She hoped that this holiday season would be the first one in ten years where the tree didn’t burn to the ground before Christmas Day.
I woke up with marks on my wrists. Two vertical, red slashes on each side. They were written with sharpie, but meant to look like self-harm scars.
Good luck ever trusting anyone again.
She had the stroke just two years after officially retiring, and her dementia seemed to just happen overnight, looking back. Never stopped loving, even when she wasn’t there anymore.
She peeled the hair back from her head like curtains with two clawed hands, revealing her nonexistent face. There were only indents across her skin where the eyes and nose and mouth would be.
“People say whiskey is a complicated drink,” Toshiko said. “But for me, it’s a very simple drink — it just happens to be mixed with a lot of complicated feelings.”
I know you hated that thing Cody. But believe me my boy, there are far worse things out there than crows or straw men.
When this story is over, YOU get to vote for the ending!
He stands on line at the liquor store, allowing the dreadful monotony wash over him like a startlingly bout of nausea.
“It is her!” went up a shout from the crowd. “It is the miracle girl! It is the girl who can heal the sick by breaking wind!”