Namesake_Sing you a lullaby where you die in the end_The Ghost of Edward Abbey_Snow Day
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Namesake
It is not easy to live inside your head. Maybe I’m the only one who feels that way. How else can others so easily decide what to wear, where to go, what to say and to whom, how to act, or how to feel? Every decision must be analyzed, or so my mind thinks. Every day, every possible consequence for every possible decision must be weighed. If I make the wrong choice, something dreadful will happen. So I mustn’t make that choice. Though the second choice might result in something equally dreadful. Even the third…This is how the days go, how the clock jumps from morning to noon to evening to midnig...
Sing you a lullaby where you die in the end
So this is it. I'm doing it. I'm walking up there and killing the guy I know nothing about and I won't feel guilty about it I mean, there must be a reason auwww.onedoor.ccnt Lacy wants him dead. Right? People don't just decide they want someone dead. Right?But hell, I'm the last person to talk about ethics and morals. Just yesterday I stole a couple of candy bars at Walmart. In my defense I was hungry as fuck and the owners of Walmart probably do not need the money as much as I do. Ask my landlord and my embarrassing bank account. So technically I am justified. I mean, before my mother died she used to make...
The Ghost of Edward Abbey
You walk the mile-long walk to your mailbox, six inches of new snow soaking through last year’s boots, purchased in the fluorescent glow of a consumerist shrine to the great outdoors. On that rare trip to town, you’d watched latte-sipping millennials drive their SUVs around the loading dock for $10,000 worth of shiny plastic camping gear. You chuckle, wincing at the memory. Abbey would laugh too, or at least shoot another few holes in his wheezing Frigidaire.“Uncle,” Julia had gasped over the landline. “Whaddya think of all this? Are they gonna be done counting votes tonight or next week or ne...
Snow Day
Teague found himself in front of his employer’s door. The door was closed, which was a little unusual. Mr. Penrose prided himself on his approachability and his door was almost always “famously” open. The door in question opened onto a suite of rooms with the first and largest being the office where Penrose held court if you will, and otherwise conducted daily business for the Enterprise that he had spent years building. The door was in one of the finer hotels on the West Side of the city. It was different than all of the other doors in the hotel. It was ornate; and made from some wood that Te...