LadyDoom

The Power of Wrath Hands shaking, Christa reached forward to grasp the silver doorknob.  Her lips quivered, and her face dripped with sweat and fear: fear of the truth, and of what might happen in the room behind the door.   For a moment, she hesitated, her fingers frozen above the knob, twitching.  The act of opening a door is a simple one; simple, painless, and easy.  But at the moment, the decision to open the door wasn’t easy at all, because really, if she were telling the truth, she was hesitant to go into the room that remind her so much of him, and what he had done.  She had de

Chapter 1- Why? Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out… Why am I doing this breathing thing anyway…? Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out… Oh, yes… to live.  I must breath to live, right…?  I breathe air to be alive.  In, out, in, out…a constant rhythm that will repeat itself again and again until I breathe my last breath… in, and out. Why am I thinking this…?  In, out, in, out.  I think… I was able to do this without thinking once before, so why start thinking about breathing now?  Why not just let it BE… I BREATHE.  There are no in’s, or out’s about it,

A pair of purple converse sneakers: That’s all in the world that I can truly claim as my own.  I bought them a year go for about fifteen bucks with money that I got from relatives in holiday cards.  Everything else in my life isn’t really mine; the clothes in my closet, the posters in my room, the desk in the corner where I do homework, the name brand shampoo in the shower, my favorite junk food in the cabinet, my school things—my parents bought all of that.  But my converse… I bought those, so they’re all mine.  And I always have my life savings ($62.32) stuffed into the two toes, so truly, I always have everything I

I love change, and especially quarters.  I always buy peppermint patties at the pizza parlor with them, and when I was little I’d always put one of those Washington coins in the bubblegum machine, and watch the little colored ball drop, praying for pink. But I can’t help but think we take change for granted; in my lifetime, I’ve probably put a hundred of coins into a hundred bubblegum and pinball machines, and that’s a hundred of dollars lost, never meant to have come all together in my pocket. People despise pennies it seems, because you can find them everywhere: on the streets, in the park, in the forgotten corners of

When It’s Alright to be Wrong A "Politically Correct" Case: Part I of II Ima wasn’t really religious.  It wasn’t that she was an atheist or anything, it was just that she didn’t care because she had more important things to worry about.  Of course, not caring about religion didn’t stop Ima from believing that someone up there had it in for her, or that she was the butt of some divine joke.  After all, what other explanation was there for her name?  Ima Wrong.  Either some God was having a good laugh at her expense, or otherwise her parents had been very, very drunk w

Three months and two cases following the first test trial for the Jurist System, it occurred quiet suddenly to Apollo that he was all but living at the Wright Talent Agency.  Behind the main office there were two bedrooms—one for Mr. Wright and one for Trucy— a kitchen and a spare room filled with old case files and all sorts of new law books which Mr. Wright was studying whenever he got the chance in preparation for retaking the bar examinations.  Somehow however, most of Apollo’s worldly possessions were strewn haphazardly about that room, and for some reason he’d been sleeping on the shoddy little couch that’d been