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The Nightmare Catcher ch 1
The Nightmare Catcher.
"Excuse me, but this is our table."
The young girl gazed up and saw three girls, two with very blonde hair and one brunette, all wearing the stereotypical and "every girl biggest dream" cheerleader dresses. Blonde girl number one, (obviously the leader), who had told her to move away, spoke as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. They were the queens and she was a lower peasant. But the girl just starred expressionless at her, then continued to draw in her sketchbook.
"I don't think you own this table. Is your name on it?"
Blonde girl number one looked down at the dark clothed emo-girl who had just ignored her command and then physically pulled her black skinny legs up and dropped them back on the bench.
"Well, I can't see your name on it either!" Blonde girl number two smirked.
Without taking her eyes off her sketching, the emo-girl grabbed one of her dark colored pencils and scribbled her name (with her left hand) on the desk, upside down from
The Nightmare Catcher ch 10
When you're in a nightmare, everything feels like you have been there forever. The time in our dreams is not the same as in reality. You can dream a world that feels like you have lived there all your life, but you have only been there a "few seconds." You don't know where your dreams start or end, you don't know how you came here or why you are dreaming this way. Dreams or Nightmares have no structure. But sometimes it feels very real and you believe that it's true and real. But has it ever happened to you, that you know you're dreaming and you want to change it? What would or should you do?
Carrie's POV in her Nightmare:
She backed into the furthest corner, as he advanced dragging his claws along the walls.
A furious scream was unleashed from her lungs. "Let me out! Do you hear me? I said let me out!"
He grabbed at her throat and pulled her down on her back. Carrie winced in pain, which only made him drool more. She tried to punch It, kick It, anything to get him of
The Nightmare Catcher ch 2 part 2Carrie sighed and stood in the threshold outside Dr Gordon's door. She watched the lives of so many people pass by her. She was in the middle of nowhere, she was almost 18 years old and she was supposed to living the best part of her life.
"After all these years and they still haven't found him..." She muttered. She thought long and hard about him, memories of earlier years came flooding into her mind. "You fucking bastard, just wait when I get a hold of you."
Taking a seat in Chickentown's small park, she quickly skimmed through the notes Rebecca had received from the social workers, doctors and her former school guidance counselor, Mrs. Miller " We are referring Caroline T Reilly, for her outburst of negative behavior, bad temper, and we also believe that Caroline may be suffering from a eating disorder "
She found a small letter from Dr Hellsinki, or Dr Hell, her former psychiatrist back in St Johanna.
"This girl has been bouncing from department to department for years; a
The Nightmare Catcher ch 2-1The Nightmare Catcher chapter 2 part 1.
Dr Gordon sips tea and smiles at Carrie. She had offered a cup to Carrie, but she had said no thanks and now just lay expressionless on the couch in the therapy room. Dr. Gordon or rather Rebecca was an average woman of over fifty with blonde-gray stained hair and brown friendly eyes. She had lived in Chickentown for almost twenty years after marring and moving in with her husband. She was the town's one of four therapists, so she knew a great deal about almost everyone's secrets and problems. But her main focus was dealing with problem youths. Kids with drug problems, family problems, being bullied at school or having bad self-confidence. She'd met and treated every kind of problem and she knew she was good at her job. But this girl was unquestionably the most difficult case she ever met.
Rebecca tapped her pencil against her clipboard, each tap sounding especially loud in the silent room. She was in a staring contest, and both she and her oppon
Let the Sparrows InI.
Blackbirds rest on the power lines,
their silhouettes form the notation
to a dawn song set on the sheet music
of telephone poles contrasted by the sun.
Curled leaves are land mines littered
on the lawn where imprints of twigs
and a nurturing robin's tracks collect.
Branchlets and leaflets stem from
porch step railings and mailboxes;
the numbers read odd on the east,
even on the west side of the asphalt:
The engraved letters on
the siding reads, "Davis."
This house is home to family
so let the sparrows in.
with its branching hallways
furniture rooted to the floor
family, friends, the occasional
out from home.
Let the sparrows in; let
Let the door's
loosen—let the door stand ajar
be let open
the night owls and
let the doves
in pairs in the iridescent
Let the sparrows in.
Framed on either side
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