The Choice_Is This A Dream?_The Brook_Born Again
Catalog Guide:
The Choice
Death. I can’t decide whether it feels more like falling into a deep sleep or waking up from a nightmare, but one thing I am certain of is its similarity to life in the most unexpected of ways. I have now come to believe death is an inpidualized experience. This is the story of mine. The end began much lwww.onedoor.ccike the beginning. Gasping for air. An instinctual cry for unknown reasons. Eyes opening to blurred vision. The desire to figure out your surroundings, but the fear of the unknown. No concept of time. Everything going black once more. Silence. Then the cycle repeats. I don’t know how long I wen...
Is This A Dream?
You see, I woke up and the snow was blue. The snow was a bright baby blue. Why was the snow blue? No Idea.I mean, there was no way that something I’ve known my whole life could just change one day. Or could it... Oh gosh, now I’m just sounding delusional I really need some sleep. This is probably just a bad dream. --- I look over my diary entry in confusion. I wrote it last night. Jesus I must have been tired. I don't even remember writing that! Snow is not blue. I mean, unless you put blue dye in it or something? But who the heck would do that. Only a crazy person. I brush away my curtains...
The Brook
War has always been an 'everyday' possibility, as has Peace but sometimes an everyday thing can be one of the worst.The conflict has been the norm for generations- seldom remain of the time before when the height of excitement wasn’t getting a non-fatal wound rather than one that killed. Not all are sure that’s a good thing anymore. Those who were born before this all started are now withered by age, hardened by circumstance and broken from trauma. Feeling safe, a proper childhood and dreaming in bed are all moments of the past and stories for children to enjoy. There is still a glimmer of hop...
Born Again
The first thing I see when I open my eyes is the dusky rose-pink patina of my dog's nose.This is what I wake up to almost every single day, and today is no different: first he gently paws my arms, his calloused footpads rough on my skin. When that fails to get me up, he heaves his seventy-five plus pounds up on my bed and lays down by my side. His front paws are on my pillow, his snout is in my face. He gently chuffs warm dog breath on my cheeks, licks his lips and swallows noisily. Then he oh-so-tentatively licks my lips. It is at this time that I sputter awake and start to stir. His whole b...