Her Story_The wardrobe_A Rose Tipped Cigarette_The Train of Time
Catalog Guide:
Her Story
After the doctor had delivered his prognosis, Margaret reviewed her bank accounts and her small investment portfolio. If she cashed everything out, and figured in her social security, she would have ample funds to take a room at the Palisades for six months. That would be more than enough time. Margaret and the Palisades hotel had a history. She had spent the happiest days of her life working there as a waitress during the summer between her junior and senior years at Michigan Normal College. At that time, the hotel had been a bustling resort, filled with families who could afford to get out ...
The wardrobe
I have always wanted to find a magical portal. I have always always wanted to find my own place. Big or small. I don't care. Just a place only I know about. Where I can sit, and watch the stars, or hear the muffled shouts and clangs of the outside world. I have always been disappointed. But this story is not about me. This story is about a a young girl, called Lottie. Lottie, an orphan, was lying in bed, looking at the stars. She was alone, again, everyone else fast asleep, but each night, Lottie stayed up, sowww.onedoor.cc fascinated by the stars that shone through the window above her bed. Her blonde hair...
A Rose Tipped Cigarette
A slow and careful opening of Tom Jarvis’ office door meant it was best to assume a fixed downward stare. It was always junior employees who prolonged their entrance. Milling around in the doorway in that way that was so incredibly annoying to him. Tom would see how long he could keep ignoring them before they eventually had to speak out or risk upsetting their productivity for the day. So as a limp knock was followed by yet another long protracted squeak and his office door began to open Tom removed his gaze from the window, eased his forehead under a cupped hand and prepared for t...
The Train of Time
I have always thought that time was the longest train running in the vast field that has no borders. I am standing there in front of the massive train and watch it pass. Each carriage of it probably equals to less than a second in our world meaning it has an infinite number of carriages. Each carriage is a memory of some moment. It goes so fast. The time. The train.It goes and never even thinks about stopping or coming back.It goes and takes all the sweet moments with it.The sweet moments I want to embrace once again.If only I could stop the time for a while to make some dear moments longer I ...