Explore Motd

One of the earliest memories he had, sore subject as it was to ever drift back to, was of his parents. Specifically his father. He remembered warm and darkness before then, food. The kicking feet of a whiny smaller being he had yet to see with his tightly shut eyes, but it was a singular memory that marked the "start" of Truman.Before the squeaking being were two other beings. He squirmed, and after awhile his eyes opened and the blurriness left his vision. Shapes, smells, sounds, and now, sights. He suddenly took in their looks. Turning his head he caught a third one staring back at him. "That's you." The female said, and he noted she too...

Wendel had no idea what his dad meant earlier at breakfast. His dad had told him that he'd get to see Richie and things would happen. He'd nodded and had soup, that's what they gave him most mornings because milk and cereal made him cough or get bad stuff in the back of his throat. It was okay because his mom made the best home made soup. She gave him the biggest pieces of chicken too! He'd been feeling better for three days, which had gotten him a lot of praise, and a bit more 'normal' food. Sugar often made him sick, and he was picky about the fruit, but for once he'd not felt bad from having sneaked a treat. He could have sworn his moth...