Trash Drawing Novels & Stories

He was so shocked that he soiled himself. The crowd dispersed in an instant. I breathed a sigh of relief, feeling as if I had just completed my final task. I swayed from side to side and nearly lost my balance when Justin caught me. I shot a comforting smile at him when I noticed the shock glimmering in his eyes. "I'm glad that you're not hurt," I murmured. There was a complicated look on his face, along with gratitude. My lips had turned deathly pale. My hands trembled violently when I lifted the bag and said, "I sent your suit jacket to the dry cleaners. I wanted to give it back to you."

Bang! Jacob Carlson suddenly pick up the tea cup on the table and smashed it violently on to the floor. His frustration turned into fury. "Trash! Who is trash! Useless pieces of trash! This woman couldn't even settle such a simple matter, she was just a trash!" He roared coldly. "I couldn't believe that this Jate Woods managed to smell a rat so easily. He's not easy to handle at all."

That means I can clean up the mess from my good deed in peace. My fingers are dancing on the steering wheel as I turn off the headlights. The wind billows around me when I get out, opening the truck to get the cleaning materials I got before I started my mission tonight. With gloves pulled tight over my arm, I start to work, dousing the whole trunk with a cleaning solution and sweeping it up with rugs. I light a fire on the ground, tossing my blood-stained clothes and the rags, watching it all vanish into black dust. “To the doctor,” I mutter, smirking as everything burns.

The trailer was cold, but not a single speck of dust remained. I had spent three weeks scrubbing, rearranging, and throwing away the remnants of a life I no longer wanted to remember. Every corner, every surface, every shadow had been meticulously cleansed, stripped bare of the grime and sorrow that had accumulated over years. The air, though no longer thick with the scent of stale beer and desperation, still held a faint, lingering chill, a persistent reminder of the emptiness that had once permeated these four walls. I had believed that with enough bleach and enough effort, I could erase the past, sanitize the memories, and finally, truly, move on.

“Evan, I’m deploying a purge script. It’ll crawl shared links, cached files, even private group chats. Every copy will vanish.” Tristan, perched on the edge of the bed, leaned forward, eyes wide. “Mom… you’re like a superhero.” His voice trembled with awe. “You can erase things from the whole internet?” Cassie allowed herself the faintest smile. “Not erase, Tris, redirect, or corrupt. The image becomes a ghost file, empty, useless. People won’t even notice until it’s gone.” Evan’s typing echoed faintly through the line. “Syncing with your purge. Running a parallel trace. Whoever leaked this left fingerprints.”

The Trash Bin was a graveyard of broken dreams. Everywhere I looked, there were mountains of crumpled paper and discarded ideas. The sky was a flat, dull gray, like a computer screen that had been turned off. I held Elle close to me, her small hands trembling against my waist.

I haven’t met them but I know it's a ‘he’ from the shoes at the door. ******** Someone left a perfectly fine fabric in the trash today. I fought the temptation and went back into my apartment without looking at it twice. Proud of myself. ******* I’m ashamed to say the temptation won in the end and I took the trash home with me. Not very proud of myself but in my defense, it’s satin! Freaking satin! ******** I’m getting distracted again. I’m drawing again. I’m designing again. I’m chasing dreams again and I feel alive doing it.

"Let's see how this goes. Let him be the cause of his own downfall. But do me a favor, can you make sure every digital trace of my connection to the Lexus family is erased? I don't want to ever be recognized as a Lexus again,” Natasha gave a sharp nod. She was an elite executive coordinator; locking down public records and scrubbing search algorithms was light work. She slid her phone onto her lap under the tablecloth, her thumbs moving rapidly to message her fixers. Meanwhile, Tristan was practically shouting over the murmurs, reading eagerly from his glowing screen. "Let's see here... ah!.” The smug look returned piece by piece as he found exactly what he was looking for. "Here we go," Tri

They were too personal for him to be reading or for someone to give him. Dangerous or not, Trent decided that the right thing to do was to throw them away. As soon as he got home, he tossed them in the empty trash can. Determined to go about his day, he went to take a shower and then started dinner. However, his eyes kept drifting to the trash can. No, he told himself. He was not going to read any more of them. When he finished, he did some work around the house and watched some T.V.

I don't think there's tape strong enough to hold it together, "It's going in the trash." I open the door of the room and focus on getting the base out to leave it in the hallway. I'll take it to the dumpster when I get out of here. I return to the room and reach over to pick up the papers that fell on the floor. They're my drawings. My favorite ones. Thank God they're still alive and weren't burned by King as I imagined. And there's also a letter here in my handwriting...