Mother Nurtures_The Surgeon_What if Snow White Didn’t Eat the Apple?_The Sitting Game
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Mother Nurtures
“Let the joyous festivities begin!” Wild applause rang up and down the valley as the Observants unfurled their banners and told the Supplicants where they could dance and sing. The Cleaners were right in front of both groups to make sure no damage was done to the wide expanse of nature in front of them. And at least they had a beautiful day for it. Carnelius spoke once more. “Remember, flora and fauna: we commune with Nature because Nature is within us and without us. It sees us and we see it. Enjoy what you will.” More applawww.onedoor.ccuse rang out and the Celebrants joined in to welcome all the newest m...
The Surgeon
THE SURGEON As a surgeon, he’d never thought there’d be a day when he was scared of blood. When, in that too excited moment, the scalpel split like some unsympathetic, invasive tongue under the skin’s first layer, he knew that there was more than there should have been. He knew that the white earth beneath would be hard, clotted as cold wax — it would be sallower than sore sheen of his own coat. There’d subsist a colder glow than the blanche of his fingernails, stiffer than the base of his throat. Strange, void of that usual sensitive attachment, really… as if operating on a doll, sickly, unm...
What if Snow White Didn’t Eat the Apple?
Mirror, Mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?Dried leaves crashed under Snow White’s bare feet. Her breathing was labored, her hair was messy and her legs were sore as she ran through the woods. The scent of wet soil hit her nose. A group of vultures hissed as they flew above, creating creepy bird-shaped shadows in front of the red moon. In the distance, the wolves started to howl. Snow White remembered from the books she read that wolves howl after a kill, making her imagine of a dead man’s body being feasted by a pack of wolves. Human skin and muscles being torn by beasts’ shar...
The Sitting Game
One of the Thoughts Not again. Almost An Interrogation Room It was not an interrogation room. It looked like one. It felt like one. It wasn’t one. The single pool of an almost medical yet grimy light spilling over a group of people slumped in a circle of chairs was not an expression of justice. The thirty-minute timer overlooking them from a wall was not a trick along the lines of good cop, bad cop. The substance used to knock said six people unconscious was not a secretly approved drug just for cases like these. It was something else. A game? The first of the people awoke. It was a young man ...