Captivating Masquerade_Sam Kinison’s Ghost_The Forest is Alive_The Memorial
Catalog Guide:
Captivating Masquerade
Watching my friend Lillian Hyde make flourless chocolate torte for a party this evening was a delight. The bakery was silent except for the sound of breaking eggs. Her hands moved fluidly, quietly, gently. As I watched her, my mind drifted to thoughts of recent events. My life became entangled in a bizarre and yet totally fascinating situation. Because I was Lillian Hyde's friend and reporter for the Linoak County Gazette, I will not see tonight's events as just another chapter in her long and complex story. Because of Lillian's indomitable spirit, despite a difficult heart problem, the story...
Sam Kinison’s Ghost
Seated in a movie theater, I waited for the lights to come back on while the ending credit roll for “The Batman” film crawled up the screen. Sam Kinison, who had just returned from the refreshment stand with a jumbo bucket of hot-buttered popcorn and an extra-large coke, retook his seat beside me.“Did I miss anything?” he asked.“Sam, it’s the credit roll. What’s to miss?”“Well,” Sam said softly before screaming at the top of his lungs, “SOMEONE’S GOT A BIG FUCKING BUG UP HIS BIG FUCKING ASS THIS FUCKING DAY!”“Sorry, Sam, it’s not your fault.”“So, are we going to watch this long-ass film again,...
The Forest is Alive
“Listen Davey, Ya hear that?” Davey looked at his Pa, and stood silently tuning his ears to their surroundings, they were three days away from home, with nothing but the forest on all sides, Pa was standing stock still, the only indication that he was a living being, the breath of fog escaping his lips, on the brisk morning aiwww.onedoor.ccr.“I don’t hear anything Pa, ‘cept the leaves crunchin’ under our feet” Davey looked up at his Pa expectantly “what d’you hear?”Davey’s Pa smiled and bent down beside his five year old son “Everything, the forest is alive, sit perfectly still, pay no mind to me, close you...
The Memorial
TW: mild horror, goreI don’t think I’ll ever get used to the cold. Five years working here and I still can’t stop the shivering that dances up my arms. I suppose it’s just my size or maybe I need more iron... more layers, more something. The preparation room is small and as cold as a tundra. My station is exactly as I left it, and standing by my next project is my supervisor John. He was reading a file and snapped his head up when I entered the room. He places the file on the counter and ducks out with a tight smile. I don’t take it personally - he never likes to stick around for this. He once...