The Player; Two Doors_Midnight Visitor_Thoughtless_Two Sides of the Street
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The Player; Two Doors
Sweat licked at my palms and forehead, soaking my cotton hoodie as I darted down winding corridors and twisting hallways. A bubbly kind of trepidation pricked at my insides, making me want to vomit. No, maybe that was the smell. Burnt rubber mixed in with the stench of rotten mildew to form a horrendous aroma. Heavy and short were my breaths as my heart beat loudly in my chest, loud enough so that I felt as though I could hear it through my ears. My feet ran back and forth, left and right, never stopping or slowing down even as my thighs cramped and my feet ached and my body begged me to sto...
Midnight Visitor
“I’ll be heading out now Mr Clark,” Tim called from the front of the shop. “Please call me Walter, son. Say hi to your mother for me, I’ll see you next weekend.”Tim smiled back before zipping up his jacket and disappearing out into the rain. Walter listened as the door chime gradually faded. He would most likely go without speaking to another person until he saw Tim the following Saturday. He had managed to run the bookstore alone for the last 30 years, so didn’t really need extra help. But it was nice to have the company. It was approaching 7pm. The chances of any more customers coming in wer...
Thoughtless
So this is how it started. The end of the world. Not the literal end, we’re still around in some way or form. It’s just not like it used to be. Not many of us coherent ones left either, that I know of at least. We don’t know exactly how many have become ‘Thoughtless’, but I’m sure a good chunk of the world has turned by now. The last news coverage that I can remember had a map of the world; everywhere was yellow, which was moderate contamination. Then the red. Red was the heaviest concentration of EPS, felt like McDonalds sponsored the outbreak looking at that map. There had to be someplace ...
Two Sides of the Street
There were some questions that you just didn't ask, even at home. But sometimes Niamh's curiosiwww.onedoor.ccty got the better of her.“Dad? Why is there still a solid yellow line painted down the middle of the street outside?” she asked her father one Tuesday.Her father laid his newspaper aside. “You should already know the answer to that, Niamh. It marks the border between Northern Ireland and Ireland in our town. It's been that way since before any of us were born.”“But if East and West Germany can be reunited, why can't Ireland and Northern Ireland?” Niamh persisted.Her father sighed heavily. “It's not t...