The Residents
  • Reads 62
  • Votes 3
  • Parts 14
  • Time 7m
  • Reads 62
  • Votes 3
  • Parts 14
  • Time 7m
Ongoing, First published Jul 31, 2019
Fifty years ago, the city hall of Saltine Avocado decided to sell twelve hundred yards of public land to a wealthy veteran called Mr. Crimea. There, Mr
Crimea erected a thirteen-story-high construction, topped by a penthouse where he chose to live.

Soon after this, the town hall recognized their failure to the citizens who saw the this construction, three times above the height of all other buildings in town, obscure the landscape of the historical centre of Saltine Avocado. But now the Crimea building was built, and they were now unable to pay for its demolition without spending an incredible ammount of money. 

Flash-forward fifty years.

Twelve of the owners remain inside this building when a long-awaited eviction notice arrives. Jason Brie and his wife are living in Canada when their learn about the news. In order to occupy their last strand of land in American soil, they rush out to Saltine, stocking up on electrical batteries and food. After filling their tubs with tap water and hanging a Crimean flag on their windows, they brace themselves for the worst.
All Rights Reserved
Sign up to add The Residents to your library and receive updates
or
#152soundtrack
Content Guidelines
You may also like
You may also like
Slide 1 of 10
𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐲 ➙ 𝘱𝘰𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘺 cover
The Art Of Being Alone  cover
bored and horny  cover
play, pause, replay cover
and then, i fell in love  cover
A Dreamer's Poetry cover
My Poetry cover
ياقلب دقات الهوى لاعبتني قامت تمايل بالدلع كانه العود  cover
last ~ poetry cover
🎕 Cₒᵤₙₜᵣyₕᵤₘₐₙₛ ₓ ᵣₑₐdₑᵣ ONESHOTS cover

𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐲 ➙ 𝘱𝘰𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘺

100 parts Ongoing

MELANCHOLY | Melancholy drips from my fingertips. SOON TO BE A PUBLISHED PAPERBACK. COMING 2025! This melancholy drips from my fingertips so slowly, you begin to forget I even exist. All of me, the hard parts of flesh you could never seem to love, drips down the drain. I am waiting for the day for your fingers to unscrew the pipes, dig through debris and mess, scrape your heart against the rust, just to find me, so we can go through it all over again. Here, in the pages I find myself, in the ink that writes against my flesh, I will whisper the sadness, the heartache, and the decaying for all of the unspoken. Perhaps under this layer of melancholy, the girl I once knew still exists.    First poetry collection in the series. Original poems based off real life experiences. #12 in poetry. Cover template made by @KaleidoGraphix on Canva. 𝑴𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒚 copyright © May Garner. 2017. All Rights Reserved.