Patting Myself On the Back. I Acted Like A Professional Writer Today

Lately, I’ve been submitting short stories to magazines and anthologies. Lars’s Muse is one of my favorites. I’ve been submitting this flash fiction piece off and on since 2015 after it didn’t become a finalist for the contest The Cult of Me.

This month, I submitted Lars’s Muse to Horror Tree’s Trembling With Fear. Horror Tree is a great resource for writers looking for dark-themed places to submit to. Recently, the founder Stuart Conover decided to open up submissions to create a reading section for the site. New short stories are posted every Sunday.

Luckily, I heard from Stuart a couple days ago. Who knew a rejection could be rewarding? No sarcasm, I promise. I appreciated that he took the time to offer me suggestions to improve my story. Not only that but he gave me a chance to resubmit Lars’s Muse!

So instead of sulking over a rejection, I embraced it. I revised my story and resubmitted to Trembling With Fear. I’m very proud of myself for showing vulnerability by sharing my work and acting like a professional by listening to constructive criticism.

Maybe the 4th time will be Lars’s Muse lucky charm? I hope so. If not, then I’ll look for another place to send it.

Keep smiling,

Yawatta Hosby

Three Babes in the Woods by Yawatta Hosby

Three Babes in the Woods

by Yawatta Hosby

Copyright 2016

Three Babes in the Woods

If I shut my eyes, maybe Mommy will forget about me. I only need her to forget about me for about ten seconds. Well, I’m not very good with math, maybe it’s an hour. I squeeze my eyes tighter and tighter. And, I hug my red fuzzy Elmo tighter and tighter.

Elmo. Yikes! I throw him away from me in the back seat. He hits the side of the door with a thud. Oh no, the thud may get Mommy’s attention. I can’t open my eyes, so I can’t tell if she sees me or not.

“Honey, what are you doing?”

“You can see me?”

“Of course, honey, are you playing a game?”

I wish it was a game, but I’m scared to dea—Wait I don’t want to say death. Oh no, I said it by mistake. I don’t want to die. Maybe if I don’t answer Mommy she’ll forget about me.

“Honey?”

I open a eyeball. Mommy’s looking at me through the rearview mirror. I can’t hide anymore. I may die.

“…I throwed Elmo.”

“Why? He’s your favorite toy.”

“He’s scary.”

Mommy laughs. She stops when she sees I’m not laughing too. “Why is he scary?”

I hide under my coat by pulling it up over my head. Then I point out the window, afraid to see the scary sign. We go on this road every day to get home, and I didn’t know it was scary until yesterday. Bennie, my older cousin, warned me about Elmo leaving his three daughters in the woods to die. That the scary blue and yellow–I mean gold, is it gold or is it yellow? I haven’t learned all my colors yet in school–sign near the road is proof that it happened. Bennie says if I become a burden on Mommy and Daddy, then they may leave me in the woods to die too.

“What are you pointing at? The woods? You love the woods, sweetheart. Tell me what’s going on.”

“Did we passed the sign?”

“The sign? You know what the sign means?”

I stop hiding under my coat. Mommy needs to see me shake my head yes.

“Oh, Samantha, you’re too young to understand. How in the world did you hear about what that sign means?”

“I know-I know that Elmo killed his three daughters because they were a burden. Mommy, how does Elmo have daughters? Did he get married?” I reach out for Elmo. The seat belt cuts into my chest, but I manage to get him. Mommy needs to see who I’m talking about. No more lies, Mommy.

“You don’t have to be afraid of Elmo. He’s just a toy.” Mommy frowns. Oh no, is she lying?  “I wish I could’ve explained things when you’re older, but let me try to now. I don’t want you afraid. Nothing bad will happen to you, honey.”

“But-but something bad happened to those girls. They died in the woods. Can I die in the woods too?”

“I’ll do everything in my power to protect you. Me and your daddy.”

“If Elmo’s just a toy, then who killed those girls?”

“Elmo Noakes was a man from California. He took a road trip with his three daughters and girlfriend. They ended up here in Pennsylvania.”

“Why did he kill them, Mommy?”

“In 1934, I want to say it was the Great Depression, but I’m not sure. I was never good in History class. I think… Mr. Noakes was a desperate man. He couldn’t afford to support his family…it was a tragedy, but you have to know me and your daddy love you very much. You never have to worry about us abandoning you.”

“Even if I’m a burden?”

“You’ll never be a burden to us, honey. Never.”

Did Elmo ever tell his daughters that? What if Mommy changes her mind? Bennie said it could happen at anytime. I never want to go camping again. I never want to drive on this road again. I never want any fur coats either.

And, I hate the color green. Green used to be my favorite color, but not anymore. Those three girls were found by a green blanket. Why couldn’t it have been a blue blanket? The awful scary color blue. Scary blue and scary yellow or scary gold. I really need to learn my colors.

My best friend in pre-school is scared of frogs. My cousin is scared of dogs. My little sister is scared of the boogeyman. I’m scared of Mommy and Daddy, thanks to my cousin Bennie. I’m scared to die. What if I become a burden and they decide to leave me in the woods to die? What if Mommy is lying about Elmo? I look at my red fuzzy toy. Is he going to kill me? Is he going to leave me in the woods to die if I become a burden?

What does burden even mean? I’m scared to ask Mommy. She may lie. Shutting my eyes tight doesn’t help me disappear. I’ll have to come up with something else. Only when we take this scary road that passes that scary blue and yellow—or is it gold?—sign. The sign that says On This Spot Were Found Three Babes in the Woods. Nov.-24-1934. The only reason I remember is because last night my cousin Bennie made me say it out loud a billion times until it stuck in my head.

How can I disappear? And what does burden mean? I’ll ask Bennie the next time I see him.

THE END

Nico’s Blood by Yawatta Hosby

Nico’s Blood

by Yawatta Hosby

Copyright 2016

Deanna slammed the bathroom door shut as someone pounded on her front door. She muttered under her breath, exhausted with the morning’s events. She could only hold the producer off for a couple more minutes–she was under contract after all.

She walked towards the door, her hand on the knob. Before she opened it, she happened to glance down at her shirt and gasped.

Blood stains all over her gray v-neck!

“I’m coming,” she yelled through the door, then proceeded into her bedroom. In the hallway, she made sure to pause for a moment to stare at the bathroom door.

Could she pull this off?

Her freedom depended on it.

It didn’t take long for her to change into different clothes. Within a minute, the producer, camera man and sound guy of the popular reality tv show Married At First Glance were in her living room, setting up equipment. Deanna dreaded filming days–her “husband” Nico was such an asshole. Where had the casting director found him?

Deanna and the producer sat on the couch. She offered him something to drink but he refused.

She glanced at the sound guy who was taping a small microphone onto a lamp near the wall by the bathroom!

Deanna’s heart beat quickened.

A few steps further and he may open the bathroom door! It’s not like she could stop him. Or could she?

“I’m sorry to say, but Nico isn’t here.”

The producer rolled his eyes. It’s not like this wasn’t a common occurrence. Nico believed in the philosophy that every rule had loopholes. Like he could be “married” on a tv show but during non-filming days leave to screw his ex-girlfriend who had conveniently found love for him again since he became a star. “Where is he?”

“If I knew, I’d tell you.”

“I’ll be right back.” The producer stepped out of the living room into the kitchen in a haste, frantically whispering into his cell.

Good. The kitchen was far from the bathroom. She looked over at the sound guy again–he’d made his way closer to the bathroom door!

Deanna slumped into the cushions, her arms wrapped tightly around her body. She was too afraid of showing nervousness by fidgeting. Just then, her feet kept tapping the wooden floor. Just then, a bead of sweat fell into her eyes, stinging her vision. Just then, a tear fell down her cheek. Just then, the smell of blood invaded her nostrils.

She breathed heavily again. No stop that. Take deep breaths. Act normal, damnit.

Closing her eyes for a brief moment, she took deep breaths and counted slowly to ten. The long winded kind…one-Mississippi, two-Mississippi, three-Mississippi, four-Mississippi, five-Mississippi, six-Mississippi, seven-Mississippi, eight-Mississippi, nine-Mississippi, ten-Mississippi.

When she opened her eyes again, the producer was standing in front of her, looking down at her with an amused expression dancing within his eyes and smile. “I couldn’t get ahold of him,” he had hesitated as if he was debating if he could get away with teasing her or sticking to just the professional banter they’ve always had.

Sexual harassment was a sticky situation, after all.

Deanna gulped, wiping her eyes, trying to stop the stinging to no prevail. She gave a nervous grin when the producer sat beside her again.

Even though he wore cologne, all she could smell was blood. Blood. Blood. Blood.

Nico’s blood…

All she had to do was stall long enough for them to leave once they realized they couldn’t film without the “couple.” All she had to do was hold it together. Hold it together, Deanna, her thoughts mocked her.

Or was it Nico playing tricks in her mind? Like he was haunting her from the grave? His grave–the bathtub.

What a mess!

But he deserved it!

Deanna got a little kick out of that thought and gave a wicked grin. Catching herself, she bit her bottom lip and turned her face away from the producer.

Keep it together, Deanna.

Stop mocking me, Nico! You suck, you dead bastard!

“Are you okay, Deanna?”

Afraid her voice may betray her, Deanna simply nodded. She braced herself (thank goodness for meditation and yoga lessons) then met the producer’s gaze, as if nothing had ever happened.

As if there was no dead body in the bathtub.

Did she even remember to close the shower curtain to hide the evidence in case someone walked in?

Did you remember, you stupid bitch?

Nico stop mocking me! Nico, you dead stupid bastard!

“So…I don’t want to get him into trouble but I haven’t seen him all night. He never came home.”

“Do you think he’s at her place?”

Deanna liked how the producer said “her” as if the ex-girlfriend’s name coming from his lips would be a betrayal of her trust.

Deanna was the laughing stock of this social experiment. She heard through the grapevine that the other two contestants got amazing, attentive husbands, so why did she get the jackass?

I’m not a jackass!

Shut up, Nico! Nico, you dead rotten bastard!

Come in the bathroom and make me. Make sure someone follows you in here!

“Shut up!” Deanna covered her hand over her mouth, realizing she said it out loud.

Damn you, Nico! Damn you, you dead rotten bastard!

“I’m sorry to mention it. Don’t worry we’ll find Nico.” The producer hesitated before patting Deanna quickly on the arm. He leaned over to whisper, “Don’t worry. We’ll give Nico the bad edit, but I’ll deny ever saying it if you blab that secret to anyone.” He winked.

Deanna’s heartbeat calmed down. She gave a genuine smile, pleased that the producer was on her side.

“And if you don’t?”

“We will. There’s no show without the stars.” The producer winked again.

Deanna wondered if winking was his go-to defense mechanism in a crisis.

Oh no, she hadn’t been paying attention to the sound guy. It only took a second. A second for her life to be over. A second for someone to find her haunting secret.

She had to get them out quickly!

“Should you go looking for him?”

“I have assistants for that.”

She bit her bottom lip. There was no way they’d stay the full hours required to film, would they?

Would they? Would they? Would they? They smell the blood too! They’re just toying with me!

“Oh okay.” Deanna tried to hold the producer’s gaze but failed. She scanned the room. Camera guy by the door. Mic guy still by the damn bathroom! Producer on the couch.

She rested her sight on the mic guy. When  he looked at her, she said, “Would you like to sit?”

He leaned into the wall. “I’m okay, ma’am. Thanks though.”

Ha Ha!

Shut up, Nico! Nico, you dead rotten bastard!

“Please sit down. It’d make me more comfortable.” She hated that she had to nag him but it was the only way. He had to sit. What if Nico was right? What if guys who stood did have a sudden urge to pee?

She only had one bathroom!

The bathroom with her dead “husband” spawned in the bathtub–guts and blood pouring out of his body like a sausage.

Deanna gave a wicked grin. She was happy that the mic guy attempted to stand up from the wall. Before he could move, the producer said, “You guys can take a break.”

“Thanks boss.” The boys didn’t hesitate to leave her apartment. Two down. One more to go. The stubborn producer.

He’ll save me! You killed me! You killed me, Deanna, and you will pay for it!

Shut up, Nico! Shut up, you damn rotten dead bastard!

More sweat fell down her forehead. “What happens if you don’t find him? Seriously.”

“If he doesn’t show up soon, I have no choice but to call Mr. Poe and get my ass chewed out over spoiled Nico.” The producer patted Deanna on the arm again. “But it won’t come to that. He’ll come. I know it.”

Blood invaded Deanna’s nostrils again. She glanced over at the bathroom door. The door that taunted her.

Open me. Open me. Open me. You know you want to. Look at your bloody masterpiece. Come on, you know you want to. Ha ha!

Shut up, Nico! Stop taunting me. You dead rotten bastard!

“Do you need a break? I mean, I don’t want them to get the wrong idea with you alone with me.” She was desperate, pulling the fear card. Her life was at stake.

All because of Nico. Nico, the dead rotten bastard.

The producer gave a poker face and stood up, avoiding Deanna’s gaze. “I should take a break. I’ll be back soon.”

Yes, he’s walking away! I win! I win, Nico, Nico–you dead rotten bastard!

It was perfect. She stared at the producer’s back, he never glanced back, his hand on the knob.

Turn it. Turn it, damnit.

But he just stood there with his back still facing her. Seconds seemed like an eternity. She counted to ten–the long winded kind…one-Mississippi, two-Mississippi, three-Mississippi, four-Mississippi, five-Mississippi, six-Mississippi, seven-Mississippi, eight-Mississippi, nine-Mississippi, ten-Mississippi.

Like a horror movie with the most intense scene being played in slow motion with the creepy music in the background to give the full effect, the producer turned around. “Before I leave, can I use your bathroom?”

Noooooooooo!

Yessssssssss! Ha ha! Justice after all!

Shut up, Nico! Shut up, you dead rotten bastard!

Deanna stood. If she had to, she’d physically block the door. The door that haunted her. The door that taunted her. The door that smelled of Nico’s blood. Nico, the dead bloody bastard. “The toilet’s broke.”

Taken aback, the producer said, “Oh, well I can look over it. My dad’s a plumber.”

Noooooooooo!

Yessssssssss!

Shut up, Nico! Shut up, you dead rotten bastard! I’ll make sure to hide your body so no one can ever find you. No proper burial for you. No closure for you or your spoiled family.

Good luck with that. He’s going to save the day. I knew there was a reason I liked him.

Shut up, Nico! Shut up, Nico, you dead rotten bloody bastard!

Noooooooooo!

Yessssssssss!

The producer shifted his stance to his left foot. “Well? Do you want me to look at your toilet?”

Yessssssssss!

Noooooooooo!

Yessssssssss!

Noooooooooo! “Noooooooooo!” Deanna coughed. “I mean no. No offense but I’d rather have a professional look at it.”

She sighed in relief when the producer sheepishly exited her apartment. The apartment with the bathroom door that haunted her. The door that taunted her…The door that smelled of blood. Nico’s blood. Nico, the dead rotten bloody bastard.

THE END

 

When the Lights Go Out-Ink Slingers’ Halloween Anthology Officially Released!!!

  

A collection of twenty-five short stories just in time for Halloween. Enjoy thrills, chills, and mysteries. Meet ghosts, demons, vampires, and monsters everywhere from dark city streets to the English countryside. Scares lurk in the most unexpected places and, when the lights go out, no where is safe and no one will be spared.

Here’s an excerpt from my short story, The Body By the Tree:

There were cracked head stones, dead flowers and weeds coming through the ground. Even the trees looked lifeless. No ghosts. No zombies.

I still wanted to leave as fast as possible anyway. Only Bentley would want to teach me a life lesson on a chilly, windy night. The wind howled like the Hocus Pocus witches were riding their brooms near our ears.

“Do you promise I won’t come across dead people?”

He smirked. “Absolutely.”

If you want to check out the Halloween Anthology, it’s on Amazon and Smashwords.

Happy reading!

Keep smiling,

Yawatta Hosby

Plenty of Fish Is Finally Published!!!

Some people believe authors only have one story to tell. Well, I’m happy to prove them wrong. I’m beyond excited for publishing my third book on Amazon!

Since Plenty of Fish is a short story, it’s only 0.99 cents.

Plenty of Fish OTHER SITES

Local celebrity painter Mackenzie knows better than to talk to strangers. But, he seems to know so much about her already…

EXCERPT

He approached her, extending his hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Hesitantly, she shook it. “Do I know you?”

He laughed. “You’re funny and pretty.” He held on a few moments longer than necessary before releasing Mackenzie’s hand.

She wrapped her arms around herself, scanning the area. Her bag was placed on the table against the back corner wall. She’d have to find an excuse to make her way over there to grab her cell phone.

Heart thumping, she faked a smile, wondering if he was looking for a hook-up. She wasn’t interested in finding out and just wanted him to leave.

She faced her canvas, keeping the guy in her peripheral vision. How should she play this out? Play along like she knew him? Ask for his name? He must be a commenter on her blog who happened to live in the area. On Mackenzie’s ‘About Me’ page, she revealed the city she was from. Maybe that was a mistake?

“I’m sorry.” He frowned. “I know I’m early, but I really wanted to meet you. You don’t have to be bashful with me.”

“I’m quiet with everyone until I know them.” She kept her voice steady even though he was creeping her out. She loaded her brush with more paint and dabbed the canvas.

“But you know me.”

She looked at him, and studied his face, but still didn’t recollect anything. “I’m sorry, but I don’t.”

TO BUY PLENTY OF FISH PLEASE CLICK ON THE BOOK COVER IMAGE ON THE SIDEBAR

Keep smiling,

Yawatta Hosby

Pit Stop By Yawatta Hosby

The short story Pit Stop is an excerpt from my novella Something’s Amiss.

COPYRIGHT 2014

Pit Stop By Yawatta Hosby

Silence lingered in the car even though it was packed with four people. Poe and Raven sat in the back. From the corner of her eye, Poe noticed Oliver looking at her in the mirror. She busied herself, fidgeting with the suitcase that lay near her feet. Raven told her about her favorite cartoons. Poe pretended to be interested.

She felt envy toward the little girl, who didn’t feel the tension in the car. It must be nice to be full of innocence and naivety. To not understand the emotional toll it took being near an ex and his new girlfriend, especially when the new girlfriend wanted to flaunt it in her face. How did Poe get in this predicament anyway? The plan was to stay in a hotel. Why had she let Oliver talk her out of that so easily?

She shook her head and looked out the window. Was it a good idea to leave Dominic alone in the house all by himself? Maybe she should have offered to stay at his place to look after his daughter. That way he would have someone to talk to.

Even though her stomach cramped from not eating all day, Poe was not motivated to enjoy a meal. All she wanted to do was curl up in the fetal position and cry herself to sleep. She had sobbed last night and then this morning in the shower, but she had plenty of tears left. Yet, she couldn’t cry in the car–not in front of Oliver and Kate. And what about Raven?

Poe sighed and looked at the little girl. She needed to snap out of her funk if she wanted to baby-sit her properly. She tried to clear her mind and absorb Raven’s descriptions of Dora the Explorer, Spongebob Squarepants, and Care Bears.

“Honey, you’re dropping them off right? Then we can go to dinner,” Kate said in an annoyed tone, as if she was tired of their company in the back seat.

“Who’s them? My name–my name is Raven.”

“Kate was using a pronoun,” Poe said.

Raven placed her index finger on her lip. “Pronoun?”

Poe patted her shoulder. “Yes, I’ll teach you all about it later if you want.”

Kate must be ex-phobic; that could be the only explanation why she didn’t speak civilly at Dominic’s place, and now Kate was trying her best to get Oliver away from her.

“Honey?”

“Actually, I’m staying a little while. I want to see my mom.” He tapped the steering wheel. “Then we can go out to eat.”

Kate pouted, folding her arms across her chest. She stared out the window.

He sighed. “What’s the problem? I said we’ll go after I see my mom.”

“I’ve been waiting since last night for our date. Can’t you visit her tomorrow?”

“Please don’t throw that back in my face. It’s not like I stood you up on purpose.” Oliver gripped the steering wheel. “How can you sit there and ask me not to visit my mom after you know what happened?”

“Please. Like you really want to see her. You just want to be up under your ex, and I’m not allowing it!”

“You’re losing it, Kate. I’m not playing your game.”

If this was a game, Poe could only imagine when Kate was really angry. Jenna hadn’t been lying when she said Oliver had a handful. Raven perked up and stopped playing with her teddy bear. She must like witnessing drama as much as her mom did.

“If it makes you feel any better, Kate,” Poe said. “I have a boyfriend back home.”

“Like it matters.”

Raven hugged her teddy bear. “Leo is nice. He buyed–he buyed me a slice of pizza once, and we played Mario Kart.”

Like it matters. Kate must have heard the story of how Poe and Oliver ended up together. When they were twenty-two, Oliver was dating someone else and Poe had just moved in with Jenna after college graduation. She met Oliver through Jenna. Poe liked men who looked into her eyes and studied her. Oliver was like that. Many times, Poe had caught him staring at her. Eventually, they had their first date at Four Leaf Clover. Oliver was Poe’s first love, the one she lost her virginity to. The details were kind of blurry regarding whether or not he had broken up with the other girl first. They had followed their hearts. Poe could see why she’d be a girlfriend’s enemy. That one incident would forever brand her as the ‘relationship killer.’

Poe’s first time was in the back of Oliver’s Jetta; she observed the back seat and grinned. Reminiscing about that hot, passionate night made Poe forget her stomach cramps. She knew she shouldn’t be thinking about Oliver. It was wrong, yet it felt as if it was meant to be. Memories of him were a part of her life.

#

For a split second, Oliver peeked in the rearview mirror to look at his little cousin. He never knew Raven had met Leo; Jenna and Dominic had failed to mention that. Perhaps Leo and Poe were more romantically bonded than the impression he had. Images of his ex and her new man holding hands out in public rippled through his mind. He imagined them meeting with each others’ families as if they were in a serious relationship. Oliver gulped when he imagined Poe getting intimate with Leo. It had taken Poe a while to open up to him, to allow him to knock her wall down, so why did Leo get off easy? What was so special about him?

Oliver was tired of being the nice guy, the one who set his happiness aside for everyone else. Starting today, he would fight for what he wanted. The embrace at the airport and stolen glances of Poe wasn’t enough for him. Oliver needed to be close to her again–emotionally and physically. His stomach clenched. Why couldn’t Poe be his?

Oliver made a u-turn.

Raven gasped. “Ollie, this is the wrong way to Aunt Lily’s house.”

“I know. I have to make a pit stop first.” Oliver focused on the road, avoiding Kate’s icy glare. He stared at the taillights of the car in front of them. He swallowed a knot in his throat while looking the other way. He wanted to dodge the sidewalk at all costs. They passed the boutique where Jenna was killed. In his peripheral vision, he noticed the yellow caution tape, and frowned. His heart sank.

Did Poe see the scene of Jenna’s accident? What is she thinking about at this moment? She’s so quiet. I wish I had a paid subscription to read her mind all day.

Oliver’s destination was the Ruby Tuesday parking lot. Oliver parked the car and left the engine running. Everyone gave him a questioning look, yet Poe seemed the most curious. In the next minute, she would probably think he was an asshole, which he couldn’t bear, but hopefully Poe would let him show her that he was still the guy she had fallen in love with.

He pulled out his wallet from his back pocket. “You want a restaurant so badly, here you go.” He extended a hand filled with cash. “Here’s money for dinner, a tip, and cab fare.”

Kate’s hand was gripped on her knee. “Honey–“

“Here. Take it and get out of my car.” No more Mr. Nice Guy. No more Mr. Pushover.

“Honey–” Kate pouted, squeezing her eyes tightly. Fake crying wouldn’t work this time. She had fooled him when they first began dating, but once she revealed her dream was to win an Oscar, Oliver wised up, which wasn’t hard for him to do since Kate always went through the same routine before a tear fell from her eye.

“Take the money and get out. I want to grieve with people who cared about Jenna. I want to grieve with people who won’t make today about themselves.”

Like clockwork, tears fell down both sides of Kate’s cheeks. “I’m sorry, Honey.”

Oscar indeed. “It’s too late for half apologies. Bye, Kate.”

She caressed his cheek. “No, I’m not going anywhere.”

“If someone tells you to do something, you should do it so you don’t get a time out,” Raven lectured.

Kate snatched the bills out of Oliver’s hand, then got out of the passenger side, and slammed the door. He could see her in the rearview mirror as he drove off. Good thing she didn’t have a key to his apartment. Otherwise, all his clothes would be drenched in bleach. She had the audacity to do that to her ex. What did he see in her again? Maybe deep down, he was punishing himself for not fighting for Poe to stay in Rhode Island.

THE END

“Room For Two” Found A Home!

My short story Room For Two was accepted to an online literary magazine!!! If you want to check it out, here’s the link: The Write Place At the Write Time Spring/Summer Issue 2013. It’ll appear on their website under ‘fiction’ until their next issue on September 22nd. After that, it’ll be stored under ‘archives.’

Keep smiling,

Yawatta Hosby