Billy's Crutch_The Halfway Street_Crying on a stoop in stuyvesant._Beaver Fur Bowler
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Billy's Crutch
Warren Styles is an excellent neighbour, many times he’d bail me out of my latest self- inflicted mess. I have many issues that are far too complicated to discuss now. Suffice to say, Warren is discreet and loyal, I couldn't hope for a better neighbour, he was also my friend. I relied on him a little too much, in fact, he was my crutch. As frightened and confused as I was, it was now my turn. The night www.onedoor.ccseemed to have drawn in quicker than usual. It was full dark, no visible clouds, no moon or stars; the sky looked dead. The moon had to be there somewhere, it wasn’t possible for it not to b...
The Halfway Street
Dianne was an impressive woman. Strong, independent, and loving towards her two daughters. In her world she was a successful person. Working a nine to five. Cooking dinner every night. Reading bedtime stories. Hosting dinner parties for the neighbors every week. The only problem was with her and her husband, Mack. Repeated arguments had torn the couple apart. That years halloween couldn’t have been any worse. Mack was spending more time at the bar while Dianne had completely immersed herself in a social life. All to avoid the consequences of being around Mack. Every Halloween Dianne cook pum...
Crying on a stoop in stuyvesant.
Sometimes, the only vindication for this train is that it rides through the sunset so damn well.Hi, my name is Clarita. I grew up in New York City. I found my way into the world via my mother, in a Brooklyn basement. She was a postal worker for 30 years. She's seen the most of the least, and the least of the most. Me? I've been crying on a stoop in Stuyvesant for every night of sacrifice, for those lives who aren't even mine.that's the thing about New York. our tears are never our own.They roll out of us, often in silence, into the vortex of skyscrapers and brick bones, lifting into the atmosp...
Beaver Fur Bowler
Tom Clanton’s daddy died in front of him when he was only thirteen years old. He was gunned down outside the Silver Dollar saloon in broad daylight for trying to prevent his wife from running away with an outlaw that had been feeding her opium for the last several months. The first bullet that hit his daddy sent him to the ground with such force that the dust nearly blocked Tom from seeing the second bullet tear through his daddy’s chest and kill him. The outlaw, Ben Philpot, left with the boy’s mother, and they were later killed by Blood Indians on their way to Canada. After a while, the crow...