Trash Drawing Novels & Stories

"Please take out the trash." ***

They stepped inside, holding up their torchlights, only to be met with a room filled with garbage. The stench was unbearable, thick and suffocating. Amidst the filth lay a worn-out, grimy mat—it had been my bed. The only possession I had was a tattered doll I'd brought from home. The doll stood out in the squalor. Its age was apparent; the fabric was faded and patched in several places. Yet, it was clear the doll had once been cherished, lovingly repaired by its owner.

There was expired food in the pantry and cabinets; packs and packs of cigarettes; ashtrays filled to the brim; old magazines, some older than Trent himself; tools—broken or otherwise—and appliances and even an old VCR in the bathroom. Trent planned to leave Edward’s bedroom for last, but when he started to pick up trash from the floor and stuff it into a trash bag, he found himself in his dad’s bedroom. He continued cleaning, his mind blessedly silent for once. Bending down to pick up some papers, Trent found a cardboard box under the bed labeled Kids. He pulled it out, not sure what he expected. More photos?

Knowing that he was being laughed at, Stefan held his breath and climbed the stairs and paid no attention to the two men's banter. But, Kay howled again, "Damn motorbike taxi!" "Ha-ha-ha." Stefan was still cool and patient. Because he was used to being insulted, the little taunt just now amused his ears, especially since he didn't know the two people. However, the next morning when Stefan was about to leave for a ride, he was suddenly surprised to find two bags of rubbish on the seat of his motorbike. There was also spilled liquid. In fact, the trash can was only two metres away from Stefan's motorbike. He took the rubbish and threw it into the bin. Then he cleaned the seat of his motorbike

Morbidly neato tech, if you ask me. They proceed piece-by-piece, until the entire body is contained in tiny bags which can easily be placed inside the two suitcases and carried off to a T.H.E.M. facility for final disposal. Once they’ve finished dismantling, they roll the tarp back up (which has, naturally, gotten messy in this process), and place it in a vacuum bag as well. The last thing the extraction team is responsible for before calling it a day is cleaning up any evidence left behind—such as the substantial pool of dried blood which formed on the carpet after Mary Sue’s knife made a nest for itself in Craig the Waiter’s eye socket.

A slop cart was parked right there, collecting kitchen waste from the neighborhood. The smell was something else entirely. However, I didn't have options. I clenched my teeth and climbed inside the barrel. I crouched in the dark and the stench and let the cart haul me, rocking and jolting, all the way out of town. 'Goodbye, my husband. 'Goodbye, Grand Chancellor.' - In the study, Jeremy worked through the last document and pressed his fingers to his temple. A small smile crossed his face as he set down his quill and got up, then headed toward the bedroom.

I was planning to ride out those last days in peace, detached and unbothered, but no—Betty just had to bring the drama. She shattered my dad's urn. The ashes spilled everywhere, but it wasn't enough for her. Nope. Her cat strutted in, did its business right on the remains, and Betty? She had the audacity to grin. "Daphne, look! The ashes make great litter for my cat!" And just like that, all the grief, the rage, everything I'd been holding back exploded. I just grabbed the baseball bat behind the door and swung. The crack of impact was satisfying, but Betty's scream? Even better. She stumbled back, pale as a ghost, scrambling to get away.

I took four days off from work as I drove my family to our cabin in the woods, we quickly set up everything we would be needing, my mom strictly warned us about taking any work related calls because we would be in deep shit, and we know better than to disobey her, that woman can become an erupting volcano when she is angry, I wouldn't want that on my head. I don't know where it came from but my little sister decided that we prepare a trap, because she believed that in this woods, we could find unicorns. I told her that she had been reading too many fantasy novels, but she wouldn't let me be, so I had to do what she wanted for my own

I told them before I went to the toilet to freshen up. I do my business and was currently washing my hands when I saw the bin still full of trash. They were almost tissue paper and normal posers, but I was determined to search through every inch. So I went into the room to get a clean pair of hand gloves. I came back and started sorting out the trash, separating tissue from normal paper. It was a dirty job, but it had to be done, and after I was through, I was left with a huge pile of them. She sure likes to tear things apart. I started looking through them one by one, and they were all gibberish writing that was later cancelled until you couldn't even make anything out.

Then, he hugged me tightly and said to my belly, "Hey, you'd better behave, or I'll beat you up when you come out." We laughed as we walked away, leaving the past behind us. Rosalie must have met a tragic end, but I didn't want to care about her any longer. The pup in my womb wasn't as domineering as a pure-blood Alpha. Instead, he was very caring, and he even improved my health. Many years later, our pup retrieved an old, rolled-up painting from the study. I unfurled the painting to find that it depicted me in my younger years. I was holding a moonflower in my hand, beaming.