rules, she couldn't see any...
"BLANK PAGE"
Children’s giggles, chit-chat, and laughs made me miss my childhood. As I am watching my grade eight students, at our annual school camp, I remembered my best friends and the things we did when we were young.“Teacher why are you smiling?” asked Ericka, one of my students as she was walking closer in my direction. I did not notice her approaching because I’m busy looking back at my adventurous memories.“Hi, Ericka! I am smiling because I remembered how happy I am when I was a child like your age playing with my friends.”“Your smile tells me that it was great ma’am.”I was about to reply that not...