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Friday, February 18, 2011

Ocean Dream #48




Ocean Dream #48

He came from the sea. His voice water, splash, spray, and crash, crash.
A lull sometimes when I’d swim on my back, legs out, arms out, starfish to his sparkle. I’d float in perfect balance when still, and then I’d dive into his lexicon. Small fish in jewel colors with intelligent eyes looked back at me, questioning. I was scared of a clown fish, swam away from it. It did not chase me as I thought.

            And then he’d speak from a mount of rocks, sea-glass words in blue, brown beer bottle glass, sometimes a broken shard from a perfume bottle that smelled of oyster shells. I’d often cut my feet on his words and get pinned in by the tide, wait on a rockery, watch condors fly with their absurd wings, wait for the ebb to dash back over to the sound’s mud. My footprints embroidered glyphs on rocks.

            He would leave me then with a few foamy words, green at the tips. I’d kayak over the wakes of this language. Sometimes I’d make it all the way in, but mostly I’d capsize, swallow salt water, cough up froth and spit and pant on the shore like some gill-less angel fish, mouth open sucking air. Then I’d wait for the storm he’d become, rainy words drizzled me and I sat in silence and listened. 

53 comments:

  1. Love it. Very vivid! I read it 3 times and each time it was more fun.

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  2. She has always been the girl that didn’t have much to say. The outcast of the group, the one nobody noticed. She reaches her senior year of high school, nothing has changed. Her life at school is only remotely better than the one she leads at home. Her mom just got a new boyfriend. He is unemployed and probably won’t stay long, like the rest. Her only way out is to run away to her dad’s house. Maybe once he sees her, he won’t make her go home. She packs her bags and boards the bus. She gives the man most of the money she’d been saving. He looks at her and notices she’s relatively young. She walks to the back of the bus quickly before he has time to say anything. She sits next to the window and looks out at the bus station. It’s dark, lonely, dirty, reminding her of home. She closes her eyes and can’t wait to escape her reality.
    The bus ride was a few hours long. She sleeps most of the way until she’s an hour away. When she sees the welcome sign, she’s sure she’d arrived. She had only been there once. When dad first took her there, he swore he’d see her often. She hadn’t seen him since. He had a wife and some kids. He had a daughter. She must’ve been about ten already. He always looked at her the way she wanted him to look at her. And his wife, she was a whole other story. Her stare was even colder than his.
    She stepped off the bus and took out her dad’s address from her pocket along with a map of the city that her dad had gotten her as a souvenir that year. She headed in that direction. A few blocks away she found her self in his front yard. It was a beautiful white house with a matching white picket fence. She walked up to the stairs slowly thinking about what she would say. As she knocked, a different man opened the door. Her dad had moved away.

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  4. Sarah stood at the edge of the building ready to jump.

    “Don’t do it Sarah!” Jess yelled hysterically.

    “No, I don’t need to be alive anymore! Everything is over! I don’t have a
    reason to be alive anymore!”

    Sarah started to walk closer to the edge of the building. “Do I really want to do this?” Sarah thought to herself. She looked down at the ground and the cars looked like ants.

    “Don’t do this! Please! Think about all your family and friends and how they will feel when you leave! This isn’t worth it! Just because of what happened today, doesn’t mean you have to die! You just feel like dying is the only escape!”

    “It is the only escape!”

    “No! It isn’t!” Jess yelled back. “You have me to help you through every second of this hardship! You have your friends, family, all these people that love and care about you!”

    Sarah looked of the edge again. “I’m just so... sad.” Tears started to roll down her face and she fell on her knees. “I really don’t want to die, but I just can’t handle all this pain.”

    Jess ran to her now that she was on her knees and she gave her a big hug.

    “It’s okay. I’ll help you through all of this. It will all be okay”

    T. Combs

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  5. I hand over my soggy five-dollar bill into the palm of the unknown man’s hand; in exchange he grabs my hand and smudges red ink on my wrist. Opening the doors of an old barnyard, I stumble into a room full of black clothed kids, spiked hairs, tangled webs, piss, cigarettes and sweat. Stepping on what could have been shit or dirt I work my way towards the sidewalls, where drunkards wave me in. Pushing past the shanty merch booth, underage kids indiscreetly chuggin’ 40’s, and young kids ready to light a joint, I get to my familiar faces. Chins high, high fives and a whad up welcome me.

    We chatter, laugh until the three fast chords are amplified though the wobbling speakers on every corner. The singer stands below a dangling microphone, power violence stance, turns to the drummer and the riffs begin to cut the air. Grabbing it with one hand he reaches towards the ceiling, and with his most pissed off face begins to sing. It isn’t long before the crowd begins to stagger around the band, closed in by screaming fans the singer sways back and forth between the eclectic generations, each one ready to take hold of the dangling microphone and sing their heart out, “No SOY Pocho!”

    The singer doesn’t mind. Its part of his plan to “create unity, a community” for the kids he says “we need some of you guys to step up. We’re getting old,” he breaths into the microphone “we can’t do this for much longer.”

    No one steps up.

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  6. “Pencils down everyone!” the teacher said. Groaning, the students put down their pencils and passed forward the test they just finished.

    “I hope you all studied hard! You cannot pass this class without passing this test!”

    The students watched the teacher walk to her paper covered desk, sit, and start grading the tests. Amelia watched the teacher wiz through the papers, watching her mark wrong answers. Her eye was twitching out of nervousness. She studied hard for this test and prayed she didn’t fail.

    Amelia scanned the dimly lit room waiting for the teacher to finish. The green chalkboard was covered in strange scribbles, and the walls looked like dung. She wriggled uncomfortably in her kindergarten-size wooden desk, watching the clock tick the seconds away.

    The teacher finished grading, and stood up, all eyes on her. She walked around the room handing out the tests to each student with a displeased look on her face. The students were not to turn over the paper until all were passed out. They waited anxiously for everyone to receive their paper. The teacher took her time.

    “Turn your papers over!”

    Amelia flipped her paper over and stared at her grade in shock. An A! Smiling, she looked around to see her classmates also smiling.
    After the class had left, Amelia went to her teacher, and saw the grade sheet. All assignments had different percentages. She found the percentage for the test, and, turns out, the test counts only for .05% of their grade.

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  7. Today would make my first year off as being a hit man. I have lived such a difficult life always on the run getting rid of people for customers. Life sure is pleasing to be able to relax, but little did I know something was about to make my whole one year off as a hit man meaningless. While I was in my apartment sitting and watching television at peace an arrow was shot into my window with magnificent speed breaking the window and going straight into the wall right next to my head. A letter was attached into the arrow and as I was reading it I knew it would be a life changing moment once again. The letter said," We are to ask for a person of your standards for a little assignment that we have for you. You are to show up and meet us at least to negotiate or we will make your life very miserable." I did not know what to think, my life was already miserable, but I did want to live at peace for a while so I decided to go and see what this assignment was. I drove and found the place in a big factory that was across town. A middle aged man appeared: with facial hair that was gray, not a very tall man I would say and looked very wealthy. He did not mention his name to me at least once, but he went straight forward to his point and told me to get into the small plane that was behind him with him. I walked up into the jet stairs and looked back and I did not believe what i was getting into once again. "Can I ever find peace and live a normal life without killing off others."

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  8. When my grandmother started calling me Julia I simply ignored it. I was the exact replica of my mother and my grandmother was in her nineties. Living with her had been a blessing to me simply because I had been able to stay in my home when my parents died.

    I stood in the rain now, holding my tears back. I remembered what my father had always told me when I was a kid: “Don’t cry, Tala. Crying is for the weak.”As a result, I could not remember a time during my childhood when I had cried.

    As I stood next to complete strangers in the cemetery I chanced a glance at the casket as it was lowered into the ground. I didn’t want to imagine my grandmother in it. I didn’t want to remember that she was the last relative I had. I didn’t want to remember that I was going to go into the custody of the state. I felt nauseous and tried to hold onto what my father had said.

    I walked home to pack my things into the few duffel bags I had. I ran into my grandmother’s room and took the dream catcher I had made her in the seventh grade off the headboard of her bed. I waited on the rainy porch for a social worker to pick me up and take me to the courthouse where my fate would be decided.

    But I didn’t cry.

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  9. Crazy
    Everyone in town always stayed clear of her. She was an odd one; some say she spent 20 years in the crazy house up north. In her younger years she was a beautiful young, and had many young and old men after her love. For she had only eyes for James Holman, a young cadet from San Francisco. They were to be wed, when a terrible accident at sea took young James life.
    Mary spent 5 years locked up in her house dressed in her wedding gown. It wasn’t until a sister from New York, came to visit her. That her sister Helen made the decision to commit her to the insane asylum. Helen did not want Mary to be left alone. Mary in despair agreed to go, not knowing that it would be 20 years that she would be locked up in the insane asylum. Mary would never be the same.

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  10. She felt her tears falling. But she kept replaying the heated argument she had with her mom and step father. He’d gotten drunk again, and he’d ruined her 18th birthday party. Her mother had forgave him, but she could never. It wasn’t that he’d ruined her party, it wasn’t that it was her 18th birthday party, but it was because this was the third time. She was tired of forgiving. They weren’t mistakes anymore, they were repeats.
    “Where are you going to go?” Her mother asked, rolling her eyes at her daughter.
    “With dad, a few days. Maybe move to San Francisco and have a fresh start there.”
    “You don’t even have money. Please don’t do this. I truly am sorry.” her step dad said.
    “Tell someone who cares. I’m done forgiving. It’s time I found my own life, with out you messing it up. And mom, stop settling down. Your so afraid of being alone . It’s okay to be alone sometimes. You don’t need a husband to be happy.” she picked up her bags and headed out the door. With one last glance at her mother, she turned back to her car and slipped in.
    There was no doubts in her mind, no regrets, no fears. She didn’t know if she’d make it on her own. She was only 18 after all. But she knew she had to try and get out of this life before she got stuck in it. She would fight with out them.

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  11. The Chase

    I was speeding through the streets. Again, for the third time today I was being chased by the police. Why couldn't they just leave me alone. The brand new sports car had now been turned to scraps. Her bright red paint scratch all over. Her lights and her figure had all been crushed. Her tinted black windows all smashed into tiny bits. Time after time they came smashing into her. Luckily her sleek black leather seats were still intact.

    I raced to my hideout. Three times I had been able to lose them but I wondered how many more times they would chase me. I would have to wait until nightfall to finish this job. All I had to do was reach the outskirts of the city and leave it for that vile man.However, with these creeps following me I might not be able.

    The night had finally arrived. I took off, faster and faster I went through each street. Once again, they had found me and start the chase. Five minutes more and I would reach my goal. In these five minutes I had to lose them once again, but how would I do it. I started taking different streets, turning violently trying to lose them. Yes, luck was on my side today. I was able to lose them. This was my last job. I wouldn't have to do this anymore and I could get rid of this debt. I was finally going to be set free.

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  13. Taking time off of a clock seemed pointless, it wasn’t even possible to make time irrelevant from a simple clock, but maybe she could do it. Sometimes, as she played it out in her head, it seemed as though it may work. Julie gently took the clock off of the wall. Her dad loved to hang it in the center of the room so that he could always be on time, always have a schedule and force everyone else to have one as well. Freaked out, paranoid if time was wasting or if almost late. But Julie, well, she was tired of living that life. She took off the glass cover and placed it to the side. She attempted to change the dials on the back of this black clock but it was one of those clocks to be correct regardless of an outing of electricity or if some girl just wanted to act as though time doesn’t exist.
    She grasped a hold of the clock hands and detached it with all her might. Taking it off was a struggle, but it worked. Crack. Still about 1 centimeter was peering through. She wanted it all off. She kept pulling on it until it detached.
    For some reason, her dad knew it was happening. Maybe she was too loud. He ran into the room looked at the center of the wall for the clock, sheer habit. After realizing that it wasn’t there he saw Julie on the rocking chair with her head bent down and the clock on her lap.
    “Julie! What have you done? That clock meant everything to me!” He scolded her.
    “Exactly.”

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  14. As she pulled into the small parking lot, she forced her eyes to see and focus into the scene in the coffee shop. The whole drive over had been a blur. She didn’t even remember it. She turned off the car and grabbed her phone. After taking a few breaths in, she got out and walked towards the shop. As she opened the door, she quickly glanced around. Finally, she felt some relief. She quickly made her way over to the farthest table sat in the corner, waiting. Her patience was very thin. She realized how anxious she was as she felt her leg shaking back and forth. She tried with all her might to relax and hold it together, at least through the next half an hour.

    There she was, a woman in a pink shirt, it had to be Christina. Christina was a beautiful, curvy woman with long curly hair. Her presence called everyone’s attention. Men, women, even the kids all seemed to stop and look at her.

    “White shirt, you must be Lilly.” Christina said.

    The woman in white tried all she could to make her leg stop shaking and to keep her cool. She kept the serious look on her face. No expression necessary. All she wanted to do was hear whatever this pink lady had to say to her and get out of there.

    “We obviously need to keep this a short as possible.” Lilly said.

    “Lilly, we have a lot to discuss.”

    “We don’t have to discuss anything, you just need to tell me what you know and then we can move on with our lives,” Lilly huffed.

    “Well, I don’t think you will be able to move on with your life after I just blurt out what I know about your husband,” Christina said, trying to be as sensitive and understanding as she could.

    Lilly’s heart dropped. She could feel her tears starting to flood her eyes. She couldn’t look at the other woman anymore; instead she just starred at her ring. It was the one thing that meant so much to her, that now just symbolized a marriage full of lies.

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  15. "Just one more time Joey. Come one, strap those cleats on the old dogs for the last time and you're home free and clear." I say to myself while I sit in locker room filled with pictures from memories past.

    I'm a young 43 year old but my bones feel like they are 68. The cartilage is slowly leaving my knees and elbows with every passing through. My glory days are past me and all I can think about is keeping my house.

    "Maybe I shouldn't have lived so lavished." I think to myself.

    "Back in 81' I thought the money would never stop pouring in. Back then I was the man. Oh don't get me wrong I'm still the man. I'm the man with a mortgage, ex-wife and 2 daughters who needs my support."

    1981 was a long time ago, but I know I pull this off I get my player bonus. I will go out guns blazing and my family can have that happily ever after ending they always wanted.

    "You ready Montana!" says coach Walsh.
    Estevan Garza

    Flash Fiction

    "Just about. I just need a few seconds. my arm is tight coach." I reply.

    Slowly I begin to pull my infamous number 16 jersey over my chest and back. I make sure not to strain my joints. As I approach the field entrance of candlestick and I begin to hear the crowd chant. Niners! Niners! Niners!

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  16. I propped the door open and as we walked outside into the staging platform, with my sweaty palms and my heart pounding out my chest, I took several deep breaths. “Okay guys, you’re on in 60 seconds!” The prop guy yelled out to me, though I could barely hear him through the loud cheering of the crowd.
    Sixty seconds, it’s all it takes to remember how we got here exactly. From small little coffee shops in our home town, and practicing in my dad’s garage for countless hours, now to distant amphitheaters and civil centers states away from home. Every second now counts in my life. “These are moments I’ll remember for the rest of my life!” I told myself grabbing my guitar and checking the strap-locks.
    How could this be that only half a year ago we received a phone call from a well known producer in Los Angeles to be contracted under the world’s biggest record label, and now we’re preparing to pour our souls out to the thousands of fans just behind this curtain cheering our names on? No time to think here we go the lights are out.
    And as the curtains are drawn I the other guys walking on stage following Dan our drummer, I realize this is what I was made for, I’ve been gifted with these talents, and I’m going to use them, not only to satisfy a massive crowd but also to possibly change lives.
    “What’s up Georgia!? You guys ready to have some fun tonight!? Here we go!”

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  17. My name is Jethro Lense, and today is the day my family is burying my father. It would be easy to get lost in who my father was, and what happened to him, but that’s not what this part of the story is about. Throughout the last four days, everyone around me has been falling apart, and I can’t blame them. Honestly I would like nothing more to crawl into a ball, and let the whole world disappear, but I can’t. It’s not just me standing here, honoring a good man, my brothers and sisters are here too. As they stumble around the graveyard, or sway in one place numbed by drugs and alcohol, I almost resent them and their muted misery, but someone had to stand here and shake everyone’s hands, someone still has to stand here next to Mom and be the pillar she can cling to as this tragedy unfolds.
    The minister has already given the major part of the sermon, and the last person just walked across the front of the coffin and left a rose on Dad’s coffin. There were a whole mound of them, and I almost laugh it them. Dad hated roses, he had hated them since Grandma died back when we were little kids, and he had to stay in her house for three days, surrounded by them while he dug around all her stuff looking for her will, and now he’s going to be buried under a mound of them.
    I eyed Dad’s coffin, waiting for the smell of the roses to sink inside it, and cause my dad to literally roll over in his grave as the minister blathers on about more stuff about god’s will, and peaceful eternity. Then he changes the topic to mention Dad’s service in the military, and the history of the twenty one gun salute as the service men march in precision and come to a halt. I take a deep breath and slowly exhale as my arm gets another round of tears from my mom, and all I can think of are two words. “Be Strong.”
    BANG!!!
    Suddenly I’m three again and David, my older brother just pushed from the teeter totter, saying I’m not big enough, and that I should go play with the girls so I’m out of the way. Dad’s there in an instant and drags him over to timeout before coming back to me and telling me “Jetty, it don’t matter how small of a man you are, if you live like you ten feet tall, you will be.”
    Then I’m back in the first row of the funeral, and my throut won’t open.
    BANG!!!
    I’m thirteen and I just had my heart broken, I haven’t eaten for two days. I’m so tired, but every time I close my eyes, I see Angie Rodriguez, walking right passed me, without a single explanation as she falls into the arms of Stephen Brady. Dad walks into my room, and I barely acknowledge him as he sits down and places his hand comfortingly my head. “I’m sorry Jetty, but one day, when you least expect it, you’ll find love again. The funny thing is when love really hits you, it’ll be more intense than the loss your feeling now, and trust me it’s something you’d gladly kill to never do without.”
    Mom’s squeezes my arm tighter. I didn’t think she had that much strength, but it’s secondary to the fact that I can’t fucking breath! I suck in staggered short breaths and my eyes start to water. Be strong, BE STRONG!!!

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  18. BANG!!!
    I’m 25, it is a couple of years ago and nothing is going right, I got my degree and nothing is happening, I searched for jobs, even submitted my application to businesses in other states, but no one is willing to take a “kid” right out of college. Everything is supposed to fall into place; it’s what I’ve always been told. You put in the work, and something comes out of it so what the hell is going wrong. I stormed out of the house and walked to my car. I need to get out; I need to get away, and just as I turn the engine over and am about to throw the car into reverse Dad sits in the passenger seat and puts his hand over mine and the stick shift. “Jetty, sometimes things don’t work out the way we planned them. It doesn’t mean we failed, it just means we have to try something else, we have to try a little harder.”
    Oh god I’m dying. I can’t breathe…my hear-my heart feels like it tore it’s self-free of my lungs, and I’m slowly dying. My eyes – My eyes feel like they are on fire, and I want to rub them with sand paper to make the pain go away. Why did you die you bastard, why did you leave us when we still needed you? When I still needed you? You left me, and now I can’t show you that I can do it, I can’t show you I can be ten feet tall, I can’t bring the love of my life home to you, and show you I can be a great husband and father because of what you taught me. What am I supposed to do now you son of bitch? How am I going to make you proud now?
    I sat there with my eyes closed tight falling apart in my own little world. “Jetty sweetie, it’s ok.” Mom whispers. “You don’t have to be ten feet tall now.”
    I had enough strength to look up once into her eyes, and said between gasps “I tried Mom, I tried to be what he wanted me to be, but he’ll never see it, I’ll never get to show him…”
    “No Jetty, don’t worry about that.” She said, gaining strength with each word. “Don’t let what we can never have ruin everything he was able to give us.”
    I stopped breathing, it took a few seconds for what she said to sink in, and I took a deep breath and let all the love, faith, and hope my father showed, and instilled in me over the brief time we had together rush in with it. All the pain, fear and remorse over this whole event receded from me instilling a relief, like when an infect wound is lanced and all of the puss runs out. I stood up and walked over to the coffin as it was being lowered, I looked down at the wooden box that contained the remains of my father, and let myself say goodbye. “Thanks for everything Dad, I love you.”

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  19. Imagine Brad Pitt’s southern accent:

    JOHN: BRAD PITT

    Year: 1971

    I wake up and do the same thing every day. I get up, take a shower and get ready for work. I make breakfast for my son every morning. Jake likes the Belgian waffle with one over-easy egg and two slices of bacon. I love my boy and I want the best life for him. I’m a single parent living in Rock Hill, South Carolina. I’m Dr. John Evans and I’m a professor of Psychology at Winthrop University. Jake and I moved here to Rock Hill when my girlfriend Annabeth, left me back home in New Jersey. She left when Jake was about a year-old. We wanted to start a new life and leave behind the unpleasant memories of the past.

    Jake and I take the trolley to work and school.

    John: Flashback: Annabeth was a drunk sitting on the couch watching television. I’m holding the baby “Hey, honey, can you help me please? The baby won’t stop crying…”

    I put down the baby gently in the white crib to get some warm milk. I put warm blankets around the baby so he doesn’t roll around. Annabeth walks into the baby’s room and says, “Shut up! Shut up!” The baby starts crying even more. She loses her mind and gets a big pillow and puts it on the baby’s face and tries to suffocate the baby. I walk in scared and shocked, “What the hell are you doing, Anna?!” I grab the baby and start yelling at her. “You know what fine! Keep the stupid baby! I’m leaving! …I hate you John!” Annabeth screams. That’s the last thing she said to me.

    Trolley’s horn blows.

    “Daddy, Daddy!” Jake wakes his dad from his flashback. “Yeah, buddy?” I asked. “That man that looks like santy clause wants our tickets.” Jake said pointing at the man across the room. “Hello, sir, may I see your tickets?” said the ticket man. I give him the tickets. I look at Jake and smile, “Your right, he does look like santa clause.” We both giggle.

    The trolley stops. “Alright, buddy. Here’s your stop. Be good little man, I’ll pick you up on time.” I said.

    “Alright, dad I’ll be here.” Jake walks away. Jake turns around yells, “Hey dad!” I turn around and he says, “I love you.” I smile and say, “I love you too buddy. Have a good day.” Jake smiles and runs to the door to class.

    As I’m walking to Winthrop University it is only four blocks away from Jake’s school. I always think about getting married to a woman that will be good for a wife and good mother for Jake. He deserves to get the love of a mother… something Annabeth couldn’t give him. I wish someday God will answer my prayers and bless me with a miracle.

    A few months later, I went to a café to grab some coffee with a colleague of mine. As I was standing in line, a bright shined in my eye and it blinded me for a second and I tilt my head to see what it was and a beautiful women was sitting down at a round table near a window reading a book holding it on her right hand and holding a butter knife on her left hand. She was eating hot waffles with bacon and eggs just like me and Jake like.

    She had beautiful long brown hair with bangs straight across, tanned skin, slim body and perfect lips, she wore reading glasses, wore a nice white button blouse with a black skirt and leggings. Her black pea coat was lying on her chair. Absolute stunning piece of work she is.

    She felt someone staring so she turned and caught me gazing at her and gave me a smile. From then on, I knew.

    “Hey, man, what are you looking at?” my colleague asked. I smiled and said, “My future wife.”

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  20. I’m not what you would call a typical girl. I enjoy reading Edgar Allen Poe and writing angst ridden teenage poetry. You would not catch me in pink if my life depended on it since everything I own is black. Black, you see, is my favorite color; my hair and nails are black along with a black cross I wear constantly. Perhaps this is where it all began. My mother died a week ago and was forced to move in with my dead beat dad who my mom referred to, when she was alive, as the “sperm donor”. He lived about fifteen minutes away and to my great displeasure I realized I would have to transfer schools. At my old school it was bad enough being invisible but at least there people had pretty much gotten to the point where they ignored me now rather then actually acknowledging me. When I walked in the school the first day, I got the typical I’m-the-new-goth-crazy-chick stereotype plastered on my forehead within two minutes of being at school. In my homeroom I sat toward the back not paying attention to the crowed around me. When I sat down I heard a voice next to me.
    “Hey! I’m Avan. Cool t-shirt.”
    The room got quiet but he didn’t care about the stares or wispers. This could not be happening. Cute guy talking to me?! Maybe living with my dad won’t be the worst thing in the world. Avan, I like the sound of that.

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  21. Quiet Classroom

    The class says nothing as she breathes fire

    I am alone facing the words of anger

    The camera records every detail of the confrontation

    She asks why I haven’t finished the assignment

    I have no words so I stay quiet

    Her voice gets louder and my shoulders get squarer

    I am embarrassed and ashamed

    The class just listens and I just shutter

    She finishes her rant and leaves me alone

    I feel tiny and inadequate

    To be yelled at in such a way

    Feels cold as hell

    -Abraham

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  22. Please and thank you
    Upon opening her eyes, Samantha remembered she was not where she had to be. She had only closed her eyes for a second, only to find some peace in the silence that followed closing her eyes. After a long morning of being told what to do, she would take great pleasure in closing her eyes, the only place that could not be invaded, if only for a second. Sleep had taken over her and now she was comfortably tucked in bed but quickly glancing at the digital clock, she realized it was long before bedtime. She threw the blankets off and rubbing her eyes, she lifted herself up. She angrily stormed out of the room and entered the living room where someone was in her place. Now it made sense. No one had waked her up because they wanted her place.

    “I see you’re up honey,” her mom said with a smile.

    “Why is he watching the TV? It’s my turn” she said sweetly.

    “You fell asleep.”

    “Hey, it was my turn.” She whined at her brother.

    “Now it’s mine. He replied, sticking his tongue out at her.

    “Can I please have another turn?” she turned to her mom.

    “Since you asked so nicely, you can have two turns.”

    Samantha climbed to the top of the stool and gratefully smiled at her mother, feeling triumphant.

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  23. yeah here is my California poem.

    This place that has an image of movie stars is not so glamorous.
    This state has Gangsters, crooked cops, and its extremely over populated.
    It does produce a lot of food in our fields.
    Good people who say "good morning" or "buenos dias".
    it has the ocean where the surfurs wait for that perfect wave.
    While people drive in their cars listening to the bay music.
    people going to the movies and seeing people who become someone on the screen
    looking back at this state's history it brings ,some, excitement to learn that something happened here.
    even though it looks like the beginning of the end, it looks better by the ocean smoking medical marijuana.

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  24. Bill Hutchinson was about to finally plop down on his favorite, worn out chair, and catch up on the week's news on his lap top when his son sulked into the room, face scrunched up like he just ate a whole lemon. At first, Bill was hesitant to say something, he just wanted time to himself, but he couldn't stand seeing his youngest son looking so sad.

    "Hey buddy, why so gloom? Did you miss a Yo Gabba Gabba episode or something?"

    Bill's son didn't reply. He simply climbed on to the sofa and stared at the floor. Now Bill knew something was really wrong.

    "Aw, come on, you can tell me. Whats the matter little guy?" Bill wasn't as good with his kids as he hoped he would be.

    Bill Jr. continued to stare, then after a brief pause, he said rather un-proud:

    "Tyler said that I suck at kickball."

    This did not come as a surprise to Bill. First, Tyler Roberts was a spoiled brat. Second, Bill Jr. really did suck at kick ball. He had completely inherited all of Bill's nonathletic genes. But Bill realized his son needed some cheering up, so he said the first thing that came to mind:

    "Who the fuck cares what Tyler Roberts thinks?"

    He instantly regretted this. But now he had to go with it. Before his son could get the giggle fits over him saying a naughty word, Bill continued.

    "Seriously, it doesn't matter what any one thinks of you son. Here, let's play a game, ok? I'm gonna close my eyes and think something about you, and we'll see what happens, ok?"

    "Ok..."

    "Ok, right now I am thinking that you're a rock. A big, gray, rock! Yes, you're just a big rock, that's what I think!"

    "But dad I'm not a rock..."

    "Exactly! Ok...now I am thinking that you're a hippopotamus. Yeah, my son is a big fat hippopotamus! Well, are you? Are you a hippopotamus? Has anything changed since I started thinking that?"

    "No, nothing happened....that's dumb."

    "Exactly! You see son, no matter what I think, it doesn't effect you in any way! I could think anything about you and there would be no real changes. You are exactly the same! Do you get it?"

    Bill Jr. looked at Bill blankly for a second, and then burst into tears.

    "You think I'm faaaaaaaaaaaaat!"

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  25. The sand was too hot and the water, too cold. My burning feet, instantly numbed by the thrashing waves curled, engraving the sand with imprints of oddly gnarled feet. I crossed my arms and rubbed my dampened fingers across my shoulders. Broken seashells, messy wind-blown hair, and a fifty dollar parking ticket acted as our memorabilia. Salty drenched towels filled my trunk with the smell of rotten crab carcasses and beach bum feet. I inhaled warm air from the heater in my car and exhaled breath that shivered in my throat.

    The light turned red and the back windows receded, allowing a steady passage of cool, eight o’clock air to stream through my car. Goosebumps traveled across my arms and legs, leaving me looking like a freshly plucked chicken. I turned my head with a perturbed look to have it be ignored. Reluctantly, I switched my heater to the off mode. No sense in wasting warm air on unappreciative passengers.

    As we zoomed through town, I dropped off my brother’s friends one by one. They talked, laughed, played their favorite ringtones aloud so everyone could hear…whether they wanted to or not. After finally being rid of the last one I headed home at a quickening speed. To savor the luxury of complete silence and a warm bath would be like a vacation in heaven after tasting the icy tongue of death, lunging itself down my throat. My brother didn’t thank me as we pulled into the driveway. He never did, no matter how many favors I completed. I could bend over and carry him on my back like a mule for the rest of his life and he would never be content, let alone grateful. My crooked parked car, my running feet…a preoccupied shower and a night with grainy sand in my hair and ocean on my breath.

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  26. I thought she was my friend
    But when I open up
    She could not keep a secreat
    I thought she would be someone I can finaly trust
    Insted she was the one to teach
    me not to trust any one
    After the trust was broken
    the only person I trust is me.

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  27. This is the class poem my Poetry class wrote about California, each student contributed one line:
    California
    Swimming at the beach in warm, blue, toasty water. Cutoffs and sunglasses. Seagulls in the parking lot. An aquarium with a Galapagos shark and seahorses. Everything you need to make a yummy salad. Changing weather: snow into sun into rain, bi-polar. Sunsets in blobs of orange, red, yellow, next day blue, purple, green. Oceans are cold great white sharks and eels. Old prudes in sports cars. Home. California is food to me: Mexican, Indian, American, it's all here. Redwoods and gentle streams. It's coastal hills vary like her will some of the tops twist away in the eastern wind reversing destiny to a lowly flat. Rolling green hills sprinkled with lupine. Stereotyped as perfect. Constant shopping. In and out. Cherry blossoms in February. Stars on boulevards. People say good morning or buenos dias just because you're there. Mountains filled with snow. Sunny weather. California poppies pop. Diverse cultures. It's it ice-cream. Watching Full House. Hollywood to Hollywhore the place where simplicity isn't enough, they all want more. The fog.

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  28. The Long Journey

    The doctor had pulled me outside into the hall. I remember the doctor well. He had the kindest eyes, the softest voice and a face so angelic, all this overshadowed as he delivered the bad news. “Your mom will have to stay on the morphine; no other medicines seem to be working. She can either stay here or go home”. Recalling the conversation I had with my mom 6 months ago I said, “home”. “Oh and she will need to go home with hospice aide”. The words struck my heart and I couldn’t wrap my brain around this chaos. I knew that this moment would happen but I couldn’t believe it was THIS moment. We took her fragile body home, her body resting comfortably as the morphine circulated through her body. The next couple of days would haunt my memories forever. Mom would wake up reaching for someone, anyone to relieve her pain. Mumbling, grasping for air, trying to tell someone she was in pain. In those moments I would quickly shove the morphine in her mouth. Her face clinched in pain and anguish, mouth moving a hundred miles a minute, wanting to say one word, if not a whole paragraph, but no sound. I could not stand to see her suffer. I asked the nurse to start a morphine drip. I stood vigil by her bedside. Before her last nap she gustered up enough strength to kiss my cheek and tell me to get her things ready. Her last words to me. She closed her eyes once more only to never open them again. Every hour on the hour I pushed the button to give the maximum dose of morphine. It was hard for your daughter to push the button that pushed your life closer to death. I pushed the it to give you rest and dignity you so deserved. When her body grew tired she finally let go. No regrets because I stood alongside of her all the way to the end.

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  29. For me most of the day was a normal day in the end of November, normal worries of school and life. Her being gone changed everything but that wasn’t the main issue of the day, my mom didn’t tell me and of all people I should’ve known as soon as the news came out. The tears that came after weren’t just one’s of sadness and mourning but tears of anger. Anger because again I was the child that was to be protected from the truth, a child that I no longer was.

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  30. I still remember the last time I saw you, a month exactly after we parted ways, you snuck up on me that cold winter night as I was getting home. We took a walk that night, but it wasn't the same, you said you loved me, I messed up, and said some things out loud. I hurt you, you snapped, I saw the look in your eyes, cold, expressionless, the eyes of a killer, you swore you'd never let go. Broken promises, things left unsaid, I still think of you, I never meant for this, it was an honest mistake.

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  31. Room

    The master suite on the downstairs level, tucked away just under the stairs behind a white door.
    You enter into my sanctuary filled with dog toys, a borrowed ladder, my chesire cat rug, and movie posters on the wall that keep falling down as the months go on almost as if they anticipate that soon we will be leaving.
    My goldfish swim merrily inside their burbling tank located next to incense and above my TV.
    My two tables in bright orange and purple constantly covered in ash and the various objects that are placed there on a rotating daily basis.
    My green leather chair with the broken back and missing arm. The one that creates a hole in the wall every time you recline. The one that gives you the advantage of hearing people creep down the stairs.
    My stationary bike gathering dust that blocks my two bookcases.
    My bed without any frame so that I just fall into bed every night. My walk-in closet that holds art, paintings, clothes, jewelry, figurines, stuffed animals, shoes and the linens of the house.
    My room is my sanctuary. My room is my home.

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  32. Kris spent most weeks following a usual routine consisting of school, work, and the gym. Her life lacked excitement except for when he was around. He was Ben, and Ben was Kris' longtime boyfriend who recently moved away for college. Kris knew he left to do something positive with his life but that didn’t stop her from missing him constantly. They were each other’s best friend and since they were separated, it was hard for Kris to find life fulfilling without sharing every moment together. The depression really got to her and she didn’t know what to do; she couldn't handle the constant crying any longer. Ben saw how their separation was affecting her and he tried his best to make her feel loved but he knew he could only do so much from miles away so he came up with a plan…

    One Friday morning Ben showed up on Kris' front doorstep and asked her to come with him, she agreed . Ben took her out to their favorite spot on the beach, pulled out a ring and placed it on her finger. He explained to her that the promise ring she was now wearing was a symbol of his commitment and deep love for her. He planned to marry her someday and the ring made that clear. Kris felt a rush of confidence come over her. She felt now more than ever that they could withstand the next few years apart because she knew they had a lifetime together ahead of them.

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  33. The feeling is gone in my right calf muscle but I’m still going for it with all I have left in me because I know that when it’s all done the pain will last for a few seconds but the thought of what could have been will last forever. I hear the crowd screaming after I crossed the finish line; “did he win?”, “did the other guy beat him?” all the same questions where going through my head. They called out all our names at the end of the race to show respect for the athletes. “Adonis Singletary…” as soon as they got to me I wanted to fall on the ground because of the suspense. All I kept doing is thinking back to al the hard training I have done; the long nights of trying to better myself. And now im here at the big stage. Nationals , many people hear about but few ever go, and I’m here amongst the few, who put everything down on the line to get here and they weren’t going to just walk away with 2nd place. But I thought to myself they haven’t done what I did to get here all the countless days going through harsh training I earned my spot on that podium, holding up the first trophy, for years I have been waiting for the moment to stand tall with the gold medal around my neck, it is my time. The announcer finished with all names and sayed aloud “it was a very close race all the participants fought bravely to the end. And Adonis singletary won by a lean.”

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  35. Cybil did not want to die, but Osiris had already decided her fate. She was a mere pawn in the game between Gods and they did not consider her much more. She was chosen at random apparently to decide who was best. The “game” went on for months of Gods trying to kill, woo, tempt, manipulate, and hypnotize her into doing things. Mostly, she had just made them mad because she was smarter than their tricks. Even Athena had to give her credit after a game of chess.
    There was one God who had won her over: Anubis. He was sent to be her guardian and he had stayed with her constantly through all the “games”. She had resented him at first, and felt she could take care of herself but she had grown to like him and now he was stuck in Limbo because of her.
    She felt Osiris appear behind her, and didn't turn to see him. “You need him back don't you?”
    “It is crucial to our society that he returns.”
    “That's why you picked me to play your game? You knew that was his fate, and you needed someone who would fall in love with him enough that she would give up her life to release him from there?”
    “Exactly.”
    “It would be more painful to live without him, than to die and be with him forever.”
    With that, Osiris took her life, so that they're fates would be always together.

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  36. Davy ran. His feet were small and frantic. His hair surrounded his face like a mess of brown weeds, covering his eyes and disrupting his vision. But he didn’t need to see. He knew where he was going. His feet, would take him there, for they knew the path well.
    He arrived just in time to see the head roll off the tree stump. The limp body toppled over onto the mossy floor as the axmen wiped the sweat from his brow. An old woman wailed a prayer and a few noblemen clapped their hands and Davy’s heart harmonized with the beat of their applause. The tears streamed his face and burned his skin with the agony they carried with them. Two men approached him silently and tried to carry him off.
    “Next up, the next in kin!” yelled a nobleman from behind a mulberry bush. Laughter roared like thunder through the small crowd of men, women and children, who came closer for a better view.
    “No! You can’t!” cried Davy. He was a frightened boy of eleven years, who had been born, with the burden of mixed blood.
    “Anyone associated with the clan of this man here,” the axmen pointed on the ground to the fresh corpse, “is ordered to be sentenced to an immediate death, by right of the natural world.”
    The natural world, Davy thought. He meant those who were human had the right to destroy those who were not. Elves, gnomes, even fairies, as pleasant as they were, would be destroyed by their natural right. He saw only one way out of this.
    “But please! That man wasn’t my father!” Davy announced upon reaching the execution stump.
    Based upon a technicality and, the inability to provide proof of bloodline connecting Davy to his father, Davy was released and allowed to live another day in the natural world.

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  38. Thomas was always a quiet kid who never wanted the center of attention, he always tried to do the right thing and would always be on the court chasing his dream of one day becoming an NBA player. While growing up in the streets of Virginia near D.C., Thomas encountered many problems including trying to be lured in by his friends to join them in selling drugs on the daily, but he never gave in to the temptation of the fast life because he saw what drugs did to his older brother who was killed over drugs when he was a youngster. He found peace and dreams on the basketball court where he flourished into a star and was highly recruited by some of the top schools in the nation, he chose to go west and attended the University of Kentucky which wasn't something his younger brother or mother were fond of at all. His first year and a half as a student athlete were hectic and he struggled to flourish on the court and off the court, but there was one drastic event that changed his whole mentality. A day before a huge rivalrly game he received a call from his brother who was in tears he screamed to Thomas, "Momma just was killed minutes ago", Thomas replied in a scream, "No!". He fell to his knees and didnt know how to react, he contacted his coach and told him, "You dont know coach, I dont have anyone back home except for my brother". The game was a day away and Thomas was up the whole crying, thinking of what to do, he woke up with a whole new mentality and wanted to be the man his younger brother needed and suited up for the game and played his heart out arguably having one of the greatest games in college basketball history

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  39. Don’t think about… don’t think about it… don’t think about it! A young man who looked about twenty-three sat on a park bench with an oh-shit-I-screwed-up look on his face. Don’t think…. Someone sat down next to him and he looked up to see if he knew the person, Shit! The person who had just interviewed him sat down next to him, he tried to pretend that he did’t notice her, but he couldn’t help but keep looking up at her. He tried to nonchalantly clear his throat to see if she would notice him, no response. He slumped his head down again, and then decided it would be best if he were to just leave, hopefully unnoticed.


    As he got up she looked up, Oh? Was all that she could think of. He was almost out of hearing range when she called out to him. He kept walking as if he didn’t hear her, so she called out to him again. This time he turned around with an is-someone-calling-for-me look on his face. He looked around and when he saw his interviewer waving to him all he could think was Shit. He waved back a bit hesitantly, he didn’t know if she wanted him to come back or not, so he started to turn back to ‘test the waters’ when she waved him over.


    Ok, act cool don’t bring it up. He slowly walked back to her and the first words out of her mouth was, “We decided to hire you!”

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  40. I stopped and began to retrace my recently dug tunnel. I dread the tunnels and this underground life. I continued on my path. My heart was throbbing from the recent revelation of Clyde and Penelope becoming a couple. Prairie dogs get broken hearts. I knew it was foolish to think I could have a chance, too small and too young, too much of a dreamer.

    That daylight sure looked good. I thought I should take a peek and see what the rest of the prairie creatures are up to. Wow just what I was thinking, too nice to be underground. Such a nice day. I should take a stroll, get out of this mess, regain my thoughts on how to get Ms. Penelope's attention, maybe foolish to think so. This is frowned upon by the elders for safety. I just wanted to keep walking away from misery. Leave my broken heart and broken dreams in that burrow.

    I turned to see a shadow from above and was blinded by the sun. Next, I heard was a high pitch scream. And now I am here, above the clouds seeing the world I could never see from the burrows, with this claw in my belly. The heartache from Miss Penelope covers the pain of this claw. It will soon be gone, my misery from life in the burrow gone as well. I did get to see the world and from above! I did get to see it all as I wanted to.

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  41. They were down 28-3 at halftime of the football championship game and the group of high schoolers looked defeated. The coach walked into the room, speechless. This game was win it all or leave with nothing.

    "You know, it would be like me to come into the room, scold you, and send you back out there to play" the coach said to his team. "But, you have to understand something. When I would come in here and yell it was because I knew that you guys had a lot more in you then you showed. I want you to know it wasn't because I was mad at the score but it was because you weren't living up to your potential." His team looked up at him. They knew that they could play better.

    "In life, you will come across unfavorable situations where you can fight with everything you have or you can lay down and quit. I look at myself as a football coach. However, I also look at myself as someone who is preparing you for life. Instead of going over game plan, I want to teach you a life lesson because for some of you seniors this will be the last time we are all here together." The coach had the full attention of every person in that room.

    "We have 24 minutes left of playing time. However, you have a whole life to go out there and change everything. When you leave this room, I want you to go out to whatever you do and win. But it's not the win you are thinking about. You see winning isn't the fact that at the end of the game, you have the privilege of hoisting up that trophy in front of thousands of people. It's about, at the end of the game, you can tell yourself that you gave everything you had to yourself, your coaches, and to your teammates. If in the end, no matter the score, you can say that you gave it your all then gentlemen you have won. Now lets go out there and fight!" the coach yelled as the team yelled back. They threw their helmets on and when out there to win, just like their coach had said.

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  42. We all turned our heads to see the man in uniform walk over to the doors. From my position in the front, I have the perfect position ahead of all the other excited people, and I can tell this is going to be intense. I start a countdown in my head. Ten, nine, eight, he’s almost at the doors, six, five, I can already feel everyone pushing forward in anticipation, two… One.
    All the bodies slam into me. In a matter of seconds I’m on the floor, I hear people screaming, and I feel feet trampling all around me and some on top of me. I hear someone calling my name, but when I look up, all I can see are blurred legs and feet.
    Quickly, I put my hands down on the floor and shove my body up. People make annoyed sounds as I start to shove my way up and out of the herd. After taking a second to assess any damage to my body, fortunately there is none, I realize why I’m here.
    Without thinking, I hurtle back into the throng. I ram through the crowd, past the man in uniform who is trying to keep order by holding everyone off, and, by some miracle, I manage to be the first one into the theater. I choose the best seat in the house and save an extra five seats for my friends. I’ve never been to a midnight showing of a movie before, but so far, it’s been pretty fun.

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  43. My Dear Best Friend

    I don’t know how she can be in love of him after everything that happened. Carla my best friend. She is a sweet, kind, sometimes a cranky person; that it’s her personality, a Cancer. For me she is one of the most wonderful person that I’ve known but her biggest fault is that she fall in love of every single guy she dates and it kills me see her crying every single time.
    This time she met a guy about 4 years ago. He was the cousin of a friend of us BUT they met online through the network media. I won’t say which one because I do not want that my friend if she one day read this, she would get mad about the story. When they met each other, they talked once in a while nothing beyond that. Then, she left the country to do her post grad studies; she was happily in the foreign country until, she called me one night crying and crying saying: DUDE! I am coming back.
    I was stunned when she said that to me and I said: OK I will see you next week, calm down and be happy because you are coming back.
    [To not go into the details of her arrival, I keep telling the story]
    One day he saw him online, and tells him: Hi!! I am back; after that day they keep talking and talking everyday day, three times a day, pending form each other, all of this just by phone due to they live in different cities. One month ago they decided to meet each other in person. Last week she travels to his city. In a long time I haven’t see her so happy but at the same nervous and glued to her cellphone call me every minute.
    At this point of the story, I believe you know how the story will end.
    She came back, not happy, not exited but heartless, saying: I am over it, I do not when I am going to learn to not give all my hearth, my mind and my soul to an “stranger.”
    I did not what to say to her, I just said: Men are hot and passionate, and the good thing is that they are like cars; you can find anyone just by looking through the window. Don’t worry you will get over with.

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  44. A foul grim on his face couldn't have explained it better as he clenched his sweaty palms into a fist. He had never came even close to defeat, yet staring at it right in the face.

    "Don't worry, J, there's still plenty of time left."

    "Yeah but every minute feels like a second!" responded J

    A gambler at heart, arrogant as they come, yet surprisingly witty and with a mean streak of success, the 'King' was falling apart in his own throne and there was nothing he could do about it but watch.

    "You didn't think for one second the best team in the league was prone to an upset? Even after those injuries??" again asked T

    "Now's not the time, T! This wasn't supposed to turn out this way!"

    As clever as he was placing bets on teams, J was all too confident going with the favorite, no matter what. To him, there was no such thing as an upset.

    Oh, but there is.

    The game was in its final minutes, and J placed an excruciating bet on the team that was, until tonight, nearly unbeatable. But nearly just wasn't enough as he watched the team and his fortune collapse before his very eyes. A victim of his own greed, cursed by his own gift, J often ignored the advice of his friend, T, and always brushed him off as an amateur gambler, and treated him as such.

    But, unbeknownst to him, that "amateur" might have made a move that can save his friend's career, and possibly, his life.

    He bet on the other team.

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  45. “Jake has tremendous potential. He’s a lefty, and that throws a lot of hitters off. Even the good ones,” Gene said.
    “Do you really think he’s got what it takes?” Angie, Jake’s mother, replied.
    “He as all the tools. He throws hard as it is, and if he can manage to throw a couple of good breaking balls, he’s going to blow everyone away. He needs to think big,” Gene said, confidently.

    Jake stood on the mound, concentrating with his catcher. He thought to himself, “I really need to nail this one.” Jake was the only son of a single-mother with 3 kids. He felt an enormous need to succeed, yet he did not know how. He was blessed athletically, but when it came to academia, he was lazy.

    “Good job, Jake!” Gene, called out. Jake nodded back.

    Two weeks later, Jake received his quarterly progress report in the mail, and his grades were barely enough to scrape by.

    “Jake, you know you aren’t going to be eligible if you don’t bring up your Spanish grade. What’s going on? I talked to Gene last Sunday, and he says you need to think big. You have what it takes, but these grades aren’t going to cut it. What’s going to happen when the scouts come around? You need to go to college, and this is your ticket in,” Angie said, visibly upset.

    “I know, mom. I’ll figure something out,” Jake said, glumly.

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  46. I have a hard time with making any kind of decision. I never used to be like this. I have made spur of the moment justifications for emergency situations that were decently resolved. I used to be so strong and smart. Anymore I shrink back at even making decisions to pay the bills. The fifth isn’t too late to pay the Wi-Fi or the fifteenth for the phone that was due on the second. It’s true we don’t have enough money, but how uncommon is this state of affairs? If I walk into the kitchen I don’t know if I want eggs for breakfast, how about cereal, pancakes? I talk myself out of the whole situation and decide that I don’t really want to eat at all, so a cup of coffee and some cookies are just right. Shit
    Let’s go to the market now and buy some provisions. While in the local store I meander around, I have a list to follow for what I need to buy. But when I come to the isle that has cereal there are so many kinds. I want only healthy stuff. That narrows it down. But I want to eat it dry without milk so it has to have body a good crunch to it. I don’t like this one brand because it tastes like cardboard, this one tastes like medicine. You don’t get enough in this one box, this one is too expensive. Conflict resolved you can never go wrong with Fruit Loops. I grab the one box and the notice it is buy one get one free, do I want two boxes? Maybe I will eat the one box so quickly because I will know that I have a second box to eat? Or maybe this is the cereal that tastes like medicine? So I put the box back and quickly leave the isle.

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  47. As Chris stepped back into the ridge of the mountain to hide from the night’s snowfall, he spotted a pair of eyes that burned like the fires of hell. He could not describe what the beast was but he knew in order to become a man he must take it home. He struck forward toward the animal’s head, his spear did not connect. Failed attempts began to grow in number as Chris began to feel his sense of defeat rise within his chest, “I cannot fail”, he said to himself. Chris tried again, being ever so careful to not stay to long near the animal’s razor pointed teeth. After 10 minutes of battling the beast he felt the fatigue setting in and the idea that he may lose this battle. He took one large step forward. Chris could tell that this would be his last chance to strike. The spear connected and laid the beast out on his back. Chris then fell to his knees and lay for the night with his sense of accomplishment lulling him to sleep. He knew that the battle was won and that the next morning he could return the village a man. He walked back to his village to see that the animals had destroyed his civilization. Chris knew he had started a war with the beast. A war that he, by himself, must finish.

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  48. Clack, clack, clack, clack… ‘Stupid things!’ She thought furiously. She hid in a corner to tear off the shoes that were making so much noise. ‘I can’t let her hear me! Can’t let her find me!’ She peered down the hall to make sure the coast was clear. She was only 6 and couldn’t run forever. A shadow appeared on the far side of the corridor. Fear gripped her insides and she took off running at full speed the other way. She was running so hard she didn’t see the young boy come around the corner in time to stop before they crashed and landed in a heap on the floor. Her knee burnt from the impact, his face should have too, that was what her knee hit
    “Hurry, Gerry, she’s coming!" She whispered urgently pulling on his arms. "She’s coming! Get up! Hurry!” He sat on the floor rubbing his face looking as if he were fighting tears. She gave up, dropping his arm, and started to run again, but now her little legs felt like pudding and they didn’t want to move fast enough. A hard shove in the back sent her flying forward onto her face. She rolled over ready to scratch someone’s eyes out when a piercing laughter rang through the air.
    “I got you, Mary! I got you! You’re it, you’re it!” Giggling, the other girl turned and ran.
    “Ariea! No fair!” Mary yelled getting to her feet, “you can’t not get Gerry just ‘cause he’s your brother!” She screamed to the empty hall.

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  49. Helena was a busy 25-year-old woman from working two jobs going to school and coming home to a niece and nephew to watch she berly had time to eat or watch her favorite show. One day as she woke up at 5am ,her usual ,she got up and walking like a zombie trying to find her light switch and just as she found it she fell on her nephews toy he had left that evening. Helen didn’t have a chance to turn on the light before she knew it she was on the floor with excruciating pain in her leg she screamed “Help!” her mother ran to her room “Helena are you okay!?” “No mom I think I broke my leg!” Helen shouted in pain and anger she knew if she broke her leg, her life would halt to a standstill. Her mother took her to the doctor where Helena’s suspension was confirmed Helena was given a cast and a month to recuperate .Helena thought to herself “One Month of staying home and doing nothing I can’t do that “When Helena got home she sat on the couch this would be her bed for the next month since her room was upstairs. She called her work to tell them the news .Helena’s first day of being home bound was rough her niece and nephew didn’t let her sleep because the living was there play room. She could not do anything for herself she actually had to ask for things. Helena’s older sister seen that Helena was taking the injury hard so she sat next to her and asked “Helena I know it’s hard for you to be stuck at home for a month but maybe Gods trying to tell you to stop and smell the roses? You do a lot in a day Helena but do you enjoy what you do? Take this time to reflect on your life.” “Wow” Helena thought to herself “My sister has a good point I don’t ever stop to enjoy my life.” Helena began to change her feeling about being home bound as an opportunity to connect with her parents and siblings she now knew that sometimes what you think is a punishment can be a blessing in disguise.

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    1. When I got home, I expected to be greeted by solitude. Instead, I find my boyfriend Greg home. He was sitting on the couch in our living room, flipping through the channels.
      “Greg? I thought you were working late.” I asked him. I’d wanted the solitude, craved to have a few minutes to myself before he’d gotten home.
      “I wanted to surprise you and pick you up from work. But Brittany said that you didn’t have a shift today.” I swallowed loudly, feeling my hands getting clammy and my heart beginning to race. I’d wanted to tell him, I really did. But I’d been so scared. Things between Greg and I have been going south lately. We were always fighting and when we weren’t, we were avoiding each other. It had gotten to the point that I memorized his work schedule to make sure we weren’t home at the same time.
      “Oh.” I couldn’t think of anything else to say to him.
      “Do you want to explain to me where you’ve been?” I knew this conversation had to come eventually, I just wish I’d been the one to bring it up.
      “I was signing the lease for the available apartment by Kristy.” I whispered. The look in his eyes told me he was not happy. But I’d been settling for the past 3 years since I’d moved in with Greg. I was tired. I just wanted some space, some breathing room. I wanted to be able to come home with out being afraid to get into a fight with anyone. It was time to just move on from this ship wreck.
      “What?” Greg asked, his voice just as hard as his eyes.
      “I’m leaving Greg. I’ll leave now to give you some space. But I’ll be back tomorrow to pick up my things. I can’t be in this relationship anymore. It’s just not working out.”
      “If you want to give up, so be it.” some part of me felt bad for leaving like this. But another part of me, the independent part of me was mad that he was trying to blame our failed relationship all on me.
      “I’m not the only guilty one here.” I reminded him.
      As I picked up my keys, I headed for the door.
      “Greg. Once upon a time, you’d made me very happy. But that time had passed. We are just too different for it to work out.” I left him there with those words said. And I left behind the guilt of sticking around. I wanted to be my own person again, and maybe along the way, find someone that can finally understand me. Or at least like my different ways of looking at the world.

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  50. There was a large bang outside our hotel room. It shook the walls and upended the lamp by my bed.
    My brother and I rushed to the door and stared in amazement.
    My father screamed, “Kids get under the table!”
    Someone yelled, “There are people in there!”
    I saw the blur of my brother rush past me.
    “Marcus, where are you going?” I shouted.
    I watched him disappear into a swirl of smoke toward the fuselage of the plane. My mother screamed, my father pulled his pants up as he bolted for the door. Another explosion lit the sky. The force of it knocked my father over. Flames shot high as the last of the fuselage was engulfed.
    It has been four years since the night the Boeing 747 crashed into the parking lot of the Radisson hotel. My mother barely talks anymore; my father hasn’t seen a sober day since. I walk past Marcus’ bedroom and wonder why my brother to charged into a burning airplane on the word of someone three floors above of us. There was no closure, no heroic rescue to justify his end. I look for meaning in the unmade bed and laundry still strewn on the floor.
    My father stumbles out of his study as the blare of the TV in my mother’s room jars me back to the reality left in the wake of my brother’s absence. He’s moved on, yet I’m left here with three more years on my sentence.

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