No surprises_Eccentric Disarray_A Friendly Start to Something New_A Little Too Spicy
Catalog Guide:
No surprises
Barbara looked around the restaurant and marvelled at how busy it was for a Thursday night. Not that she’d know if this was busy or not as it was the first meal out that she had had in months. She took another sip of the water that the waiter had very kindly brought and tried not to look too self-conscious although she felt like all eyes were on her and all the low conversations were discussing her. She did wish Bert would hurry up.As she thought this, a waiter headed towards her table again, obstructing her view of the door into the restaurant.“Would you like to see the menu while you’re wait...
Eccentric Disarray
It was mid-afternoon and Alice Bellamy was making her way downtown on her normal routine. Her dog, Scrappy, skips along beside her. And scrappy he was indeed. He was a mutt with matted fur all over the place but was a sweet dog and thatwww.onedoor.cc was all that mattered. It was windy, making Scrappy’s fur stick out. Alice gulped in the needed extra air. She had a peculiar dream last night. The same dream she frequently had as a child and hadn’t had in quite some time before last night. It was her little imaginative world she'd built when she was younger. She doesn’t recall how she did it, shape and fold...
A Friendly Start to Something New
Lily King answered the rapping on her front door completely uninformed. In the back of her mind somewhere was the thought that her friend, Bee, was dropping by to discuss her rose bushes again. Instead, she opened the door on the strangest chapter of her life.It was just after supper and the knocking was firm, insistent as she made her way from the sudsy sink to the front entryway of her rambling farmhouse. She tried to peek through the golden- and- rose- stained glass that framed the dark double door as she always did, to see if Bee was actually holding the sickened plant they had been nursin...
A Little Too Spicy
TW: Physical abuseMama sat down, and placed the food tray she held on the table, knocking Papa’s glass of cheap wine over in the process. Mama muttered an apology, fetched a napkin from the door handle, and daubed furiously at the tablecloth before the stain settled in. Papa only grunted, bobbing his shiny bald head in displeasure, light from the florescent bulbs reflected on his head. I watched her daub at the wine-soaked tablecloth, wanting very much to help her – my legs were heavy. Too heavy to walk. We seldom ate in the dinning room – unless there was something “brutal” to discuss. The w...