I don’t know when exactly I started taking photos. I believe it was somewhere in high school when I got one of those Cybershot cameras. Or maybe even before when I had the disposable cameras. You know the ones. When you had to actually get your film developed. Those were the days. Advertisements
I didn’t sign up for this shit. Matthew sat on a chair, his head leaning backward, hanging over the edge of his seat. He signed up to kill shifters, not babysit one.
The cage door screeched as it opened, and Marissa wondered if it was her fear that had heightened the sound. While it struggled to completely open, she dashed across the room. The last thing she wanted was to be trapped against the door when whatever was behind those bars came out. She needed room to run and think. At the end of the exceedingly long corridor, the room split off and dim lights came on. Left and right were her only options. She darted to the left and saw another opening on her right. She skidded into it and paused. The next room was a straight path but there were openings on both sides of the walls. She counted 6 on both sides. God, she hoped she wasn’t in a maze.
I’m taking a cycling class!!! The ending of this year, I committed myself to becoming a much healthier person. I needed to change my eating habits ASAP and become more active. Becoming more active also meant giving up some sleep which is probably the hardest part because I love me some sleep. So. it’s not that I’m losing sleep—because that’s counter-productive—but rather I’m working on staying up more. My sleeping schedule is stupid as hell. I’m the kind of person who would wake up at noon and then go to bed at 4 a.m. I’m not a morning person at all. In fact, I’m inclined to believe people who wake up at 5 a.m. are hellions. Baby Jesus ain’t even up yet, why the hell are you? But I guess I have started joining you underworld folks in order to continue on this “best me” shit.
Class is in session again. I realize that many of you don’t quite know how to conduct yourself on the “interweb,” but that’s why I’m here–not really. My job–it really isn’t–is to help you assimilate into this online life seamlessly…and with as few dragging sessions as possible.
Marissa’s gaze shifted slightly, wondering if it was still too late to dive out the window and make a run for it. Maybe Melanie was bluffing and the drop wouldn’t kill her. And if she was some supernatural creature surely, she’d be fine. The hairs on her neck were standing. The room was dead silent. They were waiting for her to give her answer. Though she was focused on her escape, she was also very aware of the men’s’ bodies. They were prepared to shoot at her at the slightest suspicious movement. She did not like her odds at all right. Even if she could use the window, she’d probably be riddled with bullets before she could jump out.
So I just wanted to share one of my bad habits with everyone. To make things shorts, I don’t fix things, I replace. I’m typing this piece while staring at my cracked iPhone which I am about to replace as soon as my order arrives sometime next week…or next month…whenever the U.S Postal Service gets back to normal following this hurricane nonsense. In case you missed it, the Virgin Islands just went through two hurricanes last month. Two Category five, fuck shit up and move along hurricanes. Irma and Maria. I can’t befriend anyone with those names now because I’m convinced that anyone with those names are miserable, wicked and bad minded. Yall on time-out until January 2018.
Another day of me not minding my business. So it’s a crisp Friday afternoon in September. The 15th to be exact. Hurricane No Way Jose just lashed at us with his tail because he ain’t shit and instead of disappearing he decides to sing despacito on the ocean. He is moving SLOWLY. So you know bad weather creates bad decisions. Like…say…hacking your boyfriend’s facebook page and letting us know that he has hella hoes.
Marissa tilted her head as she regarded the stranger standing across the room. The woman looked exhausted, and there were dark circles under her brown eyes. Her jet-black hair was cut short and hidden under an equally dark cap. The woman held her hands to her mouth, her face covered in shock and concern.
Junior high school students sure do grow up fast. I don’t know these girls personally, but I did discover that a child I knew when she was a widdle girl was also attending a Spring Ball and I felt like a crypt keeper. Why my ass so ancient? What is going on? Who authorized this? I mean I know they have to grow up but golly. I do not like Fort Christiansvaern as a location for photos because it needs a paint job, lawn care, our mentally ill are roaming about unsupervised because healthcare is a myth, and it’s overdone. Stick a fork in it, that location has been played to it’s death. I can work the area if need be, but let the fort and all it’s history of slavery die. At some point I’ll talk about our strange obsession with relics of colonialism, but that’s not what this is about. Anyways, this was yet another fun session. It took a little while to have the girls warm up to the camera and …