Alexi Hastings
Stories (4)
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An Entropic Woman's Guide To Organization
Someone once told me that there are two types of people, and although I'm more of a "shades of gray" thinker, there is definitely some value in their perspective. I digress, someone once told me that there are two types of people, those who try to control their external world because their inside world is in constant disarray and those in control of their inner world, who don't mind if the world around them is in continuous chaos. I would fall under the latter.
By Alexi Hastings 5 years ago in Lifehack
The Empty Man
It was the foliage that drew me to those apartments. The view through the large white gate to the main building was like looking into some exotic palace's courtyard. The driveway tiled in red and canopied in green created an illusion of beauty that the dilapidated buildings couldn't muster autonomously. Our home was the first apartment to the left. It wasn't anything special. In unification with the heavy air brought in from the ocean, a large wooden armoire engendered the mildew that perfumed the air inside. A black trash bag fastened with duct tape replaced the glass in the window over the kitchen counter. It didn't matter how rigorously I scrubbed the small bathroom. It never met the clean standard that my home in the United States had set.
By Alexi Hastings 5 years ago in Psyche
Lucid
She longed for sleep but achieving it was rarely an easy endeavor. Something so natural and so necessary had become an exertion. As soon as her head hit the pillow, neurons started firing in protest, sparking her left hemisphere into overdrive. Thoughts flooded her brain. Every night the same, a body worn from the day versus a mind that was waking up. The descent through the three stages of NREM was far from smooth. The initial production of alpha and theta waves was lengthened from the average seven minutes to an anxiety-filled twenty to thirty. Did I pay that bill? Could I have phrased that differently? Trivialities morphed into potential catastrophes.
By Alexi Hastings 5 years ago in Psyche
Memory Loss
It must have been the heat that woke her. Gravity pulled the beads of sweat that bubbled up from her pores down the sides of her face. Had it been this hot yesterday? She couldn't remember. She slowly opened her eyes. The dim light cascading haphazardly through the half-closed blinds was enough to cause an instant headache. She was photosensitive, as if she had been way too heavy on the drink the night before, but she didn't remember drinking. The unfamiliar hotel room was so latent with dust the particles formed a fixed film in the air.
By Alexi Hastings 5 years ago in Criminal
