Freedom waffles from Gailey's
Revive my appetite
On slow paced
Snow days
To help me stay awake and
Energized as I
Dive into another adventure.
On any other day I'd be
Relaxing at home
And eating junk that is
Not even hardly comparable to
Gailey's freedom waffles.
Everyone should try them.
Tuesday, January 26, 2016
Warren's Occult Museum: The Giraffe Figurine
It is a cold, dark morning in February. Johnny, Mathilda, and Grace had been eyeing that "haunted" house at the end of their street since they were little kids. Today is the day. As they get closer, their pace slows down.
Finally, the house is right there staring angrily down at them as if to say they are not welcome on it's lawn. No playing around anymore, this time they were going in no matter what.
One by one they each step through the door, wooden floor creaking creepily beneath their feet. The house is stacked floor to ceiling, wall to wall with junk leaving only a narrow space for a walkway. Johnny hesitated for a moment then continued on between the clutter, leading the way for Mathilda and Grace.
The space around the walkway opened up to a much larger room. The room was very dim but all around there were small glass boxes on pedestals with objects inside. Grace saw no overhead light and turned around to see if there was even a light switch on the wall.
"Can I...help you kids?" Upon seeing an old man slouched over in a chair, Grace stumbled back in shock and bumped into one of the glass boxes. She turned again to see if it would fall over. The box stayed in its place but as she stared a moment longer, the small, tipped over giraffe figurine stood upright now its own. The only thing that can be heard is the sound of hearts beating fast.
"Can I help you?" the man said again in the same monotone way.
"Who are you?" Johnny demanded. "What's going on?"
"Who do you think...I live here. You're in my house."
"We...didn't know! I'm so sorry, we'll leave."
But the house is in no condition for living. Where is the bed? Why is that toy giraffe in a box? And why did it move?! So Mathilda, being bold in every way, asked the old man just that.
The man began to tell the story of a little boy who wandered in the house carrying that giraffe. But the boy was not welcome, he said. The boy didn't knock. So the man killed the boy who now lives through the small giraffe figurine, just like other intruders living through objects in the other boxes.
The three kids looked around to see the objects moving. Shaking. Faster and faster.
Johnny bursted with awkward laughter saying, "uh, right...well yeah we were just going to leave."
They heard the front door slam shut and that was the last sound they ever heard again.
Finally, the house is right there staring angrily down at them as if to say they are not welcome on it's lawn. No playing around anymore, this time they were going in no matter what.
One by one they each step through the door, wooden floor creaking creepily beneath their feet. The house is stacked floor to ceiling, wall to wall with junk leaving only a narrow space for a walkway. Johnny hesitated for a moment then continued on between the clutter, leading the way for Mathilda and Grace.
The space around the walkway opened up to a much larger room. The room was very dim but all around there were small glass boxes on pedestals with objects inside. Grace saw no overhead light and turned around to see if there was even a light switch on the wall.
"Can I...help you kids?" Upon seeing an old man slouched over in a chair, Grace stumbled back in shock and bumped into one of the glass boxes. She turned again to see if it would fall over. The box stayed in its place but as she stared a moment longer, the small, tipped over giraffe figurine stood upright now its own. The only thing that can be heard is the sound of hearts beating fast.
"Can I help you?" the man said again in the same monotone way.
"Who are you?" Johnny demanded. "What's going on?"
"Who do you think...I live here. You're in my house."
"We...didn't know! I'm so sorry, we'll leave."
But the house is in no condition for living. Where is the bed? Why is that toy giraffe in a box? And why did it move?! So Mathilda, being bold in every way, asked the old man just that.
The man began to tell the story of a little boy who wandered in the house carrying that giraffe. But the boy was not welcome, he said. The boy didn't knock. So the man killed the boy who now lives through the small giraffe figurine, just like other intruders living through objects in the other boxes.
The three kids looked around to see the objects moving. Shaking. Faster and faster.
Johnny bursted with awkward laughter saying, "uh, right...well yeah we were just going to leave."
They heard the front door slam shut and that was the last sound they ever heard again.
Friday, January 8, 2016
I AM
I am…
a classic Type A personality
a Christian; a member of the Seventh Day Adventist church
a Virgo, Scorpio, and Sagittarius
a thinker more than a doer
pescatarian in practice, but vegan at heart
high stress, but low maintenance
honest, punctual, and curious
sometimes too cautious, always too impatient, and often too bold
full of contradictions
I am…
simple patterns
iced coffee in the afternoon
comfy clothes and messy hair
the satisfaction of balancing in a new yoga pose
the shades of the pink/purple sunset
always learning something new
obsessed with my best friends
calm music
sentimental experiences
anything fuzzy and soft
weird smoothie concoctions
standing still to watch the concert
still holding onto the past
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