Chasing Away the Darkess_The Source_Cielo Azul (Blue Sky)_The Victim.
Catalog Guide:
Chasing Away the Darkess
I've never been good at waiting. Maybe that's why my parents named my little sister Patience- because I have none.Cramped into a three-by-five-meter loft with eight other people is one of the worst places for a fidgety, easily put-out thirteen-year-old, but if I think about it it's better than starving in a work camp or being shipped hundreds of miles cross-country, only to be thrown into a gas chamber upon arrival. "The Kolsekis are risking their lives to help us," Mama reminds me on a near-daily basis. "We need to be grateful for what we have." So I stuff down my complaints and console mysel...
The Source
Content warning: animal abuseSitting in the car, the engine humming quietly in front of us, vibrating around and beneath us, heightened by the fact the music’s turned off and nobody’s speaking. Reality is starting to set in. Within the cocoon of the car, ‘no’ still feels like a possibility, but once those doors are opened…“Well,” says Gary. “Are we going to do this thing or what?”You know; what the hell.How it came about was this: Atlas pizza opened in town about two months ago now and from the first time myself and everyone I knew triedwww.onedoor.cc it, we were obsessed. These pizzas were out of this worl...
Cielo Azul (Blue Sky)
Cielo Azul A short story by Mackenzie Littledale 7/15/2021 word count 1628“What do you mean, the blue sky is an illusion?” my mother asked, shock writ large on her face, hand poised on the door handle of the passenger side of my car. Her sheer terror scared me for a second. I thought she might get out of my car, so I had to ameliorate the situation.I was happy to explain, sure she’d grasp my meaning and praise my intellect. “I mean, when you look at earth from space, there is no blue sky. You can see straight through the air to earth’s surface. It’s God’s cleverest illusion.” I tilted my head...
The Victim.
TW: violence, abuse I sipped on the wine uncomfortably. The silence in the kitchen was suffocating, only the sound of cutlery scraping against ceramic plates could be heard, sometimes an occasional sigh or cough but other than that, it was quiet. Unbearable, almost.I picked at the food I worked so hard on but now there it sat, cold and unappealing on my plate as the man across from me scarfed his portion down. He took a sip of his own wine, glancing at me from time to time to see if I too was eating along with him. Upon seeing that I had barely even taken a bite, he sighed in exasperation an...