The narrator finds a dirty greenish-yellow cube-shaped object with a rough green layer on one side lying in the kitchen basin. Upon inspecting it, the narrator squeezes the cube and water comes out, noticing it is soft and absorbs water. More experiments show it can absorb half the water in a cup and better scrub off stuck-on stains from dishes than just its body. The narrator formulates that the cube must be used for cleaning dishes, which is proven correct by using it to scrub off curry stains from a plate. The narrator's mother later identifies the object as a sponge.
My book! Book 1 of 5 from the series D.R.E.A.M. Read, enjoy and then email me...stephaniecrescent13
Here, is my book! Please enjoy it and pleeeease read it as it took me about 2 years to write! lol! After you have read it email me over facebook with comments and improvements would also be hugely appreciated as I am sending it off to a publisher and I want it to be as good as it can get! Thanks, and now I will leave you to it so you can read....hopefully! xx enjoy! x
He Brought His Bimbo Wh*re To MY HOUSE For Christmas...
And I Knew I'd End Up In Jail or the Grave... Unless I Did Something Drastic To Change My Life
Hi, my name is Angela Carter.
What I'm about to share with you is hands down the most humiliating moment of my life.
It was the first Christmas after my divorce.
And I can still feel the heat of my face blazing firetruck red.
How I felt frozen in my shame.
I had spent my entire life manifesting the perfect life for everyone else...
But completely ignored myself in the process.
I never felt like I had the time or energy - for ME.
Even though I'd actively participated in every moment of the creation of my life...
I just didn't see myself in it anymore.
My Lost Memory: Short Story Essay
500 Word Short Story
The Power of Storytelling Essay examples
Reflection Of A Short Story
Short Story
English Year 11 Essay
Essay On A Single Story
Essay about The History of English
Essay On Storytelling
Essay on Short Stories and Poetry
Essay on Eng 102 Short Story
Essay on Original Writing: Short Story
Longest Paper Ever
This energy is what empowers us to live our best lives.nirahealhty
“YES!” I replied.
Anthony went on to tell me that in his own journey...
He discovered how to trigger an energy “switch” that was much faster and simpler than the ancient chakra teachings.
He told me about how he came across an ancient Tibetan prophecy called “The Tiger Prophecy.”
It was the 몭rst Christmas after my divorce.
And I can still feel the heat of my face blazing 몭retruck red.
How I felt frozen in my shame.
I had spent my entire life manifesting the perfect life for everyone else...
ropiateswriters•Posted by uKrisleigh81How it all b.docxDustiBuckner14
r/opiateswriters•Posted by
u/Krisleigh81How it all began
I remember my mama trying to make me feel better. I didn't though. I began to hate myself on that day. I was traumatized and felt like maybe Daddy would stop doing this shit if I was a better princess. I know it sounds stupid. I was three.Polluted
It has been 5 days since I took a shower, or changed my clothes. My teeth are rotting away, and so is my body. I haven’t eaten anything in the past two days except for 5 packs of skittles. The green ones. The doctor said that they’re not good for my tonsils but I chew on them anyway.
Using the only money I have left, I buy a pack of cigarettes. Camel 8 mgs. The highest level of nicotine you can find in Korea.
I light a fag and contemplate asking Dianne for money. Dianne is a language student at Chung-Ann University, and also a part-time sex-worker. Woefully, the only person I know in the world who wouldn’t give me hell for my self-destructive habits. That’s the thing I admire about her. She doesn’t judge, preach or care to tell me to mend my ways.
“Where are you?,” I call her up.
“What happened?”
“I need $150, I don’t have any money.”
She hangs up.
Fuck.
I light another fag, and stare at the sky. There are no stars. Only a blanket of city pollution. How lovely would it be if you could get high on air pollution. Maybe I’d move to Kanpur then, WHO says it is the most polluted city in the world.
Last Time
Romancing the good times
With smoke in our eyes
When love was a sand dune
And sirens were lullabies
We burn our feet on buried embers
Tourniquets and shattered glass
And lie this time will be the last.
Day After Fucking Day
I feel like a wind-up soldier. Turn the key and I'll march. I can feel every single gear turning in my body.
Wake up. Stay in bed for three hours. Finally check the mailbox wearing the same pajamas I've had on for the last two days. Three bills and two science fiction books. Back inside, quickly.
Order food. Kills my wallet but fuck dicking around and choosing food for an hour. Lay on couch. Watch TV until I hear a knock on the door. Back on the couch.
It's fucking disgusting. I have six instruments in the other room collecting dust. I have a jar of pre-workout that I've only opened once. My longboard hangs in the closet, haven't used it since college. The book I've been writing hasn't progressed in months. This couch can't complain though...
Is this depression or laziness? I'm notorious for both, though I wonder if they're one in the same.
I don't know a single person in the state I'm living in. No human interaction whatsoever. I blame that on my job, driving around for countless hours in that shitty van all over the country. Pays well, get some cool stories, cool sights. It just takes up all my time. It'll be a year in December. Not speaking to anyone save for myself and the few phone calls I have with family and my boss. I don't trust anyone around me because I don't know them. I don't leave the apartment with.
My book! Book 1 of 5 from the series D.R.E.A.M. Read, enjoy and then email me...stephaniecrescent13
Here, is my book! Please enjoy it and pleeeease read it as it took me about 2 years to write! lol! After you have read it email me over facebook with comments and improvements would also be hugely appreciated as I am sending it off to a publisher and I want it to be as good as it can get! Thanks, and now I will leave you to it so you can read....hopefully! xx enjoy! x
He Brought His Bimbo Wh*re To MY HOUSE For Christmas...
And I Knew I'd End Up In Jail or the Grave... Unless I Did Something Drastic To Change My Life
Hi, my name is Angela Carter.
What I'm about to share with you is hands down the most humiliating moment of my life.
It was the first Christmas after my divorce.
And I can still feel the heat of my face blazing firetruck red.
How I felt frozen in my shame.
I had spent my entire life manifesting the perfect life for everyone else...
But completely ignored myself in the process.
I never felt like I had the time or energy - for ME.
Even though I'd actively participated in every moment of the creation of my life...
I just didn't see myself in it anymore.
My Lost Memory: Short Story Essay
500 Word Short Story
The Power of Storytelling Essay examples
Reflection Of A Short Story
Short Story
English Year 11 Essay
Essay On A Single Story
Essay about The History of English
Essay On Storytelling
Essay on Short Stories and Poetry
Essay on Eng 102 Short Story
Essay on Original Writing: Short Story
Longest Paper Ever
This energy is what empowers us to live our best lives.nirahealhty
“YES!” I replied.
Anthony went on to tell me that in his own journey...
He discovered how to trigger an energy “switch” that was much faster and simpler than the ancient chakra teachings.
He told me about how he came across an ancient Tibetan prophecy called “The Tiger Prophecy.”
It was the 몭rst Christmas after my divorce.
And I can still feel the heat of my face blazing 몭retruck red.
How I felt frozen in my shame.
I had spent my entire life manifesting the perfect life for everyone else...
ropiateswriters•Posted by uKrisleigh81How it all b.docxDustiBuckner14
r/opiateswriters•Posted by
u/Krisleigh81How it all began
I remember my mama trying to make me feel better. I didn't though. I began to hate myself on that day. I was traumatized and felt like maybe Daddy would stop doing this shit if I was a better princess. I know it sounds stupid. I was three.Polluted
It has been 5 days since I took a shower, or changed my clothes. My teeth are rotting away, and so is my body. I haven’t eaten anything in the past two days except for 5 packs of skittles. The green ones. The doctor said that they’re not good for my tonsils but I chew on them anyway.
Using the only money I have left, I buy a pack of cigarettes. Camel 8 mgs. The highest level of nicotine you can find in Korea.
I light a fag and contemplate asking Dianne for money. Dianne is a language student at Chung-Ann University, and also a part-time sex-worker. Woefully, the only person I know in the world who wouldn’t give me hell for my self-destructive habits. That’s the thing I admire about her. She doesn’t judge, preach or care to tell me to mend my ways.
“Where are you?,” I call her up.
“What happened?”
“I need $150, I don’t have any money.”
She hangs up.
Fuck.
I light another fag, and stare at the sky. There are no stars. Only a blanket of city pollution. How lovely would it be if you could get high on air pollution. Maybe I’d move to Kanpur then, WHO says it is the most polluted city in the world.
Last Time
Romancing the good times
With smoke in our eyes
When love was a sand dune
And sirens were lullabies
We burn our feet on buried embers
Tourniquets and shattered glass
And lie this time will be the last.
Day After Fucking Day
I feel like a wind-up soldier. Turn the key and I'll march. I can feel every single gear turning in my body.
Wake up. Stay in bed for three hours. Finally check the mailbox wearing the same pajamas I've had on for the last two days. Three bills and two science fiction books. Back inside, quickly.
Order food. Kills my wallet but fuck dicking around and choosing food for an hour. Lay on couch. Watch TV until I hear a knock on the door. Back on the couch.
It's fucking disgusting. I have six instruments in the other room collecting dust. I have a jar of pre-workout that I've only opened once. My longboard hangs in the closet, haven't used it since college. The book I've been writing hasn't progressed in months. This couch can't complain though...
Is this depression or laziness? I'm notorious for both, though I wonder if they're one in the same.
I don't know a single person in the state I'm living in. No human interaction whatsoever. I blame that on my job, driving around for countless hours in that shitty van all over the country. Pays well, get some cool stories, cool sights. It just takes up all my time. It'll be a year in December. Not speaking to anyone save for myself and the few phone calls I have with family and my boss. I don't trust anyone around me because I don't know them. I don't leave the apartment with.
1. I entered the kitchen like any other night. However, something caught my eye as I
walked past the basin. There, a cube with a dirty greenish-yellow body with a rough,
thin green layer on one side was lying on the basin. It‟s colour may not be vibrant yet
was lively enough to catch my attention in that dim corner, as if it‟s a lighted match in
a dark desert.
I walked towards it and I picked it up. I don‟t not know how heavy it is but I
compared it with the light press of my uncle‟s new-born baby.I feel it‟s cold and wet
body as I grasp the cube with my hand. As I squeeze the cube lightly, it‟s shape
bends to my will and cold, muddy water flows out of my palm and drips into the sink
hole. The harder I squeeze the thinner the cube gets and more water were drained
into the sinkhole. At the same time, it produce a squeaky sound as if it was in pain. I
open my palm and watch it breathe in the air and slowly reshaping itself. As it
breathes, I feel the relaxation of the cube as it‟s weight decreased to feather-like.
Filled with curiosity, I poured water into a cup and dunk the cube into the cup. It‟s
shape changed to fit into the cup and the water overflowed from the cup. I noticed
the water was halved when I pull the cube out of the cup.
I brought it closer to my face. Before I knew it, a strong mixture of curry, oil and
chemical smell entered my nose. I moved my face away with my nose shut using my
other hand and my eyes shut tightly in disgust. A second later, I look at it again with
my heart screaming, „I want to know more! Take a closer look!‟ I listened to my heart
and brought it closer to my face a second time with a precaution. On a further look, it
looks like a soft toy with pores on it. Yet the closer I look, I realize it looks more like
tiny strings of fabric sewed onto one another. The green layer however was made
with a rougher strings of fabrics sewed tighter than it‟s yellow body.
2. After the close inspection, I looked at the cube at a further distance. My mind
questioned, “For what reason should this cube placed in the kitchen? More
specifically why placed near the basin? Why not place it on the dining table or the
microwave?” For awhile, I stood there reflecting what I have learnt and relate it to my
question. I picked up the cube and decided to prove the hypothesis I formed from
that while. I pick up one of the dirty plates my sister did not wash with my other hand.
With the cube, I rubbed the curry off the plates repeatedly, most of the stains came
off as soon as I touch the plate with the cube. However, some part of the stains were
sticking onto the plate and it‟s impossible to rub it off. I tried using the green layer to
scrub the stains off. It work better than it‟s yellow body. My hypothesis was proven
right, it was used to clean dirty plates. There are not reason to place it in the dining
table or the microwave because it does not only serves no function but might also
dirty the place.
Like a poor student finally understanding the laws of index, I jumped and screamed
with happiness. My mother came in and yelled at me for screaming. When I
explained how I understand the use of this cube, she replied, “It‟s called a sponge,
you fool!”