The rain was coming. Everyone thought this would be a good thing. It hadn't rained in months and the earth was dry as a bone. It wasn't a surprise that everyone thought a good rain was what was needed, but they never expected how much rain would actually arrive.
A two-inch layer of freshly fallen snow covered the yard. Stacey peeked outside. To most, it would have been a beautiful sight worthy of taking a photo to put on Instagram. For Stacey, it meant something different. The first snow of the year brought back the witches as the fairies in the yard had to seek shelter to avoid the cold.
He hid under the covers hoping that nobody would notice him there. It really didn't make much sense since it would be obvious to anyone who walked into the room there was someone hiding there, but he still held out hope. He heard footsteps coming down the hall and stop in front in front of the bedroom door. He heard the squeak of the door hinges and someone opened the bedroom door. He held his breath waiting for whoever was about to discover him, but they never did.
Barbara had been waiting at the table for twenty minutes. it had been twenty long and excruciating minutes. David had promised that he would be on time today. He never was, but he had promised this one time. She had made him repeat the promise multiple times over the last week until she'd believed his promise. Now she was paying the price.
She has seen this scene before. It had come to her in dreams many times before. She had to pinch herself to make sure it wasn't a dream again. As her fingers squeezed against her arm, she felt the pain. It was this pain that immediately woke her up.
Why do Americans have so many different types of towels? We have beach towels, hand towels, bath towels, dish towels, camping towels, quick-dry towels, and let's not forget paper towels. Would 1 type of towel work for each of these things? Let's take a beach towel. It can be used to dry your hands and body with no difficulty. A beach towel could be used to dry dishes. Just think how many dishes you could dry with one beach towel. I've used a beach towel with no adverse effects while camping. If you buy a thin beach towel it can dry quickly too. I'd probably cut up a beach towel to wipe down counters or for cleaning other items, but a full beach towel could be used too. Is having so many types of towels an extravagant luxury that Americans enjoy or is it necessary? I'd say it's overkill and we could cut down on the many types of towels that manufacturers deem necessary.
She put the pen to paper but she couldn't bring herself to actually write anything. She just stared at the blank card and wondered what words she could write that would help in even a small way. She thought of a dozen ways to begin but none seemed to do justice to the situation. There were no words that could help and she knew it.
One foot in front of the other, One more step, and then one more. Jack's only thoughts were to keep moving no matter how much his body screamed to stop and rest. He's lost almost all his energy and his entire body ached beyond belief, but he forced himself to take another step. Then another. And then one more.
It was difficult for him to admit he was wrong. He had been so certain that he was correct and the deeply held belief could never be shaken. Yet the proof that he had been incorrect stood right before his eyes. "See daddy, I told you that they are real!" his daughter excitedly proclaimed.
She tried to explain that love wasn't like pie. There wasn't a set number of slices to be given out. There wasn't less to be given to one person if you wanted to give more to another. That after a set amount was given out it would all disappear. She tried to explain this, but it fell on deaf ears.
Betty decided to write a short story and she was sure it was going to be amazing. She had already written it in her head and each time she thought about it she grinned from ear to ear knowing how wonderful it would be. She could imagine the accolades coming in and the praise she would receive for creating such a wonderful piece. She was therefore extremely frustrated when she actually sat down to write the short story and the story that was so beautiful inside her head refused to come out that way on paper.
He dropped the ball. While most people would think that this was a metaphor of some type, in Joe's case it was absolutely literal. He had hopes of reaching the Major League and that dream was now it great jeopardy. All because he had dropped the ball.
The chair sat in the corner where it had been for over 25 years. The only difference was there was someone actually sitting in it. How long had it been since someone had done that? Ten years or more he imagined. Yet there was no denying the presence in the chair now.
There was little doubt that the bridge was unsafe. All one had to do was look at it to know that with certainty. Yet Bob didn't see another option. He may have been able to work one out if he had a bit of time to think things through, but time was something he didn't have. A choice needed to be made, and it needed to be made quickly.
If you can imagine a furry humanoid seven feet tall, with the face of an intelligent gorilla and the braincase of a man, you'll have a rough idea of what they looked like -- except for their teeth. The canines would have fitted better in the face of a tiger, and showed at the corners of their wide, thin-lipped mouths, giving them an expression of ferocity.
I'm going to hire professional help tomorrow. I can't handle this anymore. She fell over the coffee table and now there is blood in her catheter. This is much more than I ever signed up to do.
Colors bounced around in her head. They mixed and threaded themselves together. Even colors that had no business being together. They were all one, yet distinctly separate at the same time. How was she going to explain this to the others?
She sat in the darkened room waiting. It was now a standoff. He had the power to put her in the room, but not the power to make her repent. It wasn't fair and no matter how long she had to endure the darkness, she wouldn't change her attitude. At three years old, Sandy's stubborn personality had already bloomed into full view.
He was an expert but not in a discipline that anyone could fully appreciate. He knew how to hold the cone just right so that the soft server ice-cream fell into it at the precise angle to form a perfect cone each and every time. It had taken years to perfect and he could now do it without even putting any thought behind it. Nobody seemed to fully understand the beauty of this accomplishment except for the new worker who watched in amazement.
She wanted rainbow hair. That's what she told the hairdresser. It should be deep rainbow colors, too. She wasn't interested in pastel rainbow hair. She wanted it deep and vibrant so there was no doubt that she had done this on purpose.
All he could think about was how it would all end. There was still a bit of uncertainty in the equation, but the basics were there for anyone to see. No matter how much he tried to see the positive, it wasn't anywhere to be seen. The end was coming and it wasn't going to be pretty.
It was that terrifying feeling you have as you tightly hold the covers over you with the knowledge that there is something hiding under your bed. You want to look, but you don't at the same time. You're frozen with fear and unable to act. That's where she found herself and she didn't know what to do next
"What is the best way to get what you want?" she asked. He looked down at the ground knowing that she wouldn't like his answer. He hesitated, knowing that the truth would only hurt. How was he going to tell her that the best way for him to get what he wanted was to leave her?
It was a scrape that he hardly noticed. Sure, there was a bit of blood but it was minor compared to most of the other cuts and bruises he acquired on his adventures. There was no way he could know that the rock that produced the cut had alien genetic material on it that was now racing through his bloodstream. He felt perfectly normal and continued his adventure with no knowledge of what was about to happen to him.
Do you think you're living an ordinary life? You are so mistaken it's difficult to even explain. The mere fact that you exist makes you extraordinary. The odds of you existing are less than winning the lottery, but here you are. Are you going to let this extraordinary opportunity pass?
It went through such rapid contortions that the little bear was forced to change his hold on it so many times he became confused in the darkness, and could not, for the life of him, tell whether he held the sheep right side up, or upside down. But that point was decided for him a moment later by the animal itself, who, with a sudden twist, jabbed its horns so hard into his lowest ribs that he gave a grunt of anger and disgust.
What if dogs were racist? Would they care about fur color….. "son, only play with other tan dogs"? Or maybe it would depend on breed, "honey, only play with other German Shepards, never poodles". Better yet it could depend on occupation. "I'm a sled dog while you're only a running companion, leave me alone". Maybe the neighborhood they live in could be the way they choose which dogs to associate with and which to shun? Size could be the determining factor, "see how tall that dog is, they are probably dumb". Luckily dogs don't discriminate. Just watch at a dog park. Big black and white dogs wag their tails and play with tiny tan dogs. A service dog chases after the same ball as the off-duty police dog. So if dogs don't discriminate then why do we?
Since they are still preserved in the rocks for us to see, they must have been formed quite recently, that is, geologically speaking. What can explain these striations and their common orientation? Did you ever hear about the Great Ice Age or the Pleistocene Epoch? Less than one million years ago, in fact, some 12,000 years ago, an ice sheet many thousands of feet thick rode over Burke Mountain in a southeastward direction. The many boulders frozen to the underside of the ice sheet tended to scratch the rocks over which they rode. The scratches or striations seen in the park rocks were caused by these attached boulders. The ice sheet also plucked and rounded Burke Mountain into the shape it possesses today.
The headphones were on. They had been utilized on purpose. She could hear her mom yelling in the background, but couldn't make out exactly what the yelling was about. That was exactly why she had put them on. She knew her mom would enter her room at any minute, and she could pretend that she hadn't heard any of the previous yelling.
No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't give her a good explanation about what had happened. It didn't even really make sense to him. All he knew was that he froze at the moment and no matter how hard he tried to react, nothing in his body allowed him to move. It was as if he had instantly become a statue and although he could see what was taking place, he couldn't move to intervene. He knew that wasn't a satisfactory explanation even though it was the truth.
It all started with the computer. Had he known what was to follow, he would have never logged on that day. But the truth was there was no way to know what was about to happen. So Dave pressed the start button, the computer booted up, the screen came alive, and everything Dave knew to be true no longer was.
She patiently waited for his number to be called. She had no desire to be there, but her mom had insisted that she go. She's resisted at first, but over time she realized it was simply easier to appease her and go. Mom tended to be that way. She would keep insisting until you wore down and did what she wanted. So, here she sat, patiently waiting for her number to be called.
It all started with a random letter. Several of those were joined forces to create a random word. The words decided to get together and form a random sentence. They decided not to stop there and it wasn't long before a random paragraph had been cobbled together. The question was whether or not they could continue the momentum long enough to create a random short story.
Waiting and watching. It was all she had done for the past weeks. When you're locked in a room with nothing but food and drink, that's about all you can do anyway. She watched as birds flew past the window bolted shut. She couldn't reach it if she wanted too, with that hole in the floor. She thought she could escape through it but three stories is a bit far down.
The tree missed the days the kids used to come by and play. It still wore the tire swing the kids had put up in its branches years ago although both the tire and the rope had seen better days. The tree had watched all the kids in the neighborhood grow up and leave, and it wondered if there would ever be a time when another child played and laughed again under its branches. That was the hope that the tree wished every day as the swing gently swung empty in the wind.
Green vines attached to the trunk of the tree had wound themselves toward the top of the canopy. Ants used the vine as their private highway, avoiding all the creases and crags of the bark, to freely move at top speed from top to bottom or bottom to top depending on their current chore. At least this was the way it was supposed to be. Something had damaged the vine overnight halfway up the tree leaving a gap in the once pristine ant highway.
It was a good idea. At least, they all thought it was a good idea at the time. Hindsight would reveal that in reality, it was an unbelievably terrible idea, but it would take another week for them to understand that. Right now, at this very moment. they all agreed that it was the perfect course of action for the current situation.
How had she been so wrong? All her instincts and intuition completely failed her for the first time in her life. She had so heavily relied on both when making decisions up until this moment and she felt a seismic shift take place in her self-confidence. If she could be so completely wrong about something so simple as this, how could she make decisions about really important things taking place in her life? She wasn't sure what she should do next.
Trees. It was something about the trees. The way they swayed with the wind in unison. The way they shaded the area around them. The sounds of their leaves in the wind and the creaks from the branches as they sway, The trees were making a statement that I just couldn't understand.
Although Scott said it didn't matter to him, he knew deep inside that it did. They had been friends as long as he could remember and not once had he had to protest that something Joe apologized for doing didn't really matter. Scott stuck to his lie and insisted again and again that everything was fine as Joe continued to apologize. Scott already knew that despite his words accepting the apologies that their friendship would never be the same.
Sometimes it's just better not to be seen. That's how Harry had always lived his life. He prided himself as being the fly on the wall and the fae that blended into the crowd. That's why he was so shocked that she noticed him.
It's always good to bring a slower friend with you on a hike. If you happen to come across bears, the whole group doesn't have to worry. Only the slowest in the group do. That was the lesson they were about to learn that day.
Dave found joy in the daily routine of life. He awoke at the same time, ate the same breakfast and drove the same commute. He worked at a job that never seemed to change and he got home at 6 pm sharp every night. It was who he had been for the last ten years and he had no idea that was all about to change.
He stepped away from the mic. This was the best take he had done so far, but something seemed missing. Then it struck him all at once. Visuals ran in front of his eyes and music rang in his ears. His eager fingers went to work in an attempt to capture his thoughts hoping the results would produce something that was at least half their glory.
She sat down with her notebook in her hand, her mind wandering to faraway places. She paused and considered all that had happened. It hadn't gone as expected. When the day began she thought it was going to be a bad one, but as she sat recalling the day's events to write them down, she had to admit, it had been a rather marvelous day.
I recently discovered I could make fudge with just chocolate chips, sweetened condensed milk, vanilla extract, and a thick pot on slow heat. I tried it with dark chocolate chunks and I tried it with semi-sweet chocolate chips. It's better with both kinds. It comes out pretty bad with just the dark chocolate. The best add-ins are crushed almonds and marshmallows -- what you get from that is Rocky Road. It takes about twenty minutes from start to fridge, and then it takes about six months to work off the twenty pounds you gain from eating it. All things in moderation, friends. All things in moderation.
It's not his fault. I know you're going to want to, but you can't blame him. He really has no idea how it happened. I kept trying to come up with excuses I could say to mom that would keep her calm when she found out what happened, but the more I tried, the more I could see none of them would work. He was going to get her wrath and there was nothing I could say to prevent it.
Twenty-five years Dana had been waiting. She tried to be patient during that time but she hadn't always managed to be as patient as she'd like. But today the opportunity had finally come. The thing she always imagined would make her the happiest person in the world was about to happen. She didn't know why at this specific time she all of a sudden felt sick inside.
Cake or pie? I can tell a lot about you by which one you pick. It may seem silly, but cake people and pie people are really different. I know which one I hope you are, but that's not for me to decide. So, what is it? Cake or pie?
Benny was tired. Not the normal every day tired from a hard day o work. The exhausted type of tired where you're surprised your body can even move. All he wanted to do was sit in front of the TV, put his feet up on the coffee table, and drink a beer. The only issue was that he had forgotten where he lived.The rain was coming. Everyone thought this would be a good thing. It hadn't rained in months and the earth was dry as a bone. It wasn't a surprise that everyone thought a good rain was what was needed, but they never expected how much rain would actually arrive.
A two-inch layer of freshly fallen snow covered the yard. Stacey peeked outside. To most, it would have been a beautiful sight worthy of taking a photo to put on Instagram. For Stacey, it meant something different. The first snow of the year brought back the witches as the fairies in the yard had to seek shelter to avoid the cold.
He hid under the covers hoping that nobody would notice him there. It really didn't make much sense since it would be obvious to anyone who walked into the room there was someone hiding there, but he still held out hope. He heard footsteps coming down the hall and stop in front in front of the bedroom door. He heard the squeak of the door hinges and someone opened the bedroom door. He held his breath waiting for whoever was about to discover him, but they never did.
Barbara had been waiting at the table for twenty minutes. it had been twenty long and excruciating minutes. David had promised that he would be on time today. He never was, but he had promised this one time. She had made him repeat the promise multiple times over the last week until she'd believed his promise. Now she was paying the price.
She has seen this scene before. It had come to her in dreams many times before. She had to pinch herself to make sure it wasn't a dream again. As her fingers squeezed against her arm, she felt the pain. It was this pain that immediately woke her up.
Why do Americans have so many different types of towels? We have beach towels, hand towels, bath towels, dish towels, camping towels, quick-dry towels, and let's not forget paper towels. Would 1 type of towel work for each of these things? Let's take a beach towel. It can be used to dry your hands and body with no difficulty. A beach towel could be used to dry dishes. Just think how many dishes you could dry with one beach towel. I've used a beach towel with no adverse effects while camping. If you buy a thin beach towel it can dry quickly too. I'd probably cut up a beach towel to wipe down counters or for cleaning other items, but a full beach towel could be used too. Is having so many types of towels an extravagant luxury that Americans enjoy or is it necessary? I'd say it's overkill and we could cut down on the many types of towels that manufacturers deem necessary.
She put the pen to paper but she couldn't bring herself to actually write anything. She just stared at the blank card and wondered what words she could write that would help in even a small way. She thought of a dozen ways to begin but none seemed to do justice to the situation. There were no words that could help and she knew it.
One foot in front of the other, One more step, and then one more. Jack's only thoughts were to keep moving no matter how much his body screamed to stop and rest. He's lost almost all his energy and his entire body ached beyond belief, but he forced himself to take another step. Then another. And then one more.
It was difficult for him to admit he was wrong. He had been so certain that he was correct and the deeply held belief could never be shaken. Yet the proof that he had been incorrect stood right before his eyes. "See daddy, I told you that they are real!" his daughter excitedly proclaimed.
She tried to explain that love wasn't like pie. There wasn't a set number of slices to be given out. There wasn't less to be given to one person if you wanted to give more to another. That after a set amount was given out it would all disappear. She tried to explain this, but it fell on deaf ears.
Betty decided to write a short story and she was sure it was going to be amazing. She had already written it in her head and each time she thought about it she grinned from ear to ear knowing how wonderful it would be. She could imagine the accolades coming in and the praise she would receive for creating such a wonderful piece. She was therefore extremely frustrated when she actually sat down to write the short story and the story that was so beautiful inside her head refused to come out that way on paper.
He dropped the ball. While most people would think that this was a metaphor of some type, in Joe's case it was absolutely literal. He had hopes of reaching the Major League and that dream was now it great jeopardy. All because he had dropped the ball.
The chair sat in the corner where it had been for over 25 years. The only difference was there was someone actually sitting in it. How long had it been since someone had done that? Ten years or more he imagined. Yet there was no denying the presence in the chair now.
There was little doubt that the bridge was unsafe. All one had to do was look at it to know that with certainty. Yet Bob didn't see another option. He may have been able to work one out if he had a bit of time to think things through, but time was something he didn't have. A choice needed to be made, and it needed to be made quickly.
If you can imagine a furry humanoid seven feet tall, with the face of an intelligent gorilla and the braincase of a man, you'll have a rough idea of what they looked like -- except for their teeth. The canines would have fitted better in the face of a tiger, and showed at the corners of their wide, thin-lipped mouths, giving them an expression of ferocity.
I'm going to hire professional help tomorrow. I can't handle this anymore. She fell over the coffee table and now there is blood in her catheter. This is much more than I ever signed up to do.
Colors bounced around in her head. They mixed and threaded themselves together. Even colors that had no business being together. They were all one, yet distinctly separate at the same time. How was she going to explain this to the others?
She sat in the darkened room waiting. It was now a standoff. He had the power to put her in the room, but not the power to make her repent. It wasn't fair and no matter how long she had to endure the darkness, she wouldn't change her attitude. At three years old, Sandy's stubborn personality had already bloomed into full view.
He was an expert but not in a discipline that anyone could fully appreciate. He knew how to hold the cone just right so that the soft server ice-cream fell into it at the precise angle to form a perfect cone each and every time. It had taken years to perfect and he could now do it without even putting any thought behind it. Nobody seemed to fully understand the beauty of this accomplishment except for the new worker who watched in amazement.
She wanted rainbow hair. That's what she told the hairdresser. It should be deep rainbow colors, too. She wasn't interested in pastel rainbow hair. She wanted it deep and vibrant so there was no doubt that she had done this on purpose.
All he could think about was how it would all end. There was still a bit of uncertainty in the equation, but the basics were there for anyone to see. No matter how much he tried to see the positive, it wasn't anywhere to be seen. The end was coming and it wasn't going to be pretty.
It was that terrifying feeling you have as you tightly hold the covers over you with the knowledge that there is something hiding under your bed. You want to look, but you don't at the same time. You're frozen with fear and unable to act. That's where she found herself and she didn't know what to do next
"What is the best way to get what you want?" she asked. He looked down at the ground knowing that she wouldn't like his answer. He hesitated, knowing that the truth would only hurt. How was he going to tell her that the best way for him to get what he wanted was to leave her?
It was a scrape that he hardly noticed. Sure, there was a bit of blood but it was minor compared to most of the other cuts and bruises he acquired on his adventures. There was no way he could know that the rock that produced the cut had alien genetic material on it that was now racing through his bloodstream. He felt perfectly normal and continued his adventure with no knowledge of what was about to happen to him.
Do you think you're living an ordinary life? You are so mistaken it's difficult to even explain. The mere fact that you exist makes you extraordinary. The odds of you existing are less than winning the lottery, but here you are. Are you going to let this extraordinary opportunity pass?
It went through such rapid contortions that the little bear was forced to change his hold on it so many times he became confused in the darkness, and could not, for the life of him, tell whether he held the sheep right side up, or upside down. But that point was decided for him a moment later by the animal itself, who, with a sudden twist, jabbed its horns so hard into his lowest ribs that he gave a grunt of anger and disgust.
What if dogs were racist? Would they care about fur color….. "son, only play with other tan dogs"? Or maybe it would depend on breed, "honey, only play with other German Shepards, never poodles". Better yet it could depend on occupation. "I'm a sled dog while you're only a running companion, leave me alone". Maybe the neighborhood they live in could be the way they choose which dogs to associate with and which to shun? Size could be the determining factor, "see how tall that dog is, they are probably dumb". Luckily dogs don't discriminate. Just watch at a dog park. Big black and white dogs wag their tails and play with tiny tan dogs. A service dog chases after the same ball as the off-duty police dog. So if dogs don't discriminate then why do we?
Since they are still preserved in the rocks for us to see, they must have been formed quite recently, that is, geologically speaking. What can explain these striations and their common orientation? Did you ever hear about the Great Ice Age or the Pleistocene Epoch? Less than one million years ago, in fact, some 12,000 years ago, an ice sheet many thousands of feet thick rode over Burke Mountain in a southeastward direction. The many boulders frozen to the underside of the ice sheet tended to scratch the rocks over which they rode. The scratches or striations seen in the park rocks were caused by these attached boulders. The ice sheet also plucked and rounded Burke Mountain into the shape it possesses today.
The headphones were on. They had been utilized on purpose. She could hear her mom yelling in the background, but couldn't make out exactly what the yelling was about. That was exactly why she had put them on. She knew her mom would enter her room at any minute, and she could pretend that she hadn't heard any of the previous yelling.
No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't give her a good explanation about what had happened. It didn't even really make sense to him. All he knew was that he froze at the moment and no matter how hard he tried to react, nothing in his body allowed him to move. It was as if he had instantly become a statue and although he could see what was taking place, he couldn't move to intervene. He knew that wasn't a satisfactory explanation even though it was the truth.
It all started with the computer. Had he known what was to follow, he would have never logged on that day. But the truth was there was no way to know what was about to happen. So Dave pressed the start button, the computer booted up, the screen came alive, and everything Dave knew to be true no longer was.
She patiently waited for his number to be called. She had no desire to be there, but her mom had insisted that she go. She's resisted at first, but over time she realized it was simply easier to appease her and go. Mom tended to be that way. She would keep insisting until you wore down and did what she wanted. So, here she sat, patiently waiting for her number to be called.
It all started with a random letter. Several of those were joined forces to create a random word. The words decided to get together and form a random sentence. They decided not to stop there and it wasn't long before a random paragraph had been cobbled together. The question was whether or not they could continue the momentum long enough to create a random short story.
Waiting and watching. It was all she had done for the past weeks. When you're locked in a room with nothing but food and drink, that's about all you can do anyway. She watched as birds flew past the window bolted shut. She couldn't reach it if she wanted too, with that hole in the floor. She thought she could escape through it but three stories is a bit far down.
The tree missed the days the kids used to come by and play. It still wore the tire swing the kids had put up in its branches years ago although both the tire and the rope had seen better days. The tree had watched all the kids in the neighborhood grow up and leave, and it wondered if there would ever be a time when another child played and laughed again under its branches. That was the hope that the tree wished every day as the swing gently swung empty in the wind.
Green vines attached to the trunk of the tree had wound themselves toward the top of the canopy. Ants used the vine as their private highway, avoiding all the creases and crags of the bark, to freely move at top speed from top to bottom or bottom to top depending on their current chore. At least this was the way it was supposed to be. Something had damaged the vine overnight halfway up the tree leaving a gap in the once pristine ant highway.
It was a good idea. At least, they all thought it was a good idea at the time. Hindsight would reveal that in reality, it was an unbelievably terrible idea, but it would take another week for them to understand that. Right now, at this very moment. they all agreed that it was the perfect course of action for the current situation.
How had she been so wrong? All her instincts and intuition completely failed her for the first time in her life. She had so heavily relied on both when making decisions up until this moment and she felt a seismic shift take place in her self-confidence. If she could be so completely wrong about something so simple as this, how could she make decisions about really important things taking place in her life? She wasn't sure what she should do next.
Trees. It was something about the trees. The way they swayed with the wind in unison. The way they shaded the area around them. The sounds of their leaves in the wind and the creaks from the branches as they sway, The trees were making a statement that I just couldn't understand.
Although Scott said it didn't matter to him, he knew deep inside that it did. They had been friends as long as he could remember and not once had he had to protest that something Joe apologized for doing didn't really matter. Scott stuck to his lie and insisted again and again that everything was fine as Joe continued to apologize. Scott already knew that despite his words accepting the apologies that their friendship would never be the same.
Sometimes it's just better not to be seen. That's how Harry had always lived his life. He prided himself as being the fly on the wall and the fae that blended into the crowd. That's why he was so shocked that she noticed him.
It's always good to bring a slower friend with you on a hike. If you happen to come across bears, the whole group doesn't have to worry. Only the slowest in the group do. That was the lesson they were about to learn that day.
Dave found joy in the daily routine of life. He awoke at the same time, ate the same breakfast and drove the same commute. He worked at a job that never seemed to change and he got home at 6 pm sharp every night. It was who he had been for the last ten years and he had no idea that was all about to change.
He stepped away from the mic. This was the best take he had done so far, but something seemed missing. Then it struck him all at once. Visuals ran in front of his eyes and music rang in his ears. His eager fingers went to work in an attempt to capture his thoughts hoping the results would produce something that was at least half their glory.
She sat down with her notebook in her hand, her mind wandering to faraway places. She paused and considered all that had happened. It hadn't gone as expected. When the day began she thought it was going to be a bad one, but as she sat recalling the day's events to write them down, she had to admit, it had been a rather marvelous day.
I recently discovered I could make fudge with just chocolate chips, sweetened condensed milk, vanilla extract, and a thick pot on slow heat. I tried it with dark chocolate chunks and I tried it with semi-sweet chocolate chips. It's better with both kinds. It comes out pretty bad with just the dark chocolate. The best add-ins are crushed almonds and marshmallows -- what you get from that is Rocky Road. It takes about twenty minutes from start to fridge, and then it takes about six months to work off the twenty pounds you gain from eating it. All things in moderation, friends. All things in moderation.
It's not his fault. I know you're going to want to, but you can't blame him. He really has no idea how it happened. I kept trying to come up with excuses I could say to mom that would keep her calm when she found out what happened, but the more I tried, the more I could see none of them would work. He was going to get her wrath and there was nothing I could say to prevent it.
Twenty-five years Dana had been waiting. She tried to be patient during that time but she hadn't always managed to be as patient as she'd like. But today the opportunity had finally come. The thing she always imagined would make her the happiest person in the world was about to happen. She didn't know why at this specific time she all of a sudden felt sick inside.
Cake or pie? I can tell a lot about you by which one you pick. It may seem silly, but cake people and pie people are really different. I know which one I hope you are, but that's not for me to decide. So, what is it? Cake or pie?
Benny was tired. Not the normal every day tired from a hard day o work. The exhausted type of tired where you're surprised your body can even move. All he wanted to do was sit in front of the TV, put his feet up on the coffee table, and drink a beer. The only issue was that he had forgotten where he lived.The rain was coming. Everyone thought this would be a good thing. It hadn't rained in months and the earth was dry as a bone. It wasn't a surprise that everyone thought a good rain was what was needed, but they never expected how much rain would actually arrive.
A two-inch layer of freshly fallen snow covered the yard. Stacey peeked outside. To most, it would have been a beautiful sight worthy of taking a photo to put on Instagram. For Stacey, it meant something different. The first snow of the year brought back the witches as the fairies in the yard had to seek shelter to avoid the cold.
He hid under the covers hoping that nobody would notice him there. It really didn't make much sense since it would be obvious to anyone who walked into the room there was someone hiding there, but he still held out hope. He heard footsteps coming down the hall and stop in front in front of the bedroom door. He heard the squeak of the door hinges and someone opened the bedroom door. He held his breath waiting for whoever was about to discover him, but they never did.
Barbara had been waiting at the table for twenty minutes. it had been twenty long and excruciating minutes. David had promised that he would be on time today. He never was, but he had promised this one time. She had made him repeat the promise multiple times over the last week until she'd believed his promise. Now she was paying the price.
She has seen this scene before. It had come to her in dreams many times before. She had to pinch herself to make sure it wasn't a dream again. As her fingers squeezed against her arm, she felt the pain. It was this pain that immediately woke her up.
Why do Americans have so many different types of towels? We have beach towels, hand towels, bath towels, dish towels, camping towels, quick-dry towels, and let's not forget paper towels. Would 1 type of towel work for each of these things? Let's take a beach towel. It can be used to dry your hands and body with no difficulty. A beach towel could be used to dry dishes. Just think how many dishes you could dry with one beach towel. I've used a beach towel with no adverse effects while camping. If you buy a thin beach towel it can dry quickly too. I'd probably cut up a beach towel to wipe down counters or for cleaning other items, but a full beach towel could be used too. Is having so many types of towels an extravagant luxury that Americans enjoy or is it necessary? I'd say it's overkill and we could cut down on the many types of towels that manufacturers deem necessary.
She put the pen to paper but she couldn't bring herself to actually write anything. She just stared at the blank card and wondered what words she could write that would help in even a small way. She thought of a dozen ways to begin but none seemed to do justice to the situation. There were no words that could help and she knew it.
One foot in front of the other, One more step, and then one more. Jack's only thoughts were to keep moving no matter how much his body screamed to stop and rest. He's lost almost all his energy and his entire body ached beyond belief, but he forced himself to take another step. Then another. And then one more.
It was difficult for him to admit he was wrong. He had been so certain that he was correct and the deeply held belief could never be shaken. Yet the proof that he had been incorrect stood right before his eyes. "See daddy, I told you that they are real!" his daughter excitedly proclaimed.
She tried to explain that love wasn't like pie. There wasn't a set number of slices to be given out. There wasn't less to be given to one person if you wanted to give more to another. That after a set amount was given out it would all disappear. She tried to explain this, but it fell on deaf ears.
Betty decided to write a short story and she was sure it was going to be amazing. She had already written it in her head and each time she thought about it she grinned from ear to ear knowing how wonderful it would be. She could imagine the accolades coming in and the praise she would receive for creating such a wonderful piece. She was therefore extremely frustrated when she actually sat down to write the short story and the story that was so beautiful inside her head refused to come out that way on paper.
He dropped the ball. While most people would think that this was a metaphor of some type, in Joe's case it was absolutely literal. He had hopes of reaching the Major League and that dream was now it great jeopardy. All because he had dropped the ball.
The chair sat in the corner where it had been for over 25 years. The only difference was there was someone actually sitting in it. How long had it been since someone had done that? Ten years or more he imagined. Yet there was no denying the presence in the chair now.
There was little doubt that the bridge was unsafe. All one had to do was look at it to know that with certainty. Yet Bob didn't see another option. He may have been able to work one out if he had a bit of time to think things through, but time was something he didn't have. A choice needed to be made, and it needed to be made quickly.
If you can imagine a furry humanoid seven feet tall, with the face of an intelligent gorilla and the braincase of a man, you'll have a rough idea of what they looked like -- except for their teeth. The canines would have fitted better in the face of a tiger, and showed at the corners of their wide, thin-lipped mouths, giving them an expression of ferocity.
I'm going to hire professional help tomorrow. I can't handle this anymore. She fell over the coffee table and now there is blood in her catheter. This is much more than I ever signed up to do.
Colors bounced around in her head. They mixed and threaded themselves together. Even colors that had no business being together. They were all one, yet distinctly separate at the same time. How was she going to explain this to the others?
She sat in the darkened room waiting. It was now a standoff. He had the power to put her in the room, but not the power to make her repent. It wasn't fair and no matter how long she had to endure the darkness, she wouldn't change her attitude. At three years old, Sandy's stubborn personality had already bloomed into full view.
He was an expert but not in a discipline that anyone could fully appreciate. He knew how to hold the cone just right so that the soft server ice-cream fell into it at the precise angle to form a perfect cone each and every time. It had taken years to perfect and he could now do it without even putting any thought behind it. Nobody seemed to fully understand the beauty of this accomplishment except for the new worker who watched in amazement.
She wanted rainbow hair. That's what she told the hairdresser. It should be deep rainbow colors, too. She wasn't interested in pastel rainbow hair. She wanted it deep and vibrant so there was no doubt that she had done this on purpose.
All he could think about was how it would all end. There was still a bit of uncertainty in the equation, but the basics were there for anyone to see. No matter how much he tried to see the positive, it wasn't anywhere to be seen. The end was coming and it wasn't going to be pretty.
It was that terrifying feeling you have as you tightly hold the covers over you with the knowledge that there is something hiding under your bed. You want to look, but you don't at the same time. You're frozen with fear and unable to act. That's where she found herself and she didn't know what to do next
"What is the best way to get what you want?" she asked. He looked down at the ground knowing that she wouldn't like his answer. He hesitated, knowing that the truth would only hurt. How was he going to tell her that the best way for him to get what he wanted was to leave her?
It was a scrape that he hardly noticed. Sure, there was a bit of blood but it was minor compared to most of the other cuts and bruises he acquired on his adventures. There was no way he could know that the rock that produced the cut had alien genetic material on it that was now racing through his bloodstream. He felt perfectly normal and continued his adventure with no knowledge of what was about to happen to him.
Do you think you're living an ordinary life? You are so mistaken it's difficult to even explain. The mere fact that you exist makes you extraordinary. The odds of you existing are less than winning the lottery, but here you are. Are you going to let this extraordinary opportunity pass?
It went through such rapid contortions that the little bear was forced to change his hold on it so many times he became confused in the darkness, and could not, for the life of him, tell whether he held the sheep right side up, or upside down. But that point was decided for him a moment later by the animal itself, who, with a sudden twist, jabbed its horns so hard into his lowest ribs that he gave a grunt of anger and disgust.
What if dogs were racist? Would they care about fur color….. "son, only play with other tan dogs"? Or maybe it would depend on breed, "honey, only play with other German Shepards, never poodles". Better yet it could depend on occupation. "I'm a sled dog while you're only a running companion, leave me alone". Maybe the neighborhood they live in could be the way they choose which dogs to associate with and which to shun? Size could be the determining factor, "see how tall that dog is, they are probably dumb". Luckily dogs don't discriminate. Just watch at a dog park. Big black and white dogs wag their tails and play with tiny tan dogs. A service dog chases after the same ball as the off-duty police dog. So if dogs don't discriminate then why do we?
Since they are still preserved in the rocks for us to see, they must have been formed quite recently, that is, geologically speaking. What can explain these striations and their common orientation? Did you ever hear about the Great Ice Age or the Pleistocene Epoch? Less than one million years ago, in fact, some 12,000 years ago, an ice sheet many thousands of feet thick rode over Burke Mountain in a southeastward direction. The many boulders frozen to the underside of the ice sheet tended to scratch the rocks over which they rode. The scratches or striations seen in the park rocks were caused by these attached boulders. The ice sheet also plucked and rounded Burke Mountain into the shape it possesses today.
The headphones were on. They had been utilized on purpose. She could hear her mom yelling in the background, but couldn't make out exactly what the yelling was about. That was exactly why she had put them on. She knew her mom would enter her room at any minute, and she could pretend that she hadn't heard any of the previous yelling.
No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't give her a good explanation about what had happened. It didn't even really make sense to him. All he knew was that he froze at the moment and no matter how hard he tried to react, nothing in his body allowed him to move. It was as if he had instantly become a statue and although he could see what was taking place, he couldn't move to intervene. He knew that wasn't a satisfactory explanation even though it was the truth.
It all started with the computer. Had he known what was to follow, he would have never logged on that day. But the truth was there was no way to know what was about to happen. So Dave pressed the start button, the computer booted up, the screen came alive, and everything Dave knew to be true no longer was.
She patiently waited for his number to be called. She had no desire to be there, but her mom had insisted that she go. She's resisted at first, but over time she realized it was simply easier to appease her and go. Mom tended to be that way. She would keep insisting until you wore down and did what she wanted. So, here she sat, patiently waiting for her number to be called.
It all started with a random letter. Several of those were joined forces to create a random word. The words decided to get together and form a random sentence. They decided not to stop there and it wasn't long before a random paragraph had been cobbled together. The question was whether or not they could continue the momentum long enough to create a random short story.
Waiting and watching. It was all she had done for the past weeks. When you're locked in a room with nothing but food and drink, that's about all you can do anyway. She watched as birds flew past the window bolted shut. She couldn't reach it if she wanted too, with that hole in the floor. She thought she could escape through it but three stories is a bit far down.
The tree missed the days the kids used to come by and play. It still wore the tire swing the kids had put up in its branches years ago although both the tire and the rope had seen better days. The tree had watched all the kids in the neighborhood grow up and leave, and it wondered if there would ever be a time when another child played and laughed again under its branches. That was the hope that the tree wished every day as the swing gently swung empty in the wind.
Green vines attached to the trunk of the tree had wound themselves toward the top of the canopy. Ants used the vine as their private highway, avoiding all the creases and crags of the bark, to freely move at top speed from top to bottom or bottom to top depending on their current chore. At least this was the way it was supposed to be. Something had damaged the vine overnight halfway up the tree leaving a gap in the once pristine ant highway.
It was a good idea. At least, they all thought it was a good idea at the time. Hindsight would reveal that in reality, it was an unbelievably terrible idea, but it would take another week for them to understand that. Right now, at this very moment. they all agreed that it was the perfect course of action for the current situation.
How had she been so wrong? All her instincts and intuition completely failed her for the first time in her life. She had so heavily relied on both when making decisions up until this moment and she felt a seismic shift take place in her self-confidence. If she could be so completely wrong about something so simple as this, how could she make decisions about really important things taking place in her life? She wasn't sure what she should do next.
Trees. It was something about the trees. The way they swayed with the wind in unison. The way they shaded the area around them. The sounds of their leaves in the wind and the creaks from the branches as they sway, The trees were making a statement that I just couldn't understand.
Although Scott said it didn't matter to him, he knew deep inside that it did. They had been friends as long as he could remember and not once had he had to protest that something Joe apologized for doing didn't really matter. Scott stuck to his lie and insisted again and again that everything was fine as Joe continued to apologize. Scott already knew that despite his words accepting the apologies that their friendship would never be the same.
Sometimes it's just better not to be seen. That's how Harry had always lived his life. He prided himself as being the fly on the wall and the fae that blended into the crowd. That's why he was so shocked that she noticed him.
It's always good to bring a slower friend with you on a hike. If you happen to come across bears, the whole group doesn't have to worry. Only the slowest in the group do. That was the lesson they were about to learn that day.
Dave found joy in the daily routine of life. He awoke at the same time, ate the same breakfast and drove the same commute. He worked at a job that never seemed to change and he got home at 6 pm sharp every night. It was who he had been for the last ten years and he had no idea that was all about to change.
He stepped away from the mic. This was the best take he had done so far, but something seemed missing. Then it struck him all at once. Visuals ran in front of his eyes and music rang in his ears. His eager fingers went to work in an attempt to capture his thoughts hoping the results would produce something that was at least half their glory.
She sat down with her notebook in her hand, her mind wandering to faraway places. She paused and considered all that had happened. It hadn't gone as expected. When the day began she thought it was going to be a bad one, but as she sat recalling the day's events to write them down, she had to admit, it had been a rather marvelous day.
I recently discovered I could make fudge with just chocolate chips, sweetened condensed milk, vanilla extract, and a thick pot on slow heat. I tried it with dark chocolate chunks and I tried it with semi-sweet chocolate chips. It's better with both kinds. It comes out pretty bad with just the dark chocolate. The best add-ins are crushed almonds and marshmallows -- what you get from that is Rocky Road. It takes about twenty minutes from start to fridge, and then it takes about six months to work off the twenty pounds you gain from eating it. All things in moderation, friends. All things in moderation.
It's not his fault. I know you're going to want to, but you can't blame him. He really has no idea how it happened. I kept trying to come up with excuses I could say to mom that would keep her calm when she found out what happened, but the more I tried, the more I could see none of them would work. He was going to get her wrath and there was nothing I could say to prevent it.
Twenty-five years Dana had been waiting. She tried to be patient during that time but she hadn't always managed to be as patient as she'd like. But today the opportunity had finally come. The thing she always imagined would make her the happiest person in the world was about to happen. She didn't know why at this specific time she all of a sudden felt sick inside.
Cake or pie? I can tell a lot about you by which one you pick. It may seem silly, but cake people and pie people are really different. I know which one I hope you are, but that's not for me to decide. So, what is it? Cake or pie?
Benny was tired. Not the normal every day tired from a hard day o work. The exhausted type of tired where you're surprised your body can even move. All he wanted to do was sit in front of the TV, put his feet up on the coffee table, and drink a beer. The only issue was that he had forgotten where he lived.The rain was coming. Everyone thought this would be a good thing. It hadn't rained in months and the earth was dry as a bone. It wasn't a surprise that everyone thought a good rain was what was needed, but they never expected how much rain would actually arrive.
A two-inch layer of freshly fallen snow covered the yard. Stacey peeked outside. To most, it would have been a beautiful sight worthy of taking a photo to put on Instagram. For Stacey, it meant something different. The first snow of the year brought back the witches as the fairies in the yard had to seek shelter to avoid the cold.
He hid under the covers hoping that nobody would notice him there. It really didn't make much sense since it would be obvious to anyone who walked into the room there was someone hiding there, but he still held out hope. He heard footsteps coming down the hall and stop in front in front of the bedroom door. He heard the squeak of the door hinges and someone opened the bedroom door. He held his breath waiting for whoever was about to discover him, but they never did.
Barbara had been waiting at the table for twenty minutes. it had been twenty long and excruciating minutes. David had promised that he would be on time today. He never was, but he had promised this one time. She had made him repeat the promise multiple times over the last week until she'd believed his promise. Now she was paying the price.
She has seen this scene before. It had come to her in dreams many times before. She had to pinch herself to make sure it wasn't a dream again. As her fingers squeezed against her arm, she felt the pain. It was this pain that immediately woke her up.
Why do Americans have so many different types of towels? We have beach towels, hand towels, bath towels, dish towels, camping towels, quick-dry towels, and let's not forget paper towels. Would 1 type of towel work for each of these things? Let's take a beach towel. It can be used to dry your hands and body with no difficulty. A beach towel could be used to dry dishes. Just think how many dishes you could dry with one beach towel. I've used a beach towel with no adverse effects while camping. If you buy a thin beach towel it can dry quickly too. I'd probably cut up a beach towel to wipe down counters or for cleaning other items, but a full beach towel could be used too. Is having so many types of towels an extravagant luxury that Americans enjoy or is it necessary? I'd say it's overkill and we could cut down on the many types of towels that manufacturers deem necessary.
She put the pen to paper but she couldn't bring herself to actually write anything. She just stared at the blank card and wondered what words she could write that would help in even a small way. She thought of a dozen ways to begin but none seemed to do justice to the situation. There were no words that could help and she knew it.
One foot in front of the other, One more step, and then one more. Jack's only thoughts were to keep moving no matter how much his body screamed to stop and rest. He's lost almost all his energy and his entire body ached beyond belief, but he forced himself to take another step. Then another. And then one more.
It was difficult for him to admit he was wrong. He had been so certain that he was correct and the deeply held belief could never be shaken. Yet the proof that he had been incorrect stood right before his eyes. "See daddy, I told you that they are real!" his daughter excitedly proclaimed.
She tried to explain that love wasn't like pie. There wasn't a set number of slices to be given out. There wasn't less to be given to one person if you wanted to give more to another. That after a set amount was given out it would all disappear. She tried to explain this, but it fell on deaf ears.
Betty decided to write a short story and she was sure it was going to be amazing. She had already written it in her head and each time she thought about it she grinned from ear to ear knowing how wonderful it would be. She could imagine the accolades coming in and the praise she would receive for creating such a wonderful piece. She was therefore extremely frustrated when she actually sat down to write the short story and the story that was so beautiful inside her head refused to come out that way on paper.
He dropped the ball. While most people would think that this was a metaphor of some type, in Joe's case it was absolutely literal. He had hopes of reaching the Major League and that dream was now it great jeopardy. All because he had dropped the ball.
The chair sat in the corner where it had been for over 25 years. The only difference was there was someone actually sitting in it. How long had it been since someone had done that? Ten years or more he imagined. Yet there was no denying the presence in the chair now.
There was little doubt that the bridge was unsafe. All one had to do was look at it to know that with certainty. Yet Bob didn't see another option. He may have been able to work one out if he had a bit of time to think things through, but time was something he didn't have. A choice needed to be made, and it needed to be made quickly.
If you can imagine a furry humanoid seven feet tall, with the face of an intelligent gorilla and the braincase of a man, you'll have a rough idea of what they looked like -- except for their teeth. The canines would have fitted better in the face of a tiger, and showed at the corners of their wide, thin-lipped mouths, giving them an expression of ferocity.
I'm going to hire professional help tomorrow. I can't handle this anymore. She fell over the coffee table and now there is blood in her catheter. This is much more than I ever signed up to do.
Colors bounced around in her head. They mixed and threaded themselves together. Even colors that had no business being together. They were all one, yet distinctly separate at the same time. How was she going to explain this to the others?
She sat in the darkened room waiting. It was now a standoff. He had the power to put her in the room, but not the power to make her repent. It wasn't fair and no matter how long she had to endure the darkness, she wouldn't change her attitude. At three years old, Sandy's stubborn personality had already bloomed into full view.
He was an expert but not in a discipline that anyone could fully appreciate. He knew how to hold the cone just right so that the soft server ice-cream fell into it at the precise angle to form a perfect cone each and every time. It had taken years to perfect and he could now do it without even putting any thought behind it. Nobody seemed to fully understand the beauty of this accomplishment except for the new worker who watched in amazement.
She wanted rainbow hair. That's what she told the hairdresser. It should be deep rainbow colors, too. She wasn't interested in pastel rainbow hair. She wanted it deep and vibrant so there was no doubt that she had done this on purpose.
All he could think about was how it would all end. There was still a bit of uncertainty in the equation, but the basics were there for anyone to see. No matter how much he tried to see the positive, it wasn't anywhere to be seen. The end was coming and it wasn't going to be pretty.
It was that terrifying feeling you have as you tightly hold the covers over you with the knowledge that there is something hiding under your bed. You want to look, but you don't at the same time. You're frozen with fear and unable to act. That's where she found herself and she didn't know what to do next
"What is the best way to get what you want?" she asked. He looked down at the ground knowing that she wouldn't like his answer. He hesitated, knowing that the truth would only hurt. How was he going to tell her that the best way for him to get what he wanted was to leave her?
It was a scrape that he hardly noticed. Sure, there was a bit of blood but it was minor compared to most of the other cuts and bruises he acquired on his adventures. There was no way he could know that the rock that produced the cut had alien genetic material on it that was now racing through his bloodstream. He felt perfectly normal and continued his adventure with no knowledge of what was about to happen to him.
Do you think you're living an ordinary life? You are so mistaken it's difficult to even explain. The mere fact that you exist makes you extraordinary. The odds of you existing are less than winning the lottery, but here you are. Are you going to let this extraordinary opportunity pass?
It went through such rapid contortions that the little bear was forced to change his hold on it so many times he became confused in the darkness, and could not, for the life of him, tell whether he held the sheep right side up, or upside down. But that point was decided for him a moment later by the animal itself, who, with a sudden twist, jabbed its horns so hard into his lowest ribs that he gave a grunt of anger and disgust.
What if dogs were racist? Would they care about fur color….. "son, only play with other tan dogs"? Or maybe it would depend on breed, "honey, only play with other German Shepards, never poodles". Better yet it could depend on occupation. "I'm a sled dog while you're only a running companion, leave me alone". Maybe the neighborhood they live in could be the way they choose which dogs to associate with and which to shun? Size could be the determining factor, "see how tall that dog is, they are probably dumb". Luckily dogs don't discriminate. Just watch at a dog park. Big black and white dogs wag their tails and play with tiny tan dogs. A service dog chases after the same ball as the off-duty police dog. So if dogs don't discriminate then why do we?
Since they are still preserved in the rocks for us to see, they must have been formed quite recently, that is, geologically speaking. What can explain these striations and their common orientation? Did you ever hear about the Great Ice Age or the Pleistocene Epoch? Less than one million years ago, in fact, some 12,000 years ago, an ice sheet many thousands of feet thick rode over Burke Mountain in a southeastward direction. The many boulders frozen to the underside of the ice sheet tended to scratch the rocks over which they rode. The scratches or striations seen in the park rocks were caused by these attached boulders. The ice sheet also plucked and rounded Burke Mountain into the shape it possesses today.
The headphones were on. They had been utilized on purpose. She could hear her mom yelling in the background, but couldn't make out exactly what the yelling was about. That was exactly why she had put them on. She knew her mom would enter her room at any minute, and she could pretend that she hadn't heard any of the previous yelling.
No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't give her a good explanation about what had happened. It didn't even really make sense to him. All he knew was that he froze at the moment and no matter how hard he tried to react, nothing in his body allowed him to move. It was as if he had instantly become a statue and although he could see what was taking place, he couldn't move to intervene. He knew that wasn't a satisfactory explanation even though it was the truth.
It all started with the computer. Had he known what was to follow, he would have never logged on that day. But the truth was there was no way to know what was about to happen. So Dave pressed the start button, the computer booted up, the screen came alive, and everything Dave knew to be true no longer was.
She patiently waited for his number to be called. She had no desire to be there, but her mom had insisted that she go. She's resisted at first, but over time she realized it was simply easier to appease her and go. Mom tended to be that way. She would keep insisting until you wore down and did what she wanted. So, here she sat, patiently waiting for her number to be called.
It all started with a random letter. Several of those were joined forces to create a random word. The words decided to get together and form a random sentence. They decided not to stop there and it wasn't long before a random paragraph had been cobbled together. The question was whether or not they could continue the momentum long enough to create a random short story.
Waiting and watching. It was all she had done for the past weeks. When you're locked in a room with nothing but food and drink, that's about all you can do anyway. She watched as birds flew past the window bolted shut. She couldn't reach it if she wanted too, with that hole in the floor. She thought she could escape through it but three stories is a bit far down.
The tree missed the days the kids used to come by and play. It still wore the tire swing the kids had put up in its branches years ago although both the tire and the rope had seen better days. The tree had watched all the kids in the neighborhood grow up and leave, and it wondered if there would ever be a time when another child played and laughed again under its branches. That was the hope that the tree wished every day as the swing gently swung empty in the wind.
Green vines attached to the trunk of the tree had wound themselves toward the top of the canopy. Ants used the vine as their private highway, avoiding all the creases and crags of the bark, to freely move at top speed from top to bottom or bottom to top depending on their current chore. At least this was the way it was supposed to be. Something had damaged the vine overnight halfway up the tree leaving a gap in the once pristine ant highway.
It was a good idea. At least, they all thought it was a good idea at the time. Hindsight would reveal that in reality, it was an unbelievably terrible idea, but it would take another week for them to understand that. Right now, at this very moment. they all agreed that it was the perfect course of action for the current situation.
How had she been so wrong? All her instincts and intuition completely failed her for the first time in her life. She had so heavily relied on both when making decisions up until this moment and she felt a seismic shift take place in her self-confidence. If she could be so completely wrong about something so simple as this, how could she make decisions about really important things taking place in her life? She wasn't sure what she should do next.
Trees. It was something about the trees. The way they swayed with the wind in unison. The way they shaded the area around them. The sounds of their leaves in the wind and the creaks from the branches as they sway, The trees were making a statement that I just couldn't understand.
Although Scott said it didn't matter to him, he knew deep inside that it did. They had been friends as long as he could remember and not once had he had to protest that something Joe apologized for doing didn't really matter. Scott stuck to his lie and insisted again and again that everything was fine as Joe continued to apologize. Scott already knew that despite his words accepting the apologies that their friendship would never be the same.
Sometimes it's just better not to be seen. That's how Harry had always lived his life. He prided himself as being the fly on the wall and the fae that blended into the crowd. That's why he was so shocked that she noticed him.
It's always good to bring a slower friend with you on a hike. If you happen to come across bears, the whole group doesn't have to worry. Only the slowest in the group do. That was the lesson they were about to learn that day.
Dave found joy in the daily routine of life. He awoke at the same time, ate the same breakfast and drove the same commute. He worked at a job that never seemed to change and he got home at 6 pm sharp every night. It was who he had been for the last ten years and he had no idea that was all about to change.
He stepped away from the mic. This was the best take he had done so far, but something seemed missing. Then it struck him all at once. Visuals ran in front of his eyes and music rang in his ears. His eager fingers went to work in an attempt to capture his thoughts hoping the results would produce something that was at least half their glory.
She sat down with her notebook in her hand, her mind wandering to faraway places. She paused and considered all that had happened. It hadn't gone as expected. When the day began she thought it was going to be a bad one, but as she sat recalling the day's events to write them down, she had to admit, it had been a rather marvelous day.
I recently discovered I could make fudge with just chocolate chips, sweetened condensed milk, vanilla extract, and a thick pot on slow heat. I tried it with dark chocolate chunks and I tried it with semi-sweet chocolate chips. It's better with both kinds. It comes out pretty bad with just the dark chocolate. The best add-ins are crushed almonds and marshmallows -- what you get from that is Rocky Road. It takes about twenty minutes from start to fridge, and then it takes about six months to work off the twenty pounds you gain from eating it. All things in moderation, friends. All things in moderation.
It's not his fault. I know you're going to want to, but you can't blame him. He really has no idea how it happened. I kept trying to come up with excuses I could say to mom that would keep her calm when she found out what happened, but the more I tried, the more I could see none of them would work. He was going to get her wrath and there was nothing I could say to prevent it.
Twenty-five years Dana had been waiting. She tried to be patient during that time but she hadn't always managed to be as patient as she'd like. But today the opportunity had finally come. The thing she always imagined would make her the happiest person in the world was about to happen. She didn't know why at this specific time she all of a sudden felt sick inside.
Cake or pie? I can tell a lot about you by which one you pick. It may seem silly, but cake people and pie people are really different. I know which one I hope you are, but that's not for me to decide. So, what is it? Cake or pie?
Benny was tired. Not the normal every day tired from a hard day o work. The exhausted type of tired where you're surprised your body can even move. All he wanted to do was sit in front of the TV, put his feet up on the coffee table, and drink a beer. The only issue was that he had forgotten where he lived.The rain was coming. Everyone thought this would be a good thing. It hadn't rained in months and the earth was dry as a bone. It wasn't a surprise that everyone thought a good rain was what was needed, but they never expected how much rain would actually arrive.
A two-inch layer of freshly fallen snow covered the yard. Stacey peeked outside. To most, it would have been a beautiful sight worthy of taking a photo to put on Instagram. For Stacey, it meant something different. The first snow of the year brought back the witches as the fairies in the yard had to seek shelter to avoid the cold.
He hid under the covers hoping that nobody would notice him there. It really didn't make much sense since it would be obvious to anyone who walked into the room there was someone hiding there, but he still held out hope. He heard footsteps coming down the hall and stop in front in front of the bedroom door. He heard the squeak of the door hinges and someone opened the bedroom door. He held his breath waiting for whoever was about to discover him, but they never did.
Barbara had been waiting at the table for twenty minutes. it had been twenty long and excruciating minutes. David had promised that he would be on time today. He never was, but he had promised this one time. She had made him repeat the promise multiple times over the last week until she'd believed his promise. Now she was paying the price.
She has seen this scene before. It had come to her in dreams many times before. She had to pinch herself to make sure it wasn't a dream again. As her fingers squeezed against her arm, she felt the pain. It was this pain that immediately woke her up.
Why do Americans have so many different types of towels? We have beach towels, hand towels, bath towels, dish towels, camping towels, quick-dry towels, and let's not forget paper towels. Would 1 type of towel work for each of these things? Let's take a beach towel. It can be used to dry your hands and body with no difficulty. A beach towel could be used to dry dishes. Just think how many dishes you could dry with one beach towel. I've used a beach towel with no adverse effects while camping. If you buy a thin beach towel it can dry quickly too. I'd probably cut up a beach towel to wipe down counters or for cleaning other items, but a full beach towel could be used too. Is having so many types of towels an extravagant luxury that Americans enjoy or is it necessary? I'd say it's overkill and we could cut down on the many types of towels that manufacturers deem necessary.
She put the pen to paper but she couldn't bring herself to actually write anything. She just stared at the blank card and wondered what words she could write that would help in even a small way. She thought of a dozen ways to begin but none seemed to do justice to the situation. There were no words that could help and she knew it.
One foot in front of the other, One more step, and then one more. Jack's only thoughts were to keep moving no matter how much his body screamed to stop and rest. He's lost almost all his energy and his entire body ached beyond belief, but he forced himself to take another step. Then another. And then one more.
It was difficult for him to admit he was wrong. He had been so certain that he was correct and the deeply held belief could never be shaken. Yet the proof that he had been incorrect stood right before his eyes. "See daddy, I told you that they are real!" his daughter excitedly proclaimed.
She tried to explain that love wasn't like pie. There wasn't a set number of slices to be given out. There wasn't less to be given to one person if you wanted to give more to another. That after a set amount was given out it would all disappear. She tried to explain this, but it fell on deaf ears.
Betty decided to write a short story and she was sure it was going to be amazing. She had already written it in her head and each time she thought about it she grinned from ear to ear knowing how wonderful it would be. She could imagine the accolades coming in and the praise she would receive for creating such a wonderful piece. She was therefore extremely frustrated when she actually sat down to write the short story and the story that was so beautiful inside her head refused to come out that way on paper.
He dropped the ball. While most people would think that this was a metaphor of some type, in Joe's case it was absolutely literal. He had hopes of reaching the Major League and that dream was now it great jeopardy. All because he had dropped the ball.
The chair sat in the corner where it had been for over 25 years. The only difference was there was someone actually sitting in it. How long had it been since someone had done that? Ten years or more he imagined. Yet there was no denying the presence in the chair now.
There was little doubt that the bridge was unsafe. All one had to do was look at it to know that with certainty. Yet Bob didn't see another option. He may have been able to work one out if he had a bit of time to think things through, but time was something he didn't have. A choice needed to be made, and it needed to be made quickly.
If you can imagine a furry humanoid seven feet tall, with the face of an intelligent gorilla and the braincase of a man, you'll have a rough idea of what they looked like -- except for their teeth. The canines would have fitted better in the face of a tiger, and showed at the corners of their wide, thin-lipped mouths, giving them an expression of ferocity.
I'm going to hire professional help tomorrow. I can't handle this anymore. She fell over the coffee table and now there is blood in her catheter. This is much more than I ever signed up to do.
Colors bounced around in her head. They mixed and threaded themselves together. Even colors that had no business being together. They were all one, yet distinctly separate at the same time. How was she going to explain this to the others?
She sat in the darkened room waiting. It was now a standoff. He had the power to put her in the room, but not the power to make her repent. It wasn't fair and no matter how long she had to endure the darkness, she wouldn't change her attitude. At three years old, Sandy's stubborn personality had already bloomed into full view.
He was an expert but not in a discipline that anyone could fully appreciate. He knew how to hold the cone just right so that the soft server ice-cream fell into it at the precise angle to form a perfect cone each and every time. It had taken years to perfect and he could now do it without even putting any thought behind it. Nobody seemed to fully understand the beauty of this accomplishment except for the new worker who watched in amazement.
She wanted rainbow hair. That's what she told the hairdresser. It should be deep rainbow colors, too. She wasn't interested in pastel rainbow hair. She wanted it deep and vibrant so there was no doubt that she had done this on purpose.
All he could think about was how it would all end. There was still a bit of uncertainty in the equation, but the basics were there for anyone to see. No matter how much he tried to see the positive, it wasn't anywhere to be seen. The end was coming and it wasn't going to be pretty.
It was that terrifying feeling you have as you tightly hold the covers over you with the knowledge that there is something hiding under your bed. You want to look, but you don't at the same time. You're frozen with fear and unable to act. That's where she found herself and she didn't know what to do next
"What is the best way to get what you want?" she asked. He looked down at the ground knowing that she wouldn't like his answer. He hesitated, knowing that the truth would only hurt. How was he going to tell her that the best way for him to get what he wanted was to leave her?
It was a scrape that he hardly noticed. Sure, there was a bit of blood but it was minor compared to most of the other cuts and bruises he acquired on his adventures. There was no way he could know that the rock that produced the cut had alien genetic material on it that was now racing through his bloodstream. He felt perfectly normal and continued his adventure with no knowledge of what was about to happen to him.
Do you think you're living an ordinary life? You are so mistaken it's difficult to even explain. The mere fact that you exist makes you extraordinary. The odds of you existing are less than winning the lottery, but here you are. Are you going to let this extraordinary opportunity pass?
It went through such rapid contortions that the little bear was forced to change his hold on it so many times he became confused in the darkness, and could not, for the life of him, tell whether he held the sheep right side up, or upside down. But that point was decided for him a moment later by the animal itself, who, with a sudden twist, jabbed its horns so hard into his lowest ribs that he gave a grunt of anger and disgust.
What if dogs were racist? Would they care about fur color….. "son, only play with other tan dogs"? Or maybe it would depend on breed, "honey, only play with other German Shepards, never poodles". Better yet it could depend on occupation. "I'm a sled dog while you're only a running companion, leave me alone". Maybe the neighborhood they live in could be the way they choose which dogs to associate with and which to shun? Size could be the determining factor, "see how tall that dog is, they are probably dumb". Luckily dogs don't discriminate. Just watch at a dog park. Big black and white dogs wag their tails and play with tiny tan dogs. A service dog chases after the same ball as the off-duty police dog. So if dogs don't discriminate then why do we?
Since they are still preserved in the rocks for us to see, they must have been formed quite recently, that is, geologically speaking. What can explain these striations and their common orientation? Did you ever hear about the Great Ice Age or the Pleistocene Epoch? Less than one million years ago, in fact, some 12,000 years ago, an ice sheet many thousands of feet thick rode over Burke Mountain in a southeastward direction. The many boulders frozen to the underside of the ice sheet tended to scratch the rocks over which they rode. The scratches or striations seen in the park rocks were caused by these attached boulders. The ice sheet also plucked and rounded Burke Mountain into the shape it possesses today.
The headphones were on. They had been utilized on purpose. She could hear her mom yelling in the background, but couldn't make out exactly what the yelling was about. That was exactly why she had put them on. She knew her mom would enter her room at any minute, and she could pretend that she hadn't heard any of the previous yelling.
No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't give her a good explanation about what had happened. It didn't even really make sense to him. All he knew was that he froze at the moment and no matter how hard he tried to react, nothing in his body allowed him to move. It was as if he had instantly become a statue and although he could see what was taking place, he couldn't move to intervene. He knew that wasn't a satisfactory explanation even though it was the truth.
It all started with the computer. Had he known what was to follow, he would have never logged on that day. But the truth was there was no way to know what was about to happen. So Dave pressed the start button, the computer booted up, the screen came alive, and everything Dave knew to be true no longer was.
She patiently waited for his number to be called. She had no desire to be there, but her mom had insisted that she go. She's resisted at first, but over time she realized it was simply easier to appease her and go. Mom tended to be that way. She would keep insisting until you wore down and did what she wanted. So, here she sat, patiently waiting for her number to be called.
It all started with a random letter. Several of those were joined forces to create a random word. The words decided to get together and form a random sentence. They decided not to stop there and it wasn't long before a random paragraph had been cobbled together. The question was whether or not they could continue the momentum long enough to create a random short story.
Waiting and watching. It was all she had done for the past weeks. When you're locked in a room with nothing but food and drink, that's about all you can do anyway. She watched as birds flew past the window bolted shut. She couldn't reach it if she wanted too, with that hole in the floor. She thought she could escape through it but three stories is a bit far down.
The tree missed the days the kids used to come by and play. It still wore the tire swing the kids had put up in its branches years ago although both the tire and the rope had seen better days. The tree had watched all the kids in the neighborhood grow up and leave, and it wondered if there would ever be a time when another child played and laughed again under its branches. That was the hope that the tree wished every day as the swing gently swung empty in the wind.
Green vines attached to the trunk of the tree had wound themselves toward the top of the canopy. Ants used the vine as their private highway, avoiding all the creases and crags of the bark, to freely move at top speed from top to bottom or bottom to top depending on their current chore. At least this was the way it was supposed to be. Something had damaged the vine overnight halfway up the tree leaving a gap in the once pristine ant highway.
It was a good idea. At least, they all thought it was a good idea at the time. Hindsight would reveal that in reality, it was an unbelievably terrible idea, but it would take another week for them to understand that. Right now, at this very moment. they all agreed that it was the perfect course of action for the current situation.
How had she been so wrong? All her instincts and intuition completely failed her for the first time in her life. She had so heavily relied on both when making decisions up until this moment and she felt a seismic shift take place in her self-confidence. If she could be so completely wrong about something so simple as this, how could she make decisions about really important things taking place in her life? She wasn't sure what she should do next.
Trees. It was something about the trees. The way they swayed with the wind in unison. The way they shaded the area around them. The sounds of their leaves in the wind and the creaks from the branches as they sway, The trees were making a statement that I just couldn't understand.
Although Scott said it didn't matter to him, he knew deep inside that it did. They had been friends as long as he could remember and not once had he had to protest that something Joe apologized for doing didn't really matter. Scott stuck to his lie and insisted again and again that everything was fine as Joe continued to apologize. Scott already knew that despite his words accepting the apologies that their friendship would never be the same.
Sometimes it's just better not to be seen. That's how Harry had always lived his life. He prided himself as being the fly on the wall and the fae that blended into the crowd. That's why he was so shocked that she noticed him.
It's always good to bring a slower friend with you on a hike. If you happen to come across bears, the whole group doesn't have to worry. Only the slowest in the group do. That was the lesson they were about to learn that day.
Dave found joy in the daily routine of life. He awoke at the same time, ate the same breakfast and drove the same commute. He worked at a job that never seemed to change and he got home at 6 pm sharp every night. It was who he had been for the last ten years and he had no idea that was all about to change.
He stepped away from the mic. This was the best take he had done so far, but something seemed missing. Then it struck him all at once. Visuals ran in front of his eyes and music rang in his ears. His eager fingers went to work in an attempt to capture his thoughts hoping the results would produce something that was at least half their glory.
She sat down with her notebook in her hand, her mind wandering to faraway places. She paused and considered all that had happened. It hadn't gone as expected. When the day began she thought it was going to be a bad one, but as she sat recalling the day's events to write them down, she had to admit, it had been a rather marvelous day.
I recently discovered I could make fudge with just chocolate chips, sweetened condensed milk, vanilla extract, and a thick pot on slow heat. I tried it with dark chocolate chunks and I tried it with semi-sweet chocolate chips. It's better with both kinds. It comes out pretty bad with just the dark chocolate. The best add-ins are crushed almonds and marshmallows -- what you get from that is Rocky Road. It takes about twenty minutes from start to fridge, and then it takes about six months to work off the twenty pounds you gain from eating it. All things in moderation, friends. All things in moderation.
It's not his fault. I know you're going to want to, but you can't blame him. He really has no idea how it happened. I kept trying to come up with excuses I could say to mom that would keep her calm when she found out what happened, but the more I tried, the more I could see none of them would work. He was going to get her wrath and there was nothing I could say to prevent it.
Twenty-five years Dana had been waiting. She tried to be patient during that time but she hadn't always managed to be as patient as she'd like. But today the opportunity had finally come. The thing she always imagined would make her the happiest person in the world was about to happen. She didn't know why at this specific time she all of a sudden felt sick inside.
Cake or pie? I can tell a lot about you by which one you pick. It may seem silly, but cake people and pie people are really different. I know which one I hope you are, but that's not for me to decide. So, what is it? Cake or pie?
Benny was tired. Not the normal every day tired from a hard day o work. The exhausted type of tired where you're surprised your body can even move. All he wanted to do was sit in front of the TV, put his feet up on the coffee table, and drink a beer. The only issue was that he had forgotten where he lived.