TUESDAY
Their mother pecks them on their cheek, once each, and smiles despite her tired, red eyes. She gets back into the car and waves them goodbye before driving off. Aaron, their youngest, tugged his brother’s sweatshirt before he could leave. “Kris..? Kris can you wait for me after practice? I don’t wanna walk alone..”
“Sorry, me an’ the guys are chilling after the game today. Just wait for mom. I gotta go,” he pulls way, pulling his headphones over his ears and hurriedly shuffles towards the high school, a pained look in his eyes.
Still standing at the same spot, Aaron nervously
3. Why I'm scared of antique shops by catt-gal-2006, literature
Literature
3. Why I'm scared of antique shops
It was just like any other night, y’know? Just like any other stupid night, we’re out drinkin’ and having a couple a’beers and having more than a few laughs until we saw Charlie come ‘round the corner. We haven’t seen Charlie in ages, y’know, so I was almost happy to see her. Okay, I was really happy to see her cus I’d been worried. I was ‘bout to go say hi when alla sudden Brick stars flyin’ off the walls on ‘er, like ‘where ya been ‘bitch’ and somethin’ like ‘where’s my money’ like I didn’t even know Charlie owed him quid,
2. Rising to a Challenge by catt-gal-2006, literature
Literature
2. Rising to a Challenge
You can do this. Said 20-year-old Carla, heart thumping in her chest like a jackhammer gone wild on a Monday morning. She scolds herself for being so nervous. Then she scolds herself for scolding herself, saying that any progress was good progress no matter how small the step.
She reaches for the phone and holds it to her ear. She dials the number and already the piece feels like slipping from her hand thanks to the sweat. Calm down, girl. You got this. You got this.
She tells herself. She had practiced since the day before and had repeated the scenario over in her head at least ten times this morning. The ringing taunts her, k
“Momma Ni! Momma Ni! Tell us a tale first!”
“Oh yes please! A tale! A long one! A good one!”
“O’ children, don’t you get tired of hearing stories from beautiful old me?” Momma Ni was old. Very, very old. She had seen stars burst into life and crumble back to heavenly dust. She watched voices mold and change and evolve into songs and languages. Some decayed beyond forgetfulness. Some changed till they no longer remembered what they once were. But she remembers them all.
And oh Momma Ni was so beautiful. When the old songs no longer remembered themselves, they cherished her memo