The Unwilling Santa_You’re a Vision, Sis_The Reason_Safe Space
Catalog Guide:
The Unwilling Santa
Stomp. Stomp. Stomp. Old Mr. James shook the snow from his boots and coat with practiced ease. His heavy frown and wrinkled forehead made his actions cartoon-like as he tossed his coat onto the wire coat rack. He hunched his sturdy shoulders as he walked through the department store, glaring at the brightly wrapped presents, decorated trees, and Santa’s elves as they waved from every corner at him.“I don’t know why they have to go to so much trouble. Christmas is just something corporate made up to get their fingers into every American pocketbook and every woman’s purse.”He was so deep into hi...
You’re a Vision, Sis
Nellie extends her hand toward me, a magazine clipping of Joshua Bassett between her index and middle fingers. She’s making a face–her nose scrunched up over strawberry-glossed lips that purse when she asks, “This is your celebrity husband? The guy you want to bring into the new year with you?” I quickly draw a square around the perimeter of the photo with a glue stick before going back in and filling the middle with more glue. I roll my eyes, unable or unwilling to talk around the bottom of the glue stick between my teeth as I process Nellie’s disdain. With determination and focus, I flatten...
The Reason
The Reason By D. Nestor It was quiet in the room where he slept, but on the floor, near the room’s only window, dust danced in the bits of light that snuck in past the curtain. His heavy head jumped off the pillow at the sound of chirping birds bleeding from his phone’s speaker. He remembered himself and closed his eyes again. They shut desperately but slowly, and he sighed before opening them again, and sighing again. He might have made a wish, or said a prayer, or just thought of something he really wanted in www.onedoor.ccthat moment of light, dark and light again. At 4:45am on the last Tuesday of a an e...
Safe Space
*Contains references to Mental Health and Self Harm.* The number of times I've walked these paths is beyond counting. Separate space just for me. Where I'm going, no one can harm me, no one can pass judgement, and no one can tell me what to do. Zero critics, I am who I am, and that's what makes me happy. Each of us has our own unique set of little secrets that define who we are. As one might expect, some are considerably larger than others. Nonetheless, pretend your entire existence is a fabrication. When you're around, the usual calmness of the world disappears. The freedom to be oneself is a...