Trash Drawing Novels & Stories

The neon green cup with the cat in the center sits on the edge of my kitchen counter. Right below it on the floor, my trash can waits. It will take one quick flick of my hand to send the cheap souvenir container over into the bin. Then it's a simple tie job before I walk the bag to the trash and throw away a piece of Trey. I should do it.

“Nilah, you're Framing me. How dare you do something like this?!” I shrugged in response and smiled, “Director, I believe that everyone should know what to say and when to say it and this is exactly what you have done but you hid them. But if you don't want your dirty laundry to be shown to the public, the idea of taking things that don't belong to you shouldn't be acted on. Even though we all know that what you took is actually community trash, it still doesn't matter. Trash is still trash, once the use for something has passed what it's meant to be used for, it becomes trash. Be careful, director, so you won't catch diseases from the trash you're keeping.”

To her, that was worse than death. "Too bad, it's not up to you." Donovan waved, ordering, "Exile them to the Wastelands. They are never to set foot in any packs again." The Wastelands were a barren, desolate region in Northmere—no food, no water, only howling winds and savage beasts. Being sent there was synonymous with a death sentence. The Gamma warriors stepped forward, dragging the mentally shattered Falcon and the struggling Julia out like rugs. Walter remained collapsed on the floor, watching his son being taken away. After a night, he looked decades older.

They wouldn’t be this careless. I click into the trash folder. It’s empty. I frown. Leah never empties her trash. She lets it accumulate the way she lets everything else accumulate—ideas, worries, half-finished thoughts she means to come back to later. The emptiness feels wrong. Like a room that’s been cleaned too thoroughly.

He asked them to throw away the photo. They fed it into the shredder, and the machine ran for less than a second. The last photo left in his file was not of the crackers but of an empty chair. Travis quit and spent six months at home. I ran into him once when I was on the east side of the city, running an errand. He was on the ground floor of a shopping mall, wearing a white button-down and black slacks with the name badge of some tutoring center clipped to his chest. He was handing out flyers by the escalator.

Her wrinkled and frostbitten hands were covered in dirt. There were all sorts of empty bottles, cans, and cardboard boxes in the corner of the room. "Why are you collecting trash?" Trudy covered her nose and mouth. She said disdainfully, "Have you turned your home into a garbage disposal site? I can't take it anymore … The smell is too much!" Mindy's face flushed. She stuttered, "I-It's a pity t-to throw them out w-when we can sell them for money." Trudy looked at Mindy's hands. She mocked, "Come on, you're clearly collecting trash. There's no point in hiding it."

"We have no real bond. If you want to talk about bonds, I admire the connection between you and Lisa—the perfect 'fostered' setup. I'll be rooting for you two!" I turned and walked to my car. I fired the company security guard on the spot. I also decreed that from now on, all trash bins in the company would be transparent—I refused to let outside garbage sneak in again. Alistair never made it in again, though he only sank lower. He posted public apologies online, knelt outside our company begging for forgiveness. Lisa tried desperately to drag him away, but he shoved her violently. She fell to the ground and bled immediately.

She thought Edgar was using an excuse for another veiled confession of his feelings for her. "If you don't like it, I'll change my design topic," Edgar said softly. "It's just an assignment. Please don't be upset, Jess." While Jessica was still angry, Cooper hurriedly chimed in with a conciliatory smile. "Yeah, you should change it to something else. Coffins are so morbid. Young people like you should think positively and be a bit more cheerful." Edgar gathered the scattered documents from the floor. Then, he threw them all into the trash in front of Jessica. Only then did her tense expression ease slightly.

Having filled the small table with tissues, Josey finally relieved herself of all the tears that would come. Tossing the finished coffee and tissues in the trash, she started her tirade of deep cleaning in the bathroom finally. Several hours had passed and she had managed to conquer over a dozen colonies of dust bunnies, rivers of loose hair and unidentified hidden crumbs under the sofa. Even in Emily’s room she obtained a trash can full of paper bits, tossed sketches, and the occasional snuck snack wrapper. Her sister's hobby for drawing and tossing, could fill a landfill in no time.

Time. I stared at the deduction in my journal: -98. Taking my pen, I crossed it out and wrote -100 beside it. Then, with a sudden surge of determination, I tore the pages from the journal one by one. The ripping sound was satisfying, cathartic. When I finished, I gathered the torn pieces and dumped them into the trash. It felt symbolic, purging Ethan from my system. I moved through my apartment with newfound purpose, systematically removing every trace of him. The small gifts he'd given me over the years – into the trash. Photos of him on my wall and in albums – removed and discarded.