Trash Drawing Novels & Stories

I say exited "Let's make a cheers to taking out the trash" ••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Charvi pressed, "Where do you need to go now?" "Could you drop me off at the house, please?" Back at home, Zara was surprised to see the house spotless. Sharon had to be rushed to the hospital that day. The food had been left out, but Trevor had saved what he could in the fridge and tossed the rest. That explained the big bag of trash Bob mentioned he had thrown out that evening. In the attic, she noticed her bedding was all new and neatly made, bringing a tear to her eye. They had cameras in the house. After asking Charvi to leave, Zara watched the last footage of Trevor on her phone. He was cleaning everywhere, something he had not done in decades. It was as if he knew it was his last chan

To keep the peace, I never brought them through the door. Every day after school, I hid the case behind the fire hose cabinet in the hallway. It became my secret studio. Before my parents came home, I'd crouch under the dim light, drawing on scrap paper I'd fished out of the trash. I drew rooms bursting with furniture, beds drowning in stuffed animals, floors covered in thick carpets. I drew chubby dolls in bright, mismatched clothes. Page after page, I filled them with crowded, cluttered spaces that felt warm and alive.

One was deep and booming, easily commanding the attention of the others, who murmured anxiously in response. As we passed rows and rows of metal shelves, nearly all of them empty apart from a few moldy boxes, I scoured our surroundings, trying to glean what information I could about this place. “Looks like it was some kind of make-up warehouse.” Tristan said gruffly, his eyes darting towards the ground. “See all the trash?” Sure enough, there were flattened boxes belonging to various brands of make-up. I recognized a few, having owned some myself, though the packaging we walked on looked to be a couple years old.

I went upstairs, grabbed the box with the paint and teddy and tossed them into the trash. Walking back in, I got a new text. [BIG FUCKING MISTAKE!]

With him, I'm willing to give a piece of myself up, let him help me figure out who's hiding under everything she's tried to cover up for so long. Paper after paper goes into the trash bag that I'm going to run by the shredder we use where I work. I don't even know why he's kept most of this stuff. My goal today is to get the desk completely clean. It's a great desk, but it does nothing for Trick, and it looks nothing like him either. I have a plan, but it'll only work if he agrees.

They’re way too big for my hands, but they’ll protect me from anything gross, or sharp. I flick the light of the cabin on as the sun starts falling behind the trees. I get to work, using an old dustpan to scoop up the obvious trash and dump it in the sack. There’s something satisfying about the rustling sound. With one bag full, I knot the top of it, and carry it out to the porch.

I couldn't help but say, "You should laugh while you still can. Once you regret this, you won't be laughing anymore." Calum's brow furrowed. "What are you even talking about? What do we have to regret? Stop talking nonsense." Why would they regret it? Because the demolition was fake, and they had just driven away a son worth hundreds of millions over something that didn't even exist.

Trashed. Each one she threw out felt like another snip to the ties that bound her to him, a cleansing of every night she lay awake in bed, waiting, wondering, and wishing for him to come home. She took the haul of trash out to the dumpster. When she got back inside, the severe smell of the cleaning chemicals burned her nostrils. Her steam was running out, and she decided to leave the floors for tomorrow to have some kind of plan for the next day.

I start scrubbing at the carpet with ferocity. “Just like you,” he counters, and then he lets out a low, guttural groan that makes my stomach do a weird little flip despite the fact that I am currently elbow-deep in a cleaning disaster. I finished the job and stood up. I didn’t look back as I hauled the bag of trash toward the door because if I see one more inch of his bare butt, I am going to lose my mind. I’ll need a very strong bleach with a high concentration of acid to clean out the live p**n image from my head.