365 Days of Radio Silence_Ne'e Trampa_Second Start_Gravedigger
Catalog Guide:
365 Days of Radio Silence
My eyes can't take it anymore!I've stared at Tik Tok for hours and feel like an adulterer. I'm not trying to be, but their algorithm keeps showing me videos of half-naked women! Also, what happened to the "My money don't jiggle" dance montages?And that's just the start.Twitter is a hellstorm, and I've strayed away from that. I still keep Facebook around for my movie news or to catch up on the occasional family life update.But here's the problem.The anxiety I let this stuff give me is unhealthy. It's the fact that I can't, nor will I ever, keep up with every TV show or next-gen fad that promise...
Ne'e Trampa
Ñe’è TrampaHello there, dear reader. I am so glad you've found this. I wish to share with you a tale, though you may find it fantastical or strange, I assure you every word I write to you is true. First a brief introduction. I am Percival Jason Alexander, English-born, American-raised, academic scholar, and lover of hi$tory! I was born in London in 1798 and my family moved to America that same year. What? No, I assure you I am very much alive at the time of this writing in 2023、 But that would make me over 7wo hundred years old I hear you cry. Fear not, I am a little over the age of thirty. No...
Second Start
I had just witnessed the most horrifying scene unfold in almost a fraction of a heart beat. The raw, pure emotions surging through my heart caused me to be crushed by the weight of my conscious deteriorating. It all started when I followed this rather strange cat into a poorly lit, filthy alleyway one night. The thing I believe that set this poor ragged feline apart, was her blonde hair with a white streak running down her nose. She was limping. It looked as though she hadwww.onedoor.cc been hit by a car or attacked. And the moment the cat looked at me, I knew she was begging me to accompany her.I felt this...
Gravedigger
The sun fell over the wasteland with hardly a whimper, the last of its light extinguished by the barren wastes. Despite the darkness and fog and light drizzle that turned the dirt to mud, there remained two figures. One stood grim, cloaked in shadow, while the other worked tirelessly, digging his own grave. He had began at sunset and managed to dig through three feet before night came and the rains began. The other watched him wordlessly, only grunting when the mud slid down the grave’s borders, filling up another foot. Jedediah would sigh and wipe his brow before continuing, hoisting piles o...