Rebekah Anderson

There once was a little girl named Red Riding Hoody. This was because she always wore a Red Hoody when she was pimping around the town with her large group of unintelligent and easily influence…

FROM THIS MOMENT ONWARDS:

I DO NOT look back, only forward
I DO NOT lose perspective
I DO NOT get phased

WHATEVER WILL BE WILL BE.
I CAN’T FORCE LIFE.
I WOULDN’T WANT TO LIVE ONE THA…

Slid in next to Carol at the table, instead of opposite. Shouldn’t have. That’s how I’d always sat with him. Just stayed still for a moment, waiting for the memory-induced surge of crippling pa…

For tingles and smiles and hot, wet lips,
Were surely never there.
Why lend time to false memory?
I’ll make sure I’ve none to spare.

I make it my Sunlit Garden,
Or my Prison.
This is my choice.

The final installment our little bottle’s adventure, which doesn’t make sense unless you’ve read part 2, which doesn’t make sense unless you’ve read part 1

It doesn’t make sense unless you’ve read part one.

Read this, part one in a brave little beer bottle’s journey to lead a more beautiful and fulfilling existence than societal mindsets would have him believe is possible.

Wiped clean. Dragged out to sea. Gone.

Now, only the blank, level sand, as though nothing had ever marred it. As if feet had never walked there.

He cried a gray tear and mourned his gray life,
His hope could not survive.
He craved one splash of colour,
The love of another,
Whatever could bring him alive.

I will not die a second before I am dead.

Just read the damn thing! It’ll take like two minutes.