Jenny the Penny_Hung Bomb_Bitten_Obsessively Compulsive
Catalog Guide:
Jenny the Penny
Find a penny pick it up and all day you’ll have good luck.You ‘ave always made fun of me for tha’ one.Jenny the Penny you called me.My whole life I picked up every penny I found. Tha’ glint of light on the ground appeals to the inner magpie in all of us. Do you know ancient cultures thought found coins were important? To find metal was precious it was a gift from the gods. For me, it goes back to being a little kid with my grandma walkin’ across the heath and findin’ my first penny. I held it up to her in the light. All shiny and new like a piece of the sun. Tha’ was when I ‘eard the phrase fo...
Hung Bomb
10 As he checked the bomb once again just before landing, there it was, right beside him, just a little bit behind his head. It had hung tightly to the wing, even though it wasn’t supposed to be there. The initial surprise of seeing it, and the realization that the routine mission had just become much more unpredictable had made him recognize there were some big unknowns in the near future. He had needed to make some important decisions very rapidly, and once committed; he had needed to carry out his plan to perfection. 9 Over the next nine seconds, he thought back over the sequenced events o...
Bitten
Day 1,You never expect the world to and until it actually does. I am writing this I think to leave something behind, so I don't become one of the millions whose voices vanished. When the first reports came out it was warmer out, I remember me sitting in Justin's car talking about our issues, our fears, our plans for the future. How much we took for granted back then, even journals like this one were just a mundane task but now this is a little part of humanity to cling on to. The day the world ended Justin and I were sitting in the car, Kinda like we are doing now. We had the www.onedoor.ccair conditioning...
Obsessively Compulsive
It’ll be my new obsession, she thought as she stared through a wall of tears at her cracked, beet-red hands. She was almost surprised she couldn’t see bone already. Isla Brown had been washing her hands exactly fifty times a day for three hundred and sixty-five days. Tomorrow was the beginning of a new year, which meant that unless she wanted to do this for yet another three hundred and sixty-five days, she had to stop tomorrow. Isla decided such a task couldn’t be done without tricking the voices in her head. Starting tomorrow, I will only wash my hands when I genuinely need to. That way, it...