anonymouszebra
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| Type | Title | Author | Replies | Last updated |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| Story | Borrowed Bathtime | anonymouszebra | 0 | 11 years 5 months ago |
| Story | Alone at night | anonymouszebra | 0 | 11 years 5 months ago |
| Collection | You'll thank me for this later | anonymouszebra | 0 | 11 years 5 months ago |
| Collection | Middle of the Road | anonymouszebra | 0 | 11 years 5 months ago |
| Story | Warning: Don't Read | anonymouszebra | 0 | 11 years 6 months ago |
| Story | The packet of hair dye that wanted to be a glue stick | anonymouszebra | 0 | 11 years 6 months ago |
| Story | Of course, you want to see my papers? | anonymouszebra | 0 | 11 years 6 months ago |
| Story | Unexpected | anonymouszebra | 0 | 11 years 6 months ago |
| Story | No Jokes About Lemont | anonymouszebra | 0 | 11 years 6 months ago |
| Story | October Did It | anonymouszebra | 0 | 11 years 6 months ago |
| Story | My Favourite Place | anonymouszebra | 0 | 11 years 6 months ago |
| Story | Hospital Food | anonymouszebra | 0 | 11 years 6 months ago |
| Story | Faking It | anonymouszebra | 0 | 11 years 6 months ago |
| Forum topic | hospital food by anonymouszebra | Juliet OC | 1 | 18 years 9 months ago |
My collections
My stories
The packet of hair dye that wanted to be a glue stick
Once upon a time, there lived a packet of hair dye that dressed like a nostalgic glue stick.
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- 825 reads
Alone at night
All I ever wanted to do was help. The fact that my charitable endeavour went awry is regrettable; I will be the first to admit that. But how can they accuse me of actually wanting to kill her?
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- 598 reads
Of course, you want to see my papers?
I've decided on my epitaph. Actually, my whole funeral was planned out in the space of an hour, most of which revolved around the epitaph. Say forty five minutes. There was the matter of what happens to my body (cremation/burial e.t.c.): five minutes. The budget my mom should waste: five minutes. What I want done with my possessions: three minutes. The soundtrack to my death: one and a half minutes. Whether or not to write a letter to Mom to be opened in the very likely event of my death coming to pass before hers: thirty seconds. I'm a crappy letter writer.
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- 781 reads
Unexpected
1. I WAS SUPPOSED TO HAVE BEEN A BOY. But I wasn't. Instead they were given a baby girl, to love and cherish, and they had to make do. They'd already picked out the name of Benjamin, and my mother saw no reason to change it. My brother, who is the most honest person I know, made faces at me and asked why my blanket was pink if my name was Benjamin. We were driving back from the hospital.
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- 896 reads
Hospital Food
Michael - Hospital Food I'm not dead yet. That, in itself, is a miracle. Every day, there is a little less oxygen in my lungs and my heart weakens a little more. I want to tell you that I have reconciled myself to that; that death, after all the mind-numbing months in this hospital ward, would come as a relief. But. I don't want to die. Sixteen is too young to die. That's the way it is, though, and I've reconciled myself to that. Accidents happen, bad luck prevails, a sandstorm on a sunny day.
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- 728 reads