Waves lapped at her toes as she stood in the wet sand and looked across the sound to the island. A small plume of smoke rose from the chimney, hidden behind black spruce and birch trees.
She could see the canoe tied to the island's dock, rocking gently with the waves.
The image of the waves coming in both directions unearthed a memory or feeling she had kept buried for quite some time. Tim's waves had pushed in one direction and her's had surge in the opposite.
"What was in the middle. What pushed them apart," she wondered.
Now she...
The city buildings are below and the windows opening to the living rooms are windows into the soul of the city. The bookshelves, the home libraries, glow with the artifacts of their souls. I scan the horizon for those pulsars of literature, searching for life beyond the automatic.
Care boxes? More care boxes? Do they think care boxes are supporting the troops? Take it back. I don't want it. Don't just take it back, send it back. I don't want their pity. I don't want their support if that is what they call it. I don't want them to be able to get off thinking that they are now justified in continuing to live most apathetically under the freedoms that I supposedly am fighting for.
Instead of filling care boxes they should be filling ballot boxes. Instead of sending care in boxes they should be sending letters to...
The results were in. I was going to have to gouge my eyeballs out with a tablespoon and then feed them to Guido, the hungry rhinosaurous on granddad's farm. If I didn't do that, my eyeballs would slowly seep down my face over the next three years. This had to be done.
I stuck the spoon in my eye. It made a sound like GLICK. Blood shot everywhere. My peripheral vision diminished by about 45 per cent. Then I stuck the spoon in my other eye. [NOTE: THE REST OF THIS STORY IS BEING TRANSCRIBED BY MY WIFE, BRENDA, SINCE...
The lamp wouldn't turn on. After all, it wasn't supposed to. If the lamp had turned on, it would have been back to square one for the elite team of lamp-saboteurs that had been hard at work here for a good week. It was with some relief, then, that the captain was able to announce their part of the mission to be complete. The not-turning-on of the lamp was the final piece in an elaborate and highly confidential plan, the full nature of which even the saboteurs were blissfully unaware...
It all came to a head just two weeks later....
The world was ending. Not in the sense of Deep Impact or Independence Day. No, this wasn't a big budget Hollywood thriller. Simply told, the world was ending because drinking water was drying up, the ozone layer was nearly kaput, and we genetically engineered vitamins out of fruits and vegetables for blemish free skin. The lucky who weren't dropping dead of dehydration were losing their teeth to nutrient deficiency and getting 3rd degree burns from the sun.
Years earlier, NASA had found a planet that might support life and as things became more dire on Earth, they spent more time...
The sheep were at pasture. The air was still and crisp, silent but for the rustle of leaves and the drift of a "baa" from the content grazers.
Restless, I turned my eyes to the mountains that were the backdrop of the field, letting my eyes rove over the gray craggy slopes up to the snowy white caps that scraped at the belly of the sky. I felt the chill creep up my spine.
Adventure stretched just beyond these fences. One day, I would become more than this, more than a humble shepard. One day, I would scale those mountains...
Water. That's what I always think of when I think of her. Cannon Creek, Lake Erie, the Atlantic, the Pacific, nothing too specific.
Water can be anything you need, want, fear, love, hate. It can be clear, it can be murky. It can be warm, cold, swallow, deep. All these things are what water naturally is.
In my memory, our love is an ocean. Oh, yes. We were in love. I'm not so hopelessly romantic that I would ever be involved in unreciprocated love. No, no. We were in love, and it was the ocean.
She swam in the clear...
She'd have preferred the electric chair, but he wouldn't have it. "Think about how much easier it would be on everyone hon," Sarah said as she stared down at her son, sitting in his black Quickie wheelchair. "You wouldn't have to roll yourself so much and your father and I wouldn't have to help you up those steep hills if you had this chair."
Mark stared at the other wheelchair, with its electric motor, and grimaced. "Ma, I'm already lazy as it is," he told her bluntly. "If I don't roll myself my arms will atrophy as much as my...
She followed the footsteps that wound through the snow; the clouds that brushed across the moon's face alternately limning and hiding them. A shudder rippled through her as the wind bit deep and the faint trail of her steady breath formed and faded behind her. At the edge of the trees, she halted and focused intently on the figure crouched in the center of the clearing. Arms wrapped tightly around his knees and his head bent, not a flicker of movement betrayed him.
She unzipped her jacked and tugged off her gloves, letting them fall to the ground. The soft...