Olden Days Short StoryTo my beloved wife, Anna.
Ah! My first month here in Massachusetts has past, never have I seen such a dull two fortnights pass! When I left you and my dearest sons, David and Michael, to care for my mother, I'm sure none of us had the slightest notion how remote the town of Northamshire could be! There are certainly young people for me to chat with, but they act most un-Christian! Doing nothing but drinking and cursing! I do not believe you need my explaining as to where they will soon be going! However, the real reason which I am writing is to let you know that the dullness has finally ended! A traveling priest from Europe by the name of George Whitfield came to our small little town today, to give a sermon. Now, I am sure, as I would if I were you, that you are frowning down at this letter by this point. I understand how tedious and uninteresting sermons can sometimes be (although they do not seem that way after Northamshire!), but Mr. Whitfield seems to have truly awakene
Ender's Game Alternate EndingAlternate Ending to Enders Game
Ender brought the cocoon of the queen back to his fellow humans. He allowed the queen to tell her story to everyone. When they all had heard the queens explanation, they took pity on their former enemies, and turned on their hero, Ender Wiggin.
How could he wipe out an entire race, a race which he completely misunderstood? It was his fault that a race of misunderstood beings were killed. They decided to put him on trial, for the genocide of the buggers.
The trial went on for months. Back on Earth, everyone was following the trial obsessively. They all wanted to see Ender pay for his crime. After several months of Enders being on trial, they sentenced him to be banished to a cabin 18 miles from their small community. His wife, Tammy, chose to go with him. Every week or so, Val would sneak over to his cabin to visit him.
One day, as she was over having lunch
A Conversation With God I woke up at 8:59 am. I still had about an hour before I needed to get up to catch my 2:00 plane, so I decided I'd sleep for another half hour or so. So I closed my eyes and went back to sleep.
I didn't wake up half an hour later. I didn't even wake up an hour later. I awoke at 12:45 pm. As I gazed at the clock, it took me a moment to register what I was seeing. I then cursed at the top of my lungs, and sprung out of bed.
I ran around my run down apartment throwing on clothes and throwing stuff into my suitcase. I actually tripped over my suitcase once, giving my ankle a pretty bad sprain. When I was finally all packed and ready, I tried to run out to my car, but with my sprained ankle, I probably looked like a freak, with my uneven steps.
I drove, speeding to the Airport and got there at about 1:45. I already had my ticket with me, so that was ok. But when I got to the bag check in line, th
Long Lake Camp is the Best Because of the performing arts camp, Long Lake Camp, I have learned more than ever about doing what I love to do: Acting. My grandfather found LLC by complete accident. He found it on a popup. He asked me if I wanted to go, and I was extremely hesitant. Im a really shy person at times, and I didnt know hoe LLC would suit me. My grandfather kind of forced me to go there, and I agreed to go two sessions. When I got there, it was probably one of the most uncomfortable moments in my entire life. Everyone knew everyone, and because I was one of the new campers, I was completely at a loss of what to do. But in only a couple of days, however, I started to realize that not only was I starting to absolutely become obsessed with LLC, but that I was at home. Yes, this line sounds a bit corny, but its true. Did you know that LLC produces more shows in one summer than Broadway does all year? And there are three wonderful theatres on campus. But it
UzgunuzÜzgünüz, bu özelliği kullanma izniniz yok. Eğer giriş yapmadıysanız, aşağıdaki formu kullanarak giriş yapabilirsiniz. Eğer üye değilseniz giriş formunun altındaki link yardımı ile üye olunuz ve bütün özellikleri kullanma yetkisini alınız Hikmet adında bir arkadaşım var. Bana bir sır açıkladı. Sana yazayım mı diye çok düşündüm. Yazmakta bir sakınca görmüyorum. Hikmet, bana anlattığı olayı, sınıftaki arkadaşlarımızın duymalarını istemiyor. Ben de ağzımı sıkı tuttum, kimseye bişey söylemedim. Ama sen nasıl olsa Hikmeti tanımıyorsun. Onun anlattıklarını sana yazmakla, bana verdiği sırrı açıklamış olmuyorum. Öyl
A Broken Promise It was a beautiful summer day, and Mrs. Cole was standing at the sink in her kitchen, chopping onions and looking out of the window over the sink. In the faint reflection of the window, Mrs. Cole could see her plate displaying Jesus Christ hanging on her wall. This particular plate was something of a comfort, or a luxury on which Mrs. Cole depended. Being a mother and a housewife, she spent at least 7 hours a day in her sparkling kitchen. Whether she was cleaning, cooking, or talking to her friend on the phone, whenever she felt alone, or upset, she would look up at Jesus and feel like she was safe.
Despite the beautiful weather, Mrs. Cole was not entirely happy. Even as she looked at her Christ plate, she couldnt find anything to pacify her furious breathing. She shook her long blonde hair that so many women envied out of her face and returned to chopping onions.
Her seven year old daughter
Real Monologue When I was in about 3rd grade, most people thought I was weird because I worked at the local homeless shelter. Why do you want to hang around those low-lives? they would always ask me. I never could really tell them right there, because the reason was such a private experience. It was nothing I was embarrassed about, but it was just something that was my own personal experience. Its just that one day I was walking along feeling sorry for myself because my parents wouldnt let me have a friend over to stay the night. But then I walked by this area that was extremely dirty, and from out of nowhere this guy just sits up from beneath all of these card-board boxes. Beard down to his chest, hair dirty and down his back. But it was his eyes. It was something about his eyes. As I looked into them, I almost saw myself. I could almost relate to the emotion that was in his eyes. I didnt know what to think, so I just took off running. I ran and
Stage Door Short Story Wow said Kim. I cant believe we have to go downstairs to do the stupid read through. It was Saturday afternoon, and Kim was in theatre rehearsal for the play Stage Door. She was playing Terry, the main role, and new she had about 300 lines to memorize.
The main reason Kim didnt want to go downstairs was because it was about a hundred degrees down there. The basement of the theatre had a bunch of heating pipes running through it, so it constantly felt like you were in a sauna.
Come on said Kims partner, Joe. Itll just take a few hours.
Yeah, only a few hours of sweating like a pig. Lets just try and get this over with as soon as possible. Kim knew Joe was just being optimistic. Thats the way he always was, which was one of the things about him that annoyed Kim.
Kim and Joe c
A Burdened Child I dont know what to do. How can I tell him? How can I tell my own father that hes an alcoholic? Will he understand? Will he hit me? The problem is that someone has got to tell him. Mom cant do it. She just doesnt care. Its not that shes an alcoholic, but she has her own problems that I cant even begin to try to help her with. My brother Web cant tell him. Hes only nine, and how could he understand at such a young age? Is there anyone else who could tell him? It just has got to be done. He gets drunk every night, every day, even at work! Hell surely get fired soon. He a surveyor! He gets drunk on the job, and hes a goddamned surveyor! For one thing, surveying is a dangerous job as it is. Second off, theyre not going to keep paying a drunk. Whatll happen if he gets fired? Moms only a teacher at a public school, which isnt going to earn her enough money to support herself, her
The Ghost from the ClosetThis is a story bout my buddy Mistgod :iconMistgod: and his childhood ghost from the closet. It is a true story. This story illustrates the double edged sword of a powerful imagination.
As a child Davie (Mistgod) would have trouble sleeping, just as he does as an adult. His dreams were extremely vivid and colorful and often the dreams continued for a while even after he awakened. It was terrifying to a seven year old. One of those waking nightmares was the ghost in the bedroom closet.
For a while, each night he would hear shuffling noises coming from the closet. He would cry and scream, waking his brothers up and his parents. They would tell him it was only a dream or his imagination. Eventually they tired so much of this they quit consoling him and just ignored him. So he suffered in terrified silence. Something was definitely moving in that closet!
He would fall asleep and dream bout it. In t
CarterBeautiful minds are found in the strangest of places. Today, I found one wandering about in a place where most beautiful minds are found: the library.
The day had gone from bad to worse. One argument, one robbery, one piece of startling news. By the time my second period of freedom came, I was inches from tears and ready to end my day. I was fifty five minutes away from the freedom of home, and the promise of no teachers or schoolwork the next day. I moodily shuffled over to a table in the nook of the library and sat down at the table to list the various tasks I had to complete over the course of the next few days.
Hannah, a dear friend, called me over. She appeared to be stamping books. For what, I did not yet know.
"If you have some free time, could you help me stamp these books?"
I politely refused, saying that I had other engagements, and returned to my table. However, said engagement quickly was finished, and I returned to the table with the girl and her enormous stack of books.
ChrisHe always had the penchant for the poetic and the photographic. His Twitter profile had the following words: Bare in the forest, pen on the page, note to a key, and a dream on a cinema screen.
But for what we could have become, it was never to be.
As with all things significant for me, it started on the Internet. On Facebook. On Twitter. I volunteered, somewhat bravely, to be a mentor to a bunch of first-year journalism students. They were fresh out of high school. I almost wish they could read my mind. What they think journalism is will be forever shattered by the first year I had just endured.
But there's always an exception to the rule. Chris. In the 2014 first-year journalism group on Facebook he was asking questions, running polls, cracking random jokes. He amused me. I stumbled across his Twitter account, and with stalkerish ease I gathered more information about him. He was an actor, a photographer, a musician and a self-published novelist. He modelled for
veinte.Am Donnerstagabend geschah noch ein Wunder und dann flogen wir zurück. Nico und ich sassen auf der Plaza de la Santa Ana, und gaben uns Mühe, etwas zu Essen zu bestellen, was in Spanien nie einfach ist. Man ist entweder zu früh oder zu spät oder sie machen gerade Siesta. Julia setzte sich drei Meter weiter vorne mit dem Rücken zu uns hin. Einfach so. Aus dem Nichts wie der Urknall. „Mein Gott, da ist ja Julia“, zischte ich. – „Ich weiss“, sagte Nico ruhig, „ich habe sie über den Platz kommen sehen, aber ich hab mir gedacht, ich sag jetzt absichtlich nichts.“ Sie hatte uns nicht gesehen, dabei hätten wir uns mit den Fingerspitzen berühren können, wenn wir beide einen Arm nach dem anderen ausgestreckt hätten wie Gottvater und Adam in Michelangelos berühmtem Gemälde. Noch so ein unglaublicher Zufall?! „O süsses Lied“, hob ich zu flüstern an, „auf welches Instru
Biography Thingy I was born in Windsor at Hotel-Dieu hospital and spent the first few years of my life living in a small house in Windsor with my parents and my older sister. I don’t remember much about the first couple years of my life or even living in this house, just pictures and stories from my parents. When I was around 4 or 5 years old, we moved to Tecumseh and I grew up as a Tecumseh kid. It was around this age that I discovered a passion for sports and my parents signed me up to play hockey and baseball. I played travel hockey and baseball for several years and this is where I met most of my close childhood friends. I was very shy as a child and had trouble speaking to people and mostly kept to myself. Despite being parts of sports teams, I always felt isolated as a child but I still had a relatively happy childhood. My parents did their best to spoil my sister and I despite the financial struggles that my family went through.
Her"Why would someone as brilliant and nice and good as you be friends with me?" I asked her, mumbling the question to my desk. We watched the math class play board games and cards, with a chess set between us. I was winning, but she was able to keep up with my moves, and she could see the motives behind some of my more complex manuevers.
I wasn't surprised.
She thought for a moment, and with hardly a beat, she replied. "I don't know." We moved on, and I ended up beating her in chess. Afterwards, we sat on the floor and talked about the world, politics, possible cures to diseases.
"I could rule the world." I told her suddenly. "The question really is, what I'd do with it." She didn't doubt me.
"You'd need help in diplomacy." She told me, smiling. I laughed.
"Imagine all the people I'd offend. My poor secretary; all the apology letters and speeches..." A thought occurred to me. "You'd be good at those things. We could do it together." She smiled.
"I'd be your translator. 'My sincerest apol
Daily Quickie #18: Camp Tie-UpsThis is a true story. Names have been changed for the sake of privacy. This story involves minors and light bondage, but no sexual content. If that is what you are looking for, you're in the wrong place. With that said, enjoy!
In my job as a camp counselor, I have the express privilege of seeing some weird stuff. Every summer, I spend a week surrounded by about 120 boys between the ages of eleven and seventeen, with the wonderful smell of hormones in the air. And it was this last year that prompted one of the more interesting events I have ever seen there.
I had been reading a bunch of TUG stories all over DA and the like, and decided to try a little social experiment. I set up a knot-tying tutorial for any camper that wanted to take part, and got a fairly large turnout, much to my surprise. When I was a kid, those kind of things tended to generate groans. Apparently, this group was a lot more interested. I would soon discover why.
I spent about half an hour teaching them basic kno
Liberty's LocksI'd be lying if I said that I remembered all the details, but I think I knew even then that the maxims of conversation had been violated. I indicated no interest in Princess Diana or Great Britain, but the conversation kept turning back to those subjects. Aunt Betsy—who was actually my cousin, not my aunt—made a diligent effort to introduce me to Princess Diana through picture books we flipped through on the floor of the musky basement apartment. “This is a real, live princess,” she told me. I was at an age where I asked a lot of questions, but I don't remember being particularly interested in Princess Diana. I marked, however, that her hair was very short.
I would soon be sobbing ostentatiously as my fine brown hair dropped onto the floor in clumps. My aunt would halt the barber to lecture me about the inappropriateness of the racket I'm making, and console me that when the nice barber lady is done, I will look like Princess Diana.
“I don't want to
Mi autobiografia espanolHola. Me llamo es Jack King. Vivo en Cashiers North Carolina. Estoy en la escuela de Tilton, y es una muy buena escuela. Yo conversando con mi novia que se llama Natalia Reichman. Ella es muy bonita, interesante, y muy buena en la clase de arte. Pienso ella es la mejor artista en el mundo. Tenemos mucho en común. Hablamos por teléfono casi todos los días. Me gusta actuar, cantar, y esquí. Yo no soy buena que en la escuela, pero yo soy un duro trabajador. Vivo con mis abuelos porque mis padres tenían problemas. A veces no me gusta mis abuelos porque son muy ambiciosos conmigo