The grass was always greener on this side - Doomsday Diary_Someone to Talk To_Clocking You To Death_
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The grass was always greener on this side - Doomsday Diary
The warm breeze brushes the tall California Grass and a flock of seagulls gracefully fly by, guided by the sudden change of weather. The last solar eclipse made the seagulls hesitate about starting their migration sowww.onedoor.ccuth at the beginning of fall. They pretty much predicted the absence of food by calling the others in their flock with their screeching chilling calling while challenging the others for territory. Their heads lowering crouched up and down, like yelling at someone-their ‘mewing’ was not as often as before. Maybe the neighbours cat is around, they’re telling the others a threat is ar...
Someone to Talk To
My mother used to say, “There’s always someone who has it worse than you,” and I used to believe it. It was so long ago, but I could still see how the sun made a halo of her blonde hair around her long, pointed ears, and her large, brown eyes seemed soft like velvet.The young woman across the table held my hand. “I know it doesn’t seem like much, but maybe tonight you’ll talk about it.” She was a human, maybe thirty, tops. Close-cropped dark hair, medium-brown skin and deep amber eyes. There was a mole on her left cheek that always caught my attention for some reason. Her youth reminded me th...
Clocking You To Death
Clocking You To DeathThe night just started, and this guy was already being obnoxious. It was only a quarter to eleven and he was stinking drunk. The guys he was with were trying to buy me off with 1000 “clocks” and a can of Enfamil. That wasn’t even going to cover gas to get home. These guys must think I’m some kind of joke. “C’mon guys, seriously, beat it. I can’t let your friend in. The rest’ a you guys can come in, but your friend has to go home, I’m sorry. Besides, 1000 “clocks”? Uh uh---------and Enfamil? I already have a ton at home, and I can find ‘em in my sleep. Similac is the real d...
The Prince and the Crimelord
He really did hate the slums. The foul street urchins wandering the streets, clutching onto his clothing, begging for his money. Street brawls breaking out on every corner, creating pools of blood everywhere he stepped. Though most of all, Alexian hated the smell, the stench of dead things, and uncleansed bodies reeked around him.Yet there he was, trekking through Osagia’s slums. The putrid smell infiltrating his nostrils, making him gag. He didn’t want to be there and there was really no good reason for him to be there other than the fact that his mother wanted to punish him. For what, he di...