Storygram #185
The sun was already well on its way to the top of the sky by the time he opened his eyes. In his little corner of the woods, time allowed him the luxury of sleeping in. But he had earned this one luxury by giving up all of the rest.
Storygram #184
The standalone portico’s roof was made of spaced wooden slats, letting sunlight through in stripes across the brick floor. As she walked through it, she thought it to be a good representation of the barred members of society, living in shadows while the rest were allowed to freely shine.
Storygram #183
Nothing was going through his mind. The fear was too big for there to be any thoughts. He could only focus on the panic fueled action of running from what was sure to be the beating of a lifetime, far worse than the bruises and black eye a month ago.
Storygram #182
They had allowed him 75. After those 75 failed, he convinced them to provide the funding for 25 more. At 100 he secured private funding for an indefinite number, but they cut him off after 46. The last four experiments cost every dime he had ever saved of his own money.
Storygram #181
The sun’s harsh light blared through the front door. The whole house was dark as the rays managed to skip past the walls and fall precisely onto my glass of water, illuminating its contents. Before two months ago, I was never much of a water drinker.