Teivel was marked. His marking was not like the others. Let’s begin long ago. Even as a child, he knew he was different, but he didn’t know why. “You’re special, dear,” His mother used to say. Her words comforted him when he came home, dejected that none of the other children would want to play with him. He had no obvious affliction, yet people were innately hesitant to approach him.
This stigma grew more and more until he reached adolescence. It was clear that he was not the same as his peers. He had once been found out back in the school yard; holding down a stray cat by its neck. Scratches ran up Teivel’s arm. “It had tried to bite me,” he said. A teacher was called, and they had him release it, and watch it run off into the bushes. Continue reading “Five-Pointed”
It was another night at the store. This was during a particular long stretch where my manager decided not to change up my schedule at all, which was good for me. This meant I could make plans ahead of time, knowing that I would be able to keep them. This also meant that I would see her very little.
During the times when we had enough people and the assistant manager was there to do orders for her, she would take a few days away from the store. When she did show up, mostly when she needed to make contact with the higher-ups, she was there during the early hours of the day. I guess it gave her a chance to get food from the grill in the back.
When not hidden back in her office on the phone, she was up at the registers doling out a list of things for us to do and buying snacks and cigarettes. That’s actually how I was trained on the register, by having her rotate constantly back to my window to check something out using various methods. I think she even had me check her ID for her Marlboro Gold 100’s, which I discovered were her favorites.
It had been about two weeks since I had seen her in the store. The only contact with her was hearsay from the other employees. I was standing up at the register, most of the way through the night already. Everything was pretty much done, and my coworker was taking his lunch. That’s when a familiar sounding hacking come to my ears.Continue reading “See, Store Ep3: Raspy Voice of Reason”
In the near dystopian future where Donald Trump becomes President, big changes are happening. For Sergio Simmons, a natural born American citizen, things go south when he is forcefully reconnected with his heritage, and is volunteered for a project some call “The Wall.” Who will end up paying? Take a wild guess.
Keep in mind that this was written in just one month, and most likely has some spelling, grammar, or other mistakes still hiding in there. I have gone back and tried to edit the best I can, but as far as this project goes, it was a one shot exercise for fun. Enjoy it for now before such the topic becomes irrelevant!
It was about two weeks ago I moved in. Foreclosures. For someone just moving into town following a job opportunity, it was great; and by that I mean the price. For being a first time buyer, it was fairly painless too. Foreclosures are sold by the bank, after all. Regular sellers are obnoxious and realtors are even worse.
There were a few pieces of furniture left over. The previous owner lost his job apparently, and couldn’t keep paying the mortgage. Poor sap. Well, his loss is my gain. I also didn’t have any furniture so I couldn’t complain, even if they are a little worse for wear. There was some other junk lying around that I had to clean up, but it’s a small price to pay.
I’m still sorting through it. So far all the living space is clear and I was able to move into the house properly. The last bit was down in the basement. It’s probably the biggest mess, and while it was out of the way, I wanted to get it sorted through. I can’t imagine the thought of rats or other things living down there.
At the back of the heap of things that were mostly broken, I found something built into the floor. It seemed like a hatch, and beside it was a small hole dug into the concrete leading downwards. It may have been a drain of some sort, if the cover had come off. Whatever it was, it was caked in dirt and other filth. I shined a light down it, but it just contained darkness for what I could see. Continue reading “Follow My Hand [WP]”
It was another slow night. Like, really slow. There were generally three phases of the night. The evening, which was still daytime for normal people. We got the least amount of problems during this time because it was when normal people had stopped drinking and more… dedicated people had yet to begin. The end of this period is right before we stop selling alcohol, when people want to make last minute purchases, or fail to do so because they are too late.
The second stage is generally dead. No more alcohol, sorry.
The third stage is prime time for anyone who had maken the choice, whether voluntarily or not, to not make any contribution to society. Somehow, even they took days off too. This was one of those days.Continue reading “See, Store. Ep2: Snake Escape”