Door Wide Open

November 16th, 1942, was the day Carmin was sent to an asylum for the bad thing she did. This asylum was in the middle of a crowded forest. It had mold growing on every wall on the outside. When you go inside you hear screams of agony echoing through the wide halls of the asylum. Carmin was immediately sent to go change into an old hospital gown. She had no idea where she was but she didn’t ask questions. The nuns stripped her from head to toe, washed her aggressively with burning hot water, then threw

rest of the room stays dark and untouched. The walls are decorated with faded pink wallpaper and posters of heavy metal bands. The room is trashed with clothes and pizza boxes stacked on top of each other. There is a hole punched in a wall and the door has been slammed so many times it leans to the side, barely hanging onto the frame. The sound of muffled shouts from her parents echoes throughout the house. Maisie’s pale hand reaches toward Lily and places a sticker of a tiger on her cheekbone, below

1952 - Transylvanian village of Tasani, Mezőség Lowlands of Northern Hungary Sometime after midnight, Ava’s father stood up reeling from the vodka. He clutched the old farmer's dining table, lit by candlelight in the middle of the house, and steadied himself. But the hand-made trestle table and its colorful Balkan tulip motif began to spin. All at once, the wooden table and benches blended with everything else. All of it turned gray -- the folk art on the embroidered privacy curtains

LibrarianGoddess101: “You know nothing about me yet. Interesting how strongly you feel about this.” The man watches his wife remove his wallet from his coat pocket then disappear with it into the bedroom. God damn it, he thinks, there goes any hope for having a beer, tonight, or doing anything other than watching some Lifetime Movie with my wife. The wife appears, again, from the bedroom and moves toward the couch. The man quickly closes his laptop. “I, uh, saw you took my wallet into the bedroom

I sighed deeply as I sat back on the bed. After the police arrested me and put me in here, I haven’t seen any form of humanity for the week that I’ve been in this jail cell. The meals are passed through a flap on the door and no one came to visit. It all started that morning…. “Grayson Wu! How could you? I once saw you as a friend but now you don’t even deserve to be in front of me!” “Bella! Wake up! Wake up! You can’t leave us like this!” I opened my eyes with difficulty, voices rung through

array of different colorful stitches extends from the knitting needles. Tomorrow I will be able to start a new knitting project, maybe use the blue wool to make new sweaters for the grandchildren. An unexpected sharp thud of a knock was heard at the door; more than enough to be detected by my aging ears. As much as it bothers me to get up, I refuse to let the rattling pain in my bones win against me. It isn’t that I get up at all, it just feels more complex than before. I just can’t get up too quickly

walked out of his home and began walking towards some of the neighbor’s homes. Law enforcement didn’t know where the child belonged. A neighbor (unknown) took the child into her home. Law enforcement located the child’s home and noticed that the door was wide open. When Law enforcement entered the home, they noticed 3 year old Dominick lying

In the book, “The Great Gatsby” there are many characters with a variety of different homes that portrait their personalities. The main characters are, Nick, Gatsby, Tom, and George/Myrtle Wilson. Gatsby lives in a great mansion that represents a French city hall. Gatsby uses his home to show off mainly for the love of his life, Daisy. His house is a status symbol for him along with all of his fancy cars and such. Gatsby’s house is a symbol of wealth and attention. He throws massive parties for

Jones didn't call the police in order to give Roger another chance to learn his lesson, unlike I would of called the police. But Mrs. Jones was just giving Roger a second chance. The second reason is Mrs. Jones let Roger free in her house with the door wide open. This shows

I step to stand besides them, cracking open the book at fumbling for the page, the flipping of paper the only sound of the church, given the empty pews and quieted teenagers. I jab my finger to the right spot and begin the ceremony, speaking and prodding them to do the same when the time comes. The vows are exchanged quickly, and the husband and wife embrace. They turn to thank me, eyes glistening with tears and smiles wide. It’s not an extravagant wedding, with a party of three