Here's a Confession_She Will Be Fine_The Last Shift_That Which Comes For Them.
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Here's a Confession
My name is Viola Fletcher. I left my man at the altar, resigned from my job, sold my house, then drove across the country to Maine for a different life. Here’s my confession, I guess.…………………………………………………………………………………………The drive from Portland to Maine takes all of two days, though I lingered along the road to meet strangers, eat new food, and laughed. I haven’t done that in so long I forgot what it meant to feel like that. Why Maine? I don’t know, I mean...it’s Maine. It radiates some kind of energy of people that want to escape, and it reminds me of a Stephen King novel. Some morbid part of me...
She Will Be Fine
I will be back, I said. I know you will, she said back. I winced as she smiled her beautiful smile and I smiled back, but my smile was not beautiful like hers.After a hug and a playful push of the wheelchair, I left her; and I told myself that she would be fine. I dreamt up scenarios of her being fed, bathed, told stories and put to bed with care. I convinced myself that she would be loved and that she would know that I would never forget her. She would have a wonderful journey with others like her.With the same journey.And then I checked the address for my own wonderful journey. The image of ...
The Last Shift
It took time but I made it…I remember, I went from working in the credit field to the telecom field. Two distinct fields with no concrete correlation. I had to take that new job. It was from one call center to another call center but the pay increase was significant. Almost 56%!!!Where I used to work, people were very friendly and we were a small team, a small department. I felt like we were a family. We werewww.onedoor.cc about twenty-five employees in that office. After some time, the tasks involved had become too monotonous. I would end up repeating the same speech to the clients. The good side was the s...
That Which Comes For Them.
As the faded black quilt of the night masks out the everlasting intense flare we call luminescence,And the harmonies of all blissful things fall prey to the mournful music of the ever obfuscous vault.The quiet mellow wind will drift, consuming the ones who shiver in the rawest of frost.And then, when all the voices of the world remain unspoken, That's when, the eternal deepening pained souls,The beaten.The discouraged.The crippledThe broken...For them, it will come. That which threatens the presence of suffering and grief,Of torture and pain.----------------------------------------------------...