The Night Is Dark And The Rain Is Soft_Have apple pie with me_Monologue_The Light in the Sky
Catalog Guide:
The Night Is Dark And The Rain Is Soft
It is an ordinary summer evening- or about as ordinary as any inpidual day can be, really- when the skies crack open. There is no warning to it, no light drizzle- the clouds break opwww.onedoor.ccen and rain comes thundering down, racing down windows with vigour and beating against cracking cement road. It screeches against windows and doors; the cold seeps in through the crevices between floor and walls, the grooves between roof and tile, the spaces between here and there.There is a split second that lasts between one raindrop and another when everything stills for a moment, quiet, and then immediately aft...
Have apple pie with me
TW: cannibalism You have beautiful skin you know. Our skin has a way of being endless in the sense that you can never quite locate an edge to jump off of. There is no hem to find. God was very ingenious with that. I wonder if he did it so we couldn’t peel each other like bananas. I wonder if he knew we might like to. Are you religious? Or are you spiritual? You know a lot of young people these days, I hear them talking, about how they don’t believe in religion. That it is corrupt, deceitful and other vile things. They say we should open our eyes, break our chains and believe as they do in spir...
Monologue
TW: self harm“Blood is sticky. A viscous crimson fluid. Regardless of the bleeder it looks the same. It is the ultimate leveler of playing fields. Strip the skin off the bone and voila’ …. red, gelatinous liquid. Blood doesn’t care about skin pigment: Brown, ivory, dark, light, …. Whether the body is young or old. It all looks the same in the phlebotomist’s needle. When I cut myself, I bleed red. I sit in the corner of my dimly lit room and filet bracelet scars around my wrists and scrape diagonal stripes along my forearm. The blood that oozes from my superficial self-infliction moves slowly ...
The Light in the Sky
A bright sky above a valley turns dark within moments. The tree leaves sway vigorously as a thunderous sound causes her to shrink deeper into the picnic mat. Alan is still running playfully around the tall tree above them, his hat flying into the wind though he did not care. "Alan, let's go home," she says, her tiny six-year-old voice barely heard by her younger brother. Another thunderous sound erupted as her eyes wandered frantically in search of him. A few seconds later, she spotted him flat on his back unmoving on the side of the tree as a flash of light brightened the sky for but a moment...