In memory of Sanvee Ali, age 5.
He will be remembered in our home and in our hearts.
At least the cold would keep the goods from spoiling.
That was Fred's first thought as he lugged the heavy packages from the back of truck, balancing them awkwardly as he struggled through snow. Luckily, the hospital was only a couple blocks away. Delivering the cargo on time without any fluids leaking or parts spoiling shouldn't be a problem. The last thing a transplant patient needs is complications.
Thank goodness for the cold.
Standing on the ledge, it seemed so surreal to him. It was like an out of body experience. He couldn't remember deciding to go to the roof. He certainly didn't remember deciding to do what he was about to do. It was almost humorous how much it felt like an out of body experience, almost. He looked down at his clothes and thought of all the different things he could have worn for this. It's odd the details that come into your mind in times of crisis and stress. I guess the devil really is in the details. He was...
Suddenly everything was silent, at the death at night as the moon shined upon me. I stroll through the streets peacefully exploring the beautiful scenery of London as suddenly I hear a loud screech "OOO" there he was high up in the tree looking over me, his face focused aggressively over me as he stares me down from a distance. I freeze as a cold breeze brushes against my skin a sharp shiver runs down my spine in fear. My heart began to bet rapidly as i saw him ready to prounce, i take off bolting at full speed as...
AwesomeAwesome. The goal is to write like the wind? I think not. Friday is a black day for productivity. This is illustrated in our hero, Freewrite. Optimism is a dying breed in Friday, where nothing gets done, and we must relax. we are constricted by it. Freewrite goes on a quest, to the edge of Friday, on a sacred quest to find Work Ethic, said to redeem the last Optimisms in the land. But the victory, my friends, is that Work Ethic is not found, but made. Hard work redeems Optimism, comrades. specially on a Friday, when I could eat...
"No, absolutely not!" Mama Tiger told her cub.
"But Moooooom! All the other cubs get to bring down a gazelle at my age!"
"I don't care what all the other cubs do. I'm not their mother; I'm yours. And the answer is no."
Timothy Tiger wandered off to sulk with his siblings, who were fighting over a piece of dark meat. Watching his brothers fight over a leg, he mumbled, "I bet your mother wasn't overprotective like mine."
He stopped and pondered this a moment. "Oh," he said in sudden realization, shrugged his shoulders and grabbed a leg bone from...
I am looking out the window of my tiny house in Michigan and watching the snow pile up on the road.
I won't be going into town today, and I don't mind at all.
My dog is in a ball at my feet. The heat is on. I'm wrapped in a blanket. I feel so lucky in this moment to be alone here, to feel safe and to feel like I'm home and there is nothing to be scared of.
I think this morning I will maybe go back to bed. But I think later I'll read a bit, and...
Once, in Beijing, a young girl in a red gown huddled in a doorway. She had just made it home. It was 11:58 p.m. The night would end in a couple of minutes, and with it, her glittering ruby gown, the silken slippers, and the jade hairpins keeping her silken locks in its elaborate up-do. But for now, she would savor the evening she'd just had: eating the most sumptuous food she'd ever had, mingling with the guests she'd once called neighbors, and most of all, dancing in the yellow throne room with the prince's half-brother.
the pumpkin
He ran into the room, his heart pounding, and his clothes soaking wet.
"What's wrong?!" she asked him.
He ducked into a side room away from the windows in the door. "The police are looking for me. They think I killed someone," he said.
"Oh my god! Why do they think that?"
"I don't know, but I didn't do anything."
"What happened?"
"I was our for a walk when the storm started, and I knocked on the door of the nearest house where I saw lights on. There was no answer, so I opened the door to see if anyone...
I held it at arm's length, pressing the butt of the gun into my shoulder. It was heavy and my muscles screamed and burned with the weight. "Almost there," I thought to myself. A strand of my hair fell into my eyes but I ignored it and kept my focus on my target. Carefully balancing my weapon, I raised a hand to still my partner walking behind me. Three of my fingers held up for him to see.
Three.
Target in sight.
Two.
Ready.
One.
Run.
We ran across the bright grass, firing endlessly in the direction of our intended...