The Unexpected Knock_Photos and Fishhooks_The Music of Angels_Shooting Marbles
Catalog Guide:
The Unexpected Knock
The knock was unexpected. After all it was only Tuesday and movies nights weren’t till Thursday so no one should be knocking on the window. Maybe I had imagined it. It was probably just my mind’s desperate attempt at escaping the tedium of learning when famous weapons were forged. Some days I really hated homework. I rubbed one of my delicate horns, trying to encourage myself to focus. Another knock. Not my imagination then. I glanced at the purple drapes that hid the secret window. A third knock- this one sounded a bit desperate. I tossed my pencil down and got up to pull the velvety drapes ...
Photos and Fishhooks
Wind brushed against chimewww.onedoor.ccs in the garden outside to send the polished rods jangling and clattering against each other before settling. Each bell-like tone seemed to start a song anew, and yet faded as quickly as it started, turning to another melody likewise cut short. Some found it raucous. Others, endearing. To the man sitting inside, nodding off in the plush pan couch that always seemed to smell faintly of moth balls and cleaning chemicals, they were the only shield he had against dozing off.Laying in his hands with the pages splayed, a photo album slipped a few bare inches before he blin...
The Music of Angels
Trigger Warning: Contains violent content and domestic abuse. Child abuse is alluded to, as well.He felt the sting in his hand as he watched his knuckles gush red. What hurt the most was the realization that he had screwed up—again. It had been four months since he had punched anything. Darren Holmes, in all his sixteen years, had never tried as hard to accomplish anything as he has to control his temper. He was doing well for a while there. Then, after 5th-period Algebra class, he caught Courtney, his girlfriend of three-and-a-half months, tongue dancing with Chad Dillinger in the hall. A nea...
Shooting Marbles
“Grow up.” “But I hate onions.”“Just eat them, stop being a baby.” When his mom stops looking, Eli reaches his fingers between the bun and the patty of his cheeseburger. Delicately, he removes the onions from the bed of ketchup and lettuce. He flings them onto his napkin like little tapeworms. He’d recently seen a video about parasites on Youtube and, like many preteen boys, he had an affinity for gross things.It’s a desolate, Midwestern Sunday in January. The sterile, blue sky peeks between bare branches. Dust and gravel kick up like dead wishes and complacency when trucks cruise into the pa...