Finished Folds (1—3)

• 3
  Pica, they called it. The incessant urge to pick and eat the paint. It wasn't that it tasted good--quite bland, actually. But it had a texture that trumped any fear of lead poison

  Folder

  Otis

  Folded

  2015-09-17 11:22:07

• 2
  without fail. Compass in hand, he headed East toward the hills. Or was it East? The compass rose appeared to be damaged by the crash--as was much of his memory of the night past.

  Folder

  Otis

  Folded

  2015-09-17 11:16:56

• 4
  It wasn't my imagination-the fungus was real. I had seen it before in my Nana's attic and in the old barn on Whitmore. I recognized its color variations, blue and red twisted veins

  Folder

  Otis

  Folded

  2015-09-17 11:06:38