Daze of the Weak (Miner Crisis)_Princess in the Woods_Bad Skin Day_Unhinged and Unzipped
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Daze of the Weak (Miner Crisis)
Daze of the Weak (Miner Crisis)"Well, fellas, let's get going! The sooner we finish this job, the sooner we can head back home. Great breakfast, as usual, Hap!”Ralph Hale pushed away from the table, the legs of his chair scraping with a painful “Eeeee!” against the worn linoleum.Ralph, head of the geological survey project at Grimm's Gulch, was hardworking and capable. Somewhat of a fatherly type, he cared about his team and was always trying to do something for them. Everyone liked him.Everyone except for Farley Moon, who didn't like much of anything. He was pessimistic, sarcastic, and genera...
Princess in the Woods
Once upon a time, deep within the woods, there lived two princesses. One of them, Marie Heatherton, was a pretty eighteen-year-old girl, with long strawberry blonde hair that reached just past her lower back, and big brown eyes. She wanted to experience a bit of independence before settling down with a prince from a nearby town, so her father decided to build her a mini castle about two or three miles away, deep within the safest part of the woods that surrounded their town. She promised www.onedoor.ccto live there for no more than two months before returning back to her family’s castle.She had everything ...
Bad Skin Day
Bad Skin Day The big screen looms above me, and it looks like the surface of a planet that’s wandered too close to the sun. A nightmare landscape of active volcanoes, deep fissures and craters. They’re masters of humiliation, the skin specialists. Without so much as a by your leave they’ll scan your face with their fancy camera and enlarge it a zillion times in vivid fucking colour. I’m already cringing with embarrassment, when suddenly there’s a flash of starched white, and, I can’t believe it, gorgeous Tania Manson comes into the room. Tania from my schooldays, who still sometimes visits ...
Unhinged and Unzipped
My hands are on autopilot, cutting up one of those horseshoe shaped pepperoni tubes into small cubes for my famous, internationally-inspired, potluck dish, something I call Italian croissants. It’s one of those Women’s Day Magazine easy recipes I absconded and pretended to invent years ago.It’s afternoon, and the day is warm, so a glass of icy cold Sauvignon Blanc accompanies my chopping and assembling. Day drinking.I find myself mindlessly humming as I lay out the croissant dough—recently released from the cracked round cylinder that held it—and placing a large pinch of cheese, several pieces...