"One scoop chocolate one scoop..." the blonde girl behind the counter moved almost mechanically as she expertly balanced four scoops of smooth ice cream on a giant waffle cone.
"And some sprinkles, please." The girl cast a tired glance in the direction of the little curly haired boy staring up at her expectantly. A smile made its way onto the girl's face as she dusted the last scoop with colorful sprinkles and handed it to the boy. His eyes lit up as he looked at the wonderful treat in his hands.
"Don't drop it," The warning came from over the...
She glanced demurely across the two-foot circle of a table at him. What a catch. His work shirt was only slightly ill-fitting, his hair feigned casualness. He couldn't stop looking at her. It may have been the needless extra half-inch of cleavage she had allowed.
There really wasn't any need to try. His work-weary eyes and somewhat hunched shoulders showed that he could use some fun. His seemingly lackadaisical approach, charming smile and the comfortable way he asked her out meant that he'd taken girls here before. The Portland City Grill, 30 floors up in the highest building in Portland....
*Note: the story you are about to read was based on a true story
The earthquake hadn't worried us too much. I mean, come on, we were on vacation. Worries are far away when I am on vacation. My wife and I were sitting on the beach enjoying the beautiful evening together after the earthquake when I had a startling thought falsh through my mind. "Honey, don't tsunami's usually happen after earthquakes like that?" "Yeah." "Well, I suppose we'll leave if the water starts to disappear." Well, after a few minutes, that was what happened. The water disappeared. I could...
I still washed his shirt. There was only his plaid shirt, because it was what he'd worn. But I still washed it. My son disappeared a few years ago. They found his body by the lake. He was wearing that old plaid shirt. The rest of his clothes I gave to my nephew, about his size. But that plaid short...I'd never give that to anyone. It was his, it was all I had left. The plaid shirt. His room was in perfect condition, but it didn't seem right. But his shirt in my soft-from-washing-so-many-dishes hands. It felt like everything was...
Like a breeze in the wind
Rising and falling.
Telling and calling
Whispers that fly
and then die without falling.
Like a small spec of dust
that seems just like the others
but is really unique
as it floats and then shudders
its way to the ground
and then splits and disperses
its atoms around.
It's horses for courses.
Taste. The middle, forgotten brother in the family of senses.
They don't have helper dogs or monkeys for people who can't taste anything. No one is working on smaller and smaller devices to amplify or stimulate tastebuds.
You can either taste or not and no one really cares.
The one good thing about not tasting anything is you can win all kinds of money on the playground by eating things. Things that might seem disgusting.
I was the richest kid in elementary school. I'd takle bets and then down worms or bugs or the digusting ham and peanut butter sandwich...
The children were not at school. Where were they? Unkown. I am an English teacher at a high school near Houston and, like any other weekday between late August and early June, I was expected a classroom of childen in front on me. Not on this day. The bells rangm yet I heard niothing. I saw nothng. Heck, I didn;t even smell anything! I walked out into the hallway and talked with the other teachers. Nobody had any students in their rooms. I then saw all the princiapls talking with angry words and loud voices. They didn;t seem to know...
There is no photo.
The children were not at school. It was the first snow day of the season, and the buses couldn't get their engines started, so the Board of Education had no choice but to cancel classes. Tyler's parents decided to let him sleep in, but when he awoke at 10 o'clock, Tyler panicked. He leaped out of bed, grabbed his jeans and wiggled into them, pulled a crumpled sweater from his drawer and jammed it on over his pajama shirt, and ran down the hallway to the kitchen, all the while yelling "I'm late for school! I'm late for school! Mom!...
Spinning.
As I drift towards the ground, I spin and the world spins around me. The blues and greens and browns flash past, a kaleidoscope around the carousel of my descent.
The spun silk canopy spinning with me and giving an orange glow from above as the Sun's rays find it in the blue, blue sky.
The Earth rushes up, faster now. Still spinning, I begin to tense. Remember the instructions.
Relax.
Let your legs go limp.
Tuck and roll.
The spinning stops with a thud.