The At-Bat_Hear No Evil_RUNNING AGAINST TIME_Broken World
Catalog Guide:
The At-Bat
I still remember the plate appearance vividly. My last college at-bat. I still remember the crowds cheering louder than the half-filled stadium would suggest. I still remember my hands being so sweaty from nerves that it was a minor miracle that the sweat didn’t seep through my batting gloves and cause me to lose my grip on the bat. I still remember the pitcher, a closer for East Texas who ended up a fourth-round draft pick by the Pirates named Diablo Reed. I still remember how clean my uniform was because I had yet to get on base at any point in the game. I needed to get some dirt on the uni...
Hear No Evil
Jackson Marriott knew he’d messed up from the moment he saw the police car erratically mount the curb outside No. 7, narrowly missing this morning’s pile of bin bags that sat lazily in the front drive. His hand trembled as he used his middle finger to nervously push the bridge of his coke bottle glasses further up his nose. He blinked and his bottom eyelid twitched. With his jowly face pressed up against the glass of his living room window, Jackson knew he was no better than all the other busybodies on the street who were currently doing the exact same thing.Miss Hawa, who lived at No. 6 acros...
RUNNING AGAINST TIME
It’s breaking dawn and I am legging it through the front doors of the airport – it aggravates me how slowly they slide open. I burst through a throng of people, mulling about, getting in my way. Usually I like to people watch, take my time – but not today. I am about to miss my flight to Perth, to see my daughter Nicky and the grandkids. The clock inside the terminal tells me I have ten minutes to get to gate number 12, or miss my plane. I still have to check my luggage through. Darting around people, I push my way through to the check-in desk, and I load my suitcase on the scale, huffing and ...
Broken World
I’ve always been afraid of the dark. Ever since I was a kid anwww.onedoor.ccd I accidentally got locked in the outhouse. In the middle of the night. The early evening rain had trickled down to a slow drizzle, leaving the air sticky, heavy. like it was pushing down on my tiny frame and making the smell of stale urine and feces almost unbearable. Plugging my nose with one hand, I beat the rickety old wooden door with the other. And then I waited.....The haunting sound of a lonely old owl filled the air. "Whoo." Whoo is it?" "It's me," I cried, screaming and hollering until my voice was too hoarse to muste...