Thanks for your patience and support!
Ps. Anyone want to give me a short story prompt/ an idea for something to draw? It'd be appreciated!
Journalistic chapt. 40Chapter 40Journalistic chapt. 40 by FrazzeledFish
“So it’s settled then?” Sam asked those circled around him at the cruddy, worn oak table.
“As much as it can ever be.” Louis said, his hands folded on the table, face pensive, as though in some sort of repenting prayer.
Sam looked at Louis and Rosie; he supposed they were something like his knights now, should he think of himself so highly to consider himself on a ‘knightly’ mission. He bit the inside of his cheek.
“Tomorrow?” Rosie asked, interrupting the awkward silence that had risen from Sam’s bitten-cheek silence. Her voice was as gentle as ever, almost unheard above the drunken laughs and actions of the civilians surrounding them.
“A few hours, more like.” He replied finally, looking out the window and into the sky, deeply darkened, the triplets would be long sleeping by then.
“I’ve got a few bearings to get settled.” Louis jutted in, “Just a few things, you know, gott
Out to LunchOut to LunchOut to Lunch by FrazzeledFish
Dreams are hilarious. Even in the most realistic of them; where everything’s a carbon copy—
from the proportion of your door to your window down to the exact shade of ‘Precious pink’ on your
mom’s lipstick—something’s wrong. Despite the meticulous detail that would make even the most
perceptive scratch their heads, there’s always something off. Something you wouldn’t notice at first,
something that seems normal under the intoxication of REM but makes you wonder: ‘what the hell was
that?’ when you wake up.
Which is how I knew that, despite being a beautiful replica, this city wasn’t my home. It was only
a small detail that mattered. The man with Down Syndrome working at Donavins, he cleaned
the windows and when I’d come in for breakfast he’d never fail to say I was “pretty as a peach”.
Fabricated man said I was “So pretty it was criminal”.
However, unlike normal, when
Sandcastles Chapt.5July 1st, 1995Sandcastles Chapt.5 by FrazzeledFish
If you lived in the city on July 1st, you were in the Dome. Fights broke out for good seats, avoiding the roped off VIP section, reserved for the Type-A heroes. Cameras flashed. Reporters struggled to ask bystanders what they knew, whether the heroes have arrived, where they were going after the ceremony. Observing them from backstage, I realized how they all crowded in like ants on a stray apple core, all hungry and unnervingly easy to please
Nervousness knotted in the pit of my stomach. Tucker stood behind me with mom, who was adjusting his tie for the seventh time that evening. The rest of the new recruits stood behind him, all adjusting themselves accordingly to be shown in front of the city populous. All were masked. Masks that were soon to become their identity, whoever they were before this final moment was soon to be put to the back burner and stamped with the term “SECRET”.
(I guess that’s all of you now, huh, time sure flies.)
I turned to my f
Sandcastles Chapt.4March 23rd, 1995Sandcastles Chapt.4 by FrazzeledFish
Instead of going back to the party, Tucker took me to the convenience store around the corner to buy bubble gum and slushies. Everything turned out better than I thought.
Our parents didn’t think the same. Together they had explained to Tucker a thousand times how these parties would be “essential” for his reputation, and a “key factor” into fitting into the “Type A” category. For the most part, he trotted along, whipped like a prized racehorse. But there were days where he couldn’t trail behind them, he came to the point of his life where he realized, with horror, that these were the final moments of his adolescence. The rest of his years would consist of following orders, and posing for magazine covers and advertisements, along with fighting the occasional crime that posed itself. Until then, he wanted to live his life to the fullest, enjoy the last of his childhood, skip classes, smoke cigarettes (among other things),