Trini Gonzalez
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Death by Chocolate
DING-dong-DING The unexpected sound of the doorbell shook Alex from his afternoon slumber. “Whothehellcanatbe?” he slurred as he sat up on his couch, wiping his eyes and bracing himself. “Damn solicitors, stupid ass postman,” Alex muttered under his breath as he pushed himself up, slipped on his socked feet into his black slides and made his way to the front door. His six foot two frame allowed him to flip up the small curtain and look out the slender pane of clear glass decorating the door. His irritation mellowed into a sly grin as the offending bell ringer was not a salesman or postman, but rather one of the current object of his affection – Rebecca.
By Trini Gonzalez5 years ago in Fiction
Seven Weeks
If you would have told me seven weeks ago that I would get to experience Darwin’s theory on a daily basis you would have been the proud recipient of a playful “go fuck yourself”. Scavaging for food? Dying from a papercut? A new world order dictated by charismatic villains wielding barb wire wrapped basedball bats. GTFO. I watched all those old zombie and the “end of the world as we know it” movies and television shows. What are the chances that the canvas of the modern world would now resemble those farfetched dramas? I am not exactly sure how we ended up here - small wandering groups of citizens scavenging for necessities in cities and towns once bustling with life. I close my eyes and think back...
By Trini Gonzalez5 years ago in Fiction
