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
About the Blues There were reasons I was going to write about a grand mal seizure. Heck, I still have the reasons: I feel like it and it's on my mind. I say "it" because I only had one and it was some time ago. But they say I did a bang-up job of it.
My sister told me, "I woke you up to tell you it was time to go to the horse show, and you stood there and said you had a headache and wouldn't make it. Made me mad, actually. Then you keeled over and it's good my husband was there to catch you."
I remember the headache. Worst one I've ever had, truly crippling. I didn't want to disappoint my sister and her husband though. After all, my daughter and I were staying with them for an unspecified length of time. I'd even grown fond of the friggin horse shows.
The memory that's most embarrassing is a big sign the seizure isn't a small one -- loss of control of the bladder. Check. Tremors. Check. And I guess you stick out your tongue and your eyes go kinda
An Audience of OneHow many people have to enjoy your creations before they are considered art? What if you only share it with one person you love?
When I was in the U.S. Navy on deployment, my father would send me little abstracts he drew on pieces of card stock. I was his only audience. To me, they are the greatest art he ever did and they mean so very much to me. Art is emotion, and he showed his love for me with these. They are very special. There are many more in his gallery folder on my page. http://mistgod.deviantart.com/gallery/5376791/Dad-s-artwork-James-Leon-Devine-1937-2008
Thanks for letting me share him a bit. Artist: James Leon Devine 1937 - 2008
Battery MendellIt was just about sundown in the Marin Headlands. Away on the horizon, the Farallon Islands were silhouetted against the sun; the breeze had fallen, the world holding its breath. Across the Golden Gate Bridge, glorious in the dying light, The City sparkled and hummed inaudibly.
Kicking around the old bunker in the lengthening blue shadows, conversation had fallen into a lull, as well. Tired of scuffing pebbles with his shoe, Josh followed me down the crumbling concrete steps as I went to examine the heavy iron doors, rusted shut with the fog of a century.
“That’s where the Morlocks come out,” he said, jokingly.
Two things happened at once. The sun dipped in its final dive below the horizon, the last gold melting into the cold fingers of waiting fog on the western sea.
And in the empty warren of corridors riddling the mountain beneath us, we all simultaneously felt something wake up.
It was old. We knew that much. And we knew it was dreadful.
And it was comin
Procrastination CrapIt's dark now. The last drops of sunlight have been drained from the valley, leaving the soft film of twilight over the camp. She has long since left the safety behind the white line and wanders in the forest alone. Her footsteps are light on the ground, careful not to make a sound louder than the whispers of the tree around her. She crouches low to the ground as she moves through the shadows, keeping her ragged, frightening breathing under control. To her, it's more than a game. In her mind, the shouts in the valley are from a great battle where her allies fall to the ground with dead eyes and blood wets the long grass. Capture the Flag is a simple game, but in darkness, it turns to a deadly fight for survival that can only be ended with a triumphant ringing of the victory bell and a flag held high by the victors. Until then, the campers are brutal hunters. The girl freezes as she hears the voices of older campers drawing near. Dropping into a crouch, she presses into the bush and wat
dieciseis.Während Julia hier in Madrid weilte, kriegte ihre Katze zu Hause in Bern Junge. Ich ging einmal vorbei, weil ich dachte, wenn Julia das alles verpasst, dann sollte ich es mir wenigstens nicht entgehen lassen. Die Katze hatte sich unten in Julias Schrank ein improvisiertes Nest mit heruntergefallenen Kleidungsstücken und Halstüchern gebaut. Und dort lagen sie, die drei kleinen Fellknäuel, gerade ein paar Wochen alt.
Man könnte stundenlang dasitzen, nur um ein kleines Kätzchen noch ein bisschen länger in seinen Händen zu halten. Irgendwie tut es gut und ich begann zu begreifen, warum Julia eine „tiergestützte Psychotherapie“ ins Leben rufen will. Hält man so ein Tierchen in den Händen, wird man sofort zu einem besseren Menschen. Eben war man noch voller bitterem Stolz und wollte die Welt niederbrennen, jetzt denkt man: Nö, lass mal.
Irgendwann öffnen die Kleinen ihre Äugelein und finden heraus, dass sie Bei
Hell is Clingy I remember it carried over from second grade to the third – fifth grade playground. Ant City, a home for all the ants, would flourish well here. More trees, more room and softer dirt to dig out tiny trenches and burrows.
I remember my best friend's first approach was driven by a teacher's request, but soon C and I went at the ground and at the pine trees trailing long beads of sap, together. I remember being short and frustrated at not being to reach high sap places.
I remember the day the long line trees along the fence had orange X's slashed onto them, Tennessee orange. We clumped mud and smeared it over the spray painted bark and amber sap. We couldn't use the sap now… Are the ants going to die? I asked her. She had all the answers. C looked at the scattered drops of orange-coated sap on the tree. For the first time, she said nothing.
I remember going back to the p
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