1 Skip this chapter its to increase wo rd count

Skip this chapter it will be deleted after the total words excluding this chapter exceed 15000.Off you go to the next one.(I copied it from a random text generator).

Do you think you're living an ordinary life? You are so mistaken it's difficult to even explain. The mere fact that you exist makes you extraordinary. The odds of you existing are less than winning the lottery, but here you are. Are you going to let this extraordinary opportunity pass? Stranded. Yes, she was now the first person ever to land on Venus, but that was of little consequence. Her name would be read by millions in school as the first to land here, but that celebrity would never actually be seen by her. She looked at the control panel and knew there was nothing that would ever get it back into working order. She was the first and it was not clear this would also be her last. She looked at her little girl who was about to become a teen. She tried to think back to when the girl had been younger but failed to pinpoint the exact moment when she had become a little too big to pick up and carry. It hit her all at once. She was no longer a little girl and she stood there speechless with fear, sadness, and pride all running through her at the same time. She wanted rainbow hair. That's what she told the hairdresser. It should be deep rainbow colors, too. She wasn't interested in pastel rainbow hair. She wanted it deep and vibrant so there was no doubt that she had done this on purpose. She nervously peered over the edge. She understood in her mind that the view was supposed to be beautiful, but all she felt was fear. There had always been something about heights that disturbed her, and now she could feel the full force of this unease. She reluctantly crept a little closer with the encouragement of her friends as the fear continued to build. She couldn't help but feel that something horrible was about to happen. It wasn't quite yet time to panic. There was still time to salvage the situation. At least that is what she was telling himself. The reality was that it was time to panic and there wasn't time to salvage the situation, but he continued to delude himself into believing there was. Balloons are pretty and come in different colors, different shapes, different sizes, and they can even adjust sizes as needed. But don't make them too big or they might just pop, and then bye-bye balloon. It'll be gone and lost for the rest of mankind. They can serve a variety of purposes, from decorating to water balloon wars. You just have to use your head to think a little bit about what to do with them. He had done everything right. There had been no mistakes throughout the entire process. It had been perfection and he knew it without a doubt, but the results still stared back at him with the fact that he had lost. You know that tingly feeling you get on the back of your neck sometimes? I just got that feeling when talking with her. You know I don't believe in sixth senses, but there is something not right with her. I don't know how I know, but I just do. He had three simple rules by which he lived. The first was to never eat blue food. There was nothing in nature that was edible that was blue. People often asked about blueberries, but everyone knows those are actually purple. He understood it was one of the stranger rules to live by, but it had served him well thus far in the 50+ years of his life. She tried to explain that love wasn't like pie. There wasn't a set number of slices to be given out. There wasn't less to be given to one person if you wanted to give more to another. That after a set amount was given out it would all disappear. She tried to explain this, but it fell on deaf ears. The boy walked down the street in a carefree way, playing without notice of what was about him. He didn't hear the sound of the car as his ball careened into the road. He took a step toward it, and in doing so sealed his fate. The day had begun on a bright note. The sun finally peeked through the rain for the first time in a week, and the birds were sinf=ging in its warmth. There was no way to anticipate what was about to happen. It was a worst-case scenario and there was no way out of it. She tried not to judge him. His ratty clothes and unkempt hair made him look homeless. Was he really the next Einstein as she had been told? On the off chance it was true, she continued to try not to judge him. It was easy to spot her. All you needed to do was look at her socks. They were never a matching pair. One would be green while the other would be blue. One would reach her knee while the other barely touched her ankle. Every other part of her was perfect, but never the socks. They were her micro act of rebellion. Eating raw fish didn't sound like a good idea. "It's a delicacy in Japan," didn't seem to make it any more appetizing. Raw fish is raw fish, delicacy or not. There are different types of secrets. She had held onto plenty of them during her life, but this one was different. She found herself holding onto the worst type. It was the type of secret that could gnaw away at your insides if you didn't tell someone about it, but it could end up getting you killed if you did. According to the caption on the bronze marker placed by the Multnomah Chapter of the Daughters of the American Revolution on May 12, 1939, "College Hall (is) the oldest building in continuous use for Educational purposes west of the Rocky Mountains. Here were educated men and women who have won recognition throughout the world in all the learned professions." You can decide what you want to do in life, but I suggest doing something that creates. Something that leaves a tangible thing once you're done. That way even after you're gone, you will still live on in the things you created. He sat staring at the person in the train stopped at the station going in the opposite direction. She sat staring ahead, never noticing that she was being watched. Both trains began to move and he knew that in another timeline or in another universe, they had been happy together. The headphones were on. They had been utilized on purpose. She could hear her mom yelling in the background, but couldn't make out exactly what the yelling was about. That was exactly why she had put them on. She knew her mom would enter her room at any minute, and she could pretend that she hadn't heard any of the previous yelling. Green vines attached to the trunk of the tree had wound themselves toward the top of the canopy. Ants used the vine as their private highway, avoiding all the creases and crags of the bark, to freely move at top speed from top to bottom or bottom to top depending on their current chore. At least this was the way it was supposed to be. Something had damaged the vine overnight halfway up the tree leaving a gap in the once pristine ant highway. Dave found joy in the daily routine of life. He awoke at the same time, ate the same breakfast and drove the same commute. He worked at a job that never seemed to change and he got home at 6 pm sharp every night. It was who he had been for the last ten years and he had no idea that was all about to change. There were little things that she simply could not stand. The sound of someone tapping their nails on the table. A person chewing with their mouth open. Another human imposing themselves into her space. She couldn't stand any of these things, but none of them compared to the number one thing she couldn't stand which topped all of them combined. He heard the loud impact before he ever saw the result. It had been so loud that it had actually made him jump back in his seat. As soon as he recovered from the surprise, he saw the crack in the windshield. It seemed to be an analogy of the current condition of his life. It went through such rapid contortions that the little bear was forced to change his hold on it so many times he became confused in the darkness, and could not, for the life of him, tell whether he held the sheep right side up, or upside down. But that point was decided for him a moment later by the animal itself, who, with a sudden twist, jabbed its horns so hard into his lowest ribs that he gave a grunt of anger and disgust. Her eyebrows were a shade darker than her hair. They were thick and almost horizontal, emphasizing the depth of her eyes. She was rather handsome than beautiful. Her face was captivating by reason of a certain frankness of expression and a contradictory subtle play of features. Her manner was engaging. Spending time at national parks can be an exciting adventure, but this wasn't the type of excitement she was hoping to experience. As she contemplated the situation she found herself in, she knew she'd gotten herself in a little more than she bargained for. It wasn't often that she found herself in a tree staring down at a pack of wolves that were looking to make her their next meal. He wondered if he should disclose the truth to his friends. It would be a risky move. Yes, the truth would make things a lot easier if they all stayed on the same page, but the truth might fracture the group leaving everything in even more of a mess than it was not telling the truth. It was time to decide which way to go. The cab arrived late. The inside was in as bad of shape as the outside which was concerning, and it didn't appear that it had been cleaned in months. The green tree air-freshener hanging from the rearview mirror was either exhausted of its scent or not strong enough to overcome the other odors emitting from the cab. The correct decision, in this case, was to get the hell out of it and to call another cab, but she was late and didn't have a choice. She wondered if the note had reached him. She scolded herself for not handing it to him in person. She trusted her friend, but so much could happen. She waited impatiently for word. He knew what he was supposed to do. That had been apparent from the beginning. That was what made the choice so difficult. What he was supposed to do and what he would do were not the same. This would have been fine if he were willing to face the inevitable consequences, but he wasn't.

He heard the crack echo in the late afternoon about a mile away. His heart started racing and he bolted into a full sprint. "It wasn't a gunshot, it wasn't a gunshot," he repeated under his breathlessness as he continued to sprint. She had been told time and time again that the most important steps were the first and the last. It was something that she carried within her in everything she did, but then he showed up and disrupted everything. He told her that she had it wrong. The first step wasn't the most important. The last step wasn't the most important. It was the next step that was the most important. I'm heading back to Colorado tomorrow after being down in Santa Barbara over the weekend for the festival there. I will be making October plans once there and will try to arrange so I'm back here for the birthday if possible. I'll let you know as soon as I know the doctor's appointment schedule and my flight plans. I'm meant to be writing at this moment. What I mean is, I'm meant to be writing something else at this moment. The document I'm meant to be writing is, of course, open in another program on my computer and is patiently awaiting my attention. Yet here I am plonking down senseless sentiments in this paragraph because it's easier to do than to work on anything particularly meaningful. I am grateful for the distraction. "Explain to me again why I shouldn't cheat?" he asked. "All the others do and nobody ever gets punished for doing so. I should go about being happy losing to cheaters because I know that I don't? That's what you're telling me?" He was an expert but not in a discipline that anyone could fully appreciate. He knew how to hold the cone just right so that the soft server ice-cream fell into it at the precise angle to form a perfect cone each and every time. It had taken years to perfect and he could now do it without even putting any thought behind it. Nobody seemed to fully understand the beauty of this accomplishment except for the new worker who watched in amazement. He looked at the sand. Picking up a handful, he wondered how many grains were in his hand. Hundreds of thousands? "Not enough," the said under his breath. I need more. What were they eating? It didn't taste like anything she had ever eaten before and although she was famished, she didn't dare ask. She knew the answer would be one she didn't want to hear. As she sat watching the world go by, something caught her eye. It wasn't so much its color or shape, but the way it was moving. She squinted to see if she could better understand what it was and where it was going, but it didn't help. As she continued to stare into the distance, she didn't understand why this uneasiness was building inside her body. She felt like she should get up and run. If only she could make out what it was. At that moment, she comprehended what it was and where it was heading, and she knew her life would never be the same. According to the caption on the bronze marker placed by the Multnomah Chapter of the Daughters of the American Revolution on May 12, 1939, "College Hall (is) the oldest building in continuous use for Educational purposes west of the Rocky Mountains. Here were educated men and women who have won recognition throughout the world in all the learned professions." MaryLou wore the tiara with pride. There was something that made doing anything she didn't really want to do a bit easier when she wore it. She really didn't care what those staring through the window were thinking as she vacuumed her apartment. It was that terrifying feeling you have as you tightly hold the covers over you with the knowledge that there is something hiding under your bed. You want to look, but you don't at the same time. You're frozen with fear and unable to act. That's where she found herself and she didn't know what to do next She looked at her little girl who was about to become a teen. She tried to think back to when the girl had been younger but failed to pinpoint the exact moment when she had become a little too big to pick up and carry. It hit her all at once. She was no longer a little girl and she stood there speechless with fear, sadness, and pride all running through her at the same time. The red glint of paint sparkled under the sun. He had dreamed of owning this car since he was ten, and that dream had become a reality less than a year ago. It was his baby and he spent hours caring for it, pampering it, and fondling over it. She knew this all too well, and that's exactly why she had taken a sludge hammer to it. There once lived an old man and an old woman who were peasants and had to work hard to earn their daily bread. The old man used to go to fix fences and do other odd jobs for the farmers around, and while he was gone the old woman, his wife, did the work of the house and worked in their own little plot of land. "It was so great to hear from you today and it was such weird timing," he said. "This is going to sound funny and a little strange, but you were in a dream I had just a couple of days ago. I'd love to get together and tell you about it if you're up for a cup of coffee," he continued, laying the trapped he's been planning for years. I'm going to hire professional help tomorrow. I can't handle this anymore. She fell over the coffee table and now there is blood in her catheter. This is much more than I ever signed up to do. Colors bounced around in her head. They mixed and threaded themselves together. Even colors that had no business being together. They were all one, yet distinctly separate at the same time. How was she going to explain this to the others? Barbara had been waiting at the table for twenty minutes. it had been twenty long and excruciating minutes. David had promised that he would be on time today. He never was, but he had promised this one time. She had made him repeat the promise multiple times over the last week until she'd believed his promise. Now she was paying the price. One dollar and eighty-seven cents. That was all. And sixty cents of it was in pennies. Pennies saved one and two at a time by bulldozing the grocer and the vegetable man and the butcher until one's cheeks burned with the silent imputation of parsimony that such close dealing implied. One dollar and eighty-seven cents. And the next day would be Christmas... Spending time at national parks can be an exciting adventure, but this wasn't the type of excitement she was hoping to experience. As she contemplated the situation she found herself in, she knew she'd gotten herself in a little more than she bargained for. It wasn't often that she found herself in a tree staring down at a pack of wolves that were looking to make her their next meal. Her mom had warned her. She had been warned time and again, but she had refused to believe her. She had done everything right and she knew she would be rewarded for doing so with the promotion. So when the promotion was given to her main rival, it not only stung, it threw her belief system into disarray. It was her first big lesson in life, but not the last. It seemed like it should have been so simple. There was nothing inherently difficult with getting the project done. It was simple and straightforward enough that even a child should have been able to complete it on time, but that wasn't the case. The deadline had arrived and the project remained unfinished. All he could think about was how it would all end. There was still a bit of uncertainty in the equation, but the basics were there for anyone to see. No matter how much he tried to see the positive, it wasn't anywhere to be seen. The end was coming and it wasn't going to be pretty. She reached her goal, exhausted. Even more chilling to her was that the euphoria that she thought she'd feel upon reaching it wasn't there. Something wasn't right. Was this the only feeling she'd have for over five years of hard work? The amber droplet hung from the branch, reaching fullness and ready to drop. It waited. While many of the other droplets were satisfied to form as big as they could and release, this droplet had other plans. It wanted to be part of history. It wanted to be remembered long after all the other droplets had dissolved into history. So it waited for the perfect specimen to fly by to trap and capture that it hoped would eventually be discovered hundreds of years in the future. She looked at her student wondering if she could ever get through. "You need to learn to think for yourself," she wanted to tell him. "Your friends are holding you back and bringing you down." But she didn't because she knew his friends were all that he had and even if that meant a life of misery, he would never give them up. Josh had spent year and year accumulating the information. He knew it inside out and if there was ever anyone looking for an expert in the field, Josh would be the one to call. The problem was that there was nobody interested in the information besides him and he knew it. Years of information painstakingly memorized and sorted with not a sole giving even an ounce of interest in the topic. He watched as the young man tried to impress everyone in the room with his intelligence. There was no doubt that he was smart. The fact that he was more intelligent than anyone else in the room could have been easily deduced, but nobody was really paying any attention due to the fact that it was also obvious that the young man only cared about his intelligence. Since they are still preserved in the rocks for us to see, they must have been formed quite recently, that is, geologically speaking. What can explain these striations and their common orientation? Did you ever hear about the Great Ice Age or the Pleistocene Epoch? Less than one million years ago, in fact, some 12,000 years ago, an ice sheet many thousands of feet thick rode over Burke Mountain in a southeastward direction. The many boulders frozen to the underside of the ice sheet tended to scratch the rocks over which they rode. The scratches or striations seen in the park rocks were caused by these attached boulders. The ice sheet also plucked and rounded Burke Mountain into the shape it possesses today. The red ball sat proudly at the top of the toybox. It had been the last to be played with and anticipated it would be the next as well. The other toys grumbled beneath. At one time each had held the spot of the red ball, but over time they had sunk deeper and deeper into the toy box. A long black shadow slid across the pavement near their feet and the five Venusians, very much startled, looked overhead. They were barely in time to see the huge gray form of the carnivore before it vanished behind a sign atop a nearby building which bore the mystifying information "Pepsi-Cola." It was a question of which of the two she preferred. On the one hand, the choice seemed simple. The more expensive one with a brand name would be the choice of most. It was the easy choice. The safe choice. But she wasn't sure she actually preferred it. The boy walked down the street in a carefree way, playing without notice of what was about him. He didn't hear the sound of the car as his ball careened into the road. He took a step toward it, and in doing so sealed his fate. He had done everything right. There had been no mistakes throughout the entire process. It had been perfection and he knew it without a doubt, but the results still stared back at him with the fact that he had lost. Sometimes that's just the way it has to be. Sure, there were probably other options, but he didn't let them enter his mind. It was done and that was that. It was just the way it had to be. There wasn't a bird in the sky, but that was not what caught her attention. It was the clouds. The deep green that isn't the color of clouds, but came with these. She knew what was coming and she hoped she was prepared. The wolves stopped in their tracks, sizing up the mother and her cubs. It had been over a week since their last meal and they were getting desperate. The cubs would make a good meal, but there were high risks taking on the mother Grizzly. A decision had to be made and the wrong choice could signal the end of the pack. Sleeping in his car was never the plan but sometimes things don't work out as planned. This had been his life for the last three months and he was just beginning to get used to it. He didn't actually enjoy it, but he had accepted it and come to terms with it. Or at least he thought he had. All that changed when he put the key into the ignition, turned it and the engine didn't make a sound. This is important to remember. Love isn't like pie. You don't need to divide it among all your friends and loved ones. No matter how much love you give, you can always give more. It doesn't run out, so don't try to hold back giving it as if it may one day run out. Give it freely and as much as you want. The wave crashed and hit the sandcastle head-on. The sandcastle began to melt under the waves force and as the wave receded, half the sandcastle was gone. The next wave hit, not quite as strong, but still managed to cover the remains of the sandcastle and take more of it away. The third wave, a big one, crashed over the sandcastle completely covering and engulfing it. When it receded, there was no trace the sandcastle ever existed and hours of hard work disappeared forever. At that moment he had a thought that he'd never imagine he'd consider. "I could just cheat," he thought, "and that would solve the problem." He tried to move on from the thought but it was persistent. It didn't want to go away and, if he was honest with himself, he didn't want it to. He knew what he was supposed to do. That had been apparent from the beginning. That was what made the choice so difficult. What he was supposed to do and what he would do were not the same. This would have been fine if he were willing to face the inevitable consequences, but he wasn't. She wanted rainbow hair. That's what she told the hairdresser. It should be deep rainbow colors, too. She wasn't interested in pastel rainbow hair. She wanted it deep and vibrant so there was no doubt that she had done this on purpose. I haven't bailed on writing. Look, I'm generating a random paragraph at this very moment in an attempt to get my writing back on track. I am making an effort. I will start writing consistently again! "Begin today!" That's all the note said. There was no indication from where it came or who may have written it. Had it been meant for someone else? Meghan looked around the room, but nobody made eye contact back. For a brief moment, she thought it might be a message for her to follow her dreams, but ultimately decided it was easier to ignore it as she crumpled it up and threw it away. The chair sat in the corner where it had been for over 25 years. The only difference was there was someone actually sitting in it. How long had it been since someone had done that? Ten years or more he imagined. Yet there was no denying the presence in the chair now. Indescribable oppression, which seemed to generate in some unfamiliar part of her consciousness, filled her whole being with a vague anguish. It was like a shadow, like a mist passing across her soul's summer day. It was strange and unfamiliar; it was a mood. She did not sit there inwardly upbraiding her husband, lamenting at Fate, which had directed her footsteps to the path which they had taken. She was just having a good cry all to herself. The mosquitoes made merry over her, biting her firm, round arms and nipping at her bare insteps. The day had begun on a bright note. The sun finally peeked through the rain for the first time in a week, and the birds were sinf=ging in its warmth. There was no way to anticipate what was about to happen. It was a worst-case scenario and there was no way out of it. The lone lamp post of the one-street town flickered, not quite dead but definitely on its way out. Suitcase by her side, she paid no heed to the light, the street or the town. A car was coming down the street and with her arm outstretched and thumb in the air, she had a plan.

It went through such rapid contortions that the little bear was forced to change his hold on it so many times he became confused in the darkness, and could not, for the life of him, tell whether he held the sheep right side up, or upside down. But that point was decided for him a moment later by the animal itself, who, with a sudden twist, jabbed its horns so hard into his lowest ribs that he gave a grunt of anger and disgust. Green vines attached to the trunk of the tree had wound themselves toward the top of the canopy. Ants used the vine as their private highway, avoiding all the creases and crags of the bark, to freely move at top speed from top to bottom or bottom to top depending on their current chore. At least this was the way it was supposed to be. Something had damaged the vine overnight halfway up the tree leaving a gap in the once pristine ant highway. It was that terrifying feeling you have as you tightly hold the covers over you with the knowledge that there is something hiding under your bed. You want to look, but you don't at the same time. You're frozen with fear and unable to act. That's where she found herself and she didn't know what to do next The red glint of paint sparkled under the sun. He had dreamed of owning this car since he was ten, and that dream had become a reality less than a year ago. It was his baby and he spent hours caring for it, pampering it, and fondling over it. She knew this all too well, and that's exactly why she had taken a sludge hammer to it. She looked at her little girl who was about to become a teen. She tried to think back to when the girl had been younger but failed to pinpoint the exact moment when she had become a little too big to pick up and carry. It hit her all at once. She was no longer a little girl and she stood there speechless with fear, sadness, and pride all running through her at the same time. The robot clicked disapprovingly, gurgled briefly inside its cubical interior and extruded a pony glass of brownish liquid. "Sir, you will undoubtedly end up in a drunkard's grave, dead of hepatic cirrhosis," it informed me virtuously as it returned my ID card. I glared as I pushed the glass across the table. What have you noticed today? I noticed that if you outline the eyes, nose, and mouth on your face with your finger, you make an "I" which makes perfect sense, but is something I never noticed before. What have you noticed today? Her mom had warned her. She had been warned time and again, but she had refused to believe her. She had done everything right and she knew she would be rewarded for doing so with the promotion. So when the promotion was given to her main rival, it not only stung, it threw her belief system into disarray. It was her first big lesson in life, but not the last. He ordered his regular breakfast. Two eggs sunnyside up, hash browns, and two strips of bacon. He continued to look at the menu wondering if this would be the day he added something new. This was also part of the routine. A few seconds of hesitation to see if something else would be added to the order before demuring and saying that would be all. It was the same exact meal that he had ordered every day for the past two years. According to the caption on the bronze marker placed by the Multnomah Chapter of the Daughters of the American Revolution on May 12, 1939, "College Hall (is) the oldest building in continuous use for Educational purposes west of the Rocky Mountains. Here were educated men and women who have won recognition throughout the world in all the learned professions." It had been her dream for years but Dana had failed to take any action toward making it come true. There had always been a good excuse to delay or prioritize another project. As she woke, she realized she was once again at a crossroads. Would it be another excuse or would she finally find the courage to pursue her dream? Dana rose and took her first step. There are only three ways to make this work. The first is to let me take care of everything. The second is for you to take care of everything. The third is to split everything 50 / 50. I think the last option is the most preferable, but I'm certain it'll also mean the end of our marriage. She tried not to judge him. His ratty clothes and unkempt hair made him look homeless. Was he really the next Einstein as she had been told? On the off chance it was true, she continued to try not to judge him. Don't be scared. The things out there that are unknown aren't scary in themselves. They are just unknown at the moment. Take the time to know them before you list them as scary. Then the world will be a much less scary place for you. Out of another, I get a lovely view of the bay and a little private wharf belonging to the estate. There is a beautiful shaded lane that runs down there from the house. I always fancy I see people walking in these numerous paths and arbors, but John has cautioned me not to give way to fancy in the least. He says that with my imaginative power and habit of story-making a nervous weakness like mine is sure to lead to all manner of excited fancies and that I ought to use my will and good sense to check the tendency. So I try. "It was so great to hear from you today and it was such weird timing," he said. "This is going to sound funny and a little strange, but you were in a dream I had just a couple of days ago. I'd love to get together and tell you about it if you're up for a cup of coffee," he continued, laying the trapped he's been planning for years. She sat in the darkened room waiting. It was now a standoff. He had the power to put her in the room, but not the power to make her repent. It wasn't fair and no matter how long she had to endure the darkness, she wouldn't change her attitude. At three years old, Sandy's stubborn personality had already bloomed into full view. He heard the loud impact before he ever saw the result. It had been so loud that it had actually made him jump back in his seat. As soon as he recovered from the surprise, he saw the crack in the windshield. It seemed to be an analogy of the current condition of his life. The leather jacked showed the scars of being his favorite for years. It wore those scars with pride, feeling that they enhanced his presence rather than diminishing it. The scars gave it character and had not overwhelmed to the point that it had become ratty. The jacket was in its prime and it knew it. She wanted rainbow hair. That's what she told the hairdresser. It should be deep rainbow colors, too. She wasn't interested in pastel rainbow hair. She wanted it deep and vibrant so there was no doubt that she had done this on purpose. Balloons are pretty and come in different colors, different shapes, different sizes, and they can even adjust sizes as needed. But don't make them too big or they might just pop, and then bye-bye balloon. It'll be gone and lost for the rest of mankind. They can serve a variety of purposes, from decorating to water balloon wars. You just have to use your head to think a little bit about what to do with them. The chair sat in the corner where it had been for over 25 years. The only difference was there was someone actually sitting in it. How long had it been since someone had done that? Ten years or more he imagined. Yet there was no denying the presence in the chair now. She asked the question even though she didn't really want to hear the answer. It was a no-win situation since she already knew. If he told the truth, she'd get confirmation of her worst fears. If he lied, she'd know that he wasn't who she thought he was which would be almost as bad. Yet she asked the question anyway and waited for his answer. It wasn't quite yet time to panic. There was still time to salvage the situation. At least that is what she was telling himself. The reality was that it was time to panic and there wasn't time to salvage the situation, but he continued to delude himself into believing there was. There was something beautiful in his hate. It wasn't the hate itself as it was a disgusting display of racism and intolerance. It was what propelled the hate and the fact that although he had this hate, he didn't understand where it came from. It was at that moment that she realized that there was hope in changing him. Indescribable oppression, which seemed to generate in some unfamiliar part of her consciousness, filled her whole being with a vague anguish. It was like a shadow, like a mist passing across her soul's summer day. It was strange and unfamiliar; it was a mood. She did not sit there inwardly upbraiding her husband, lamenting at Fate, which had directed her footsteps to the path which they had taken. She was just having a good cry all to herself. The mosquitoes made merry over her, biting her firm, round arms and nipping at her bare insteps. The red ball sat proudly at the top of the toybox. It had been the last to be played with and anticipated it would be the next as well. The other toys grumbled beneath. At one time each had held the spot of the red ball, but over time they had sunk deeper and deeper into the toy box. Sitting in the sun, away from everyone who had done him harm in the past, he quietly listened to those who roamed by. He felt at peace in the moment, hoping it would last, but knowing the reprieve would soon come to an end. He closed his eyes, the sun beating down on face and he smiled. He smiled for the first time in as long as he could remember. MaryLou wore the tiara with pride. There was something that made doing anything she didn't really want to do a bit easier when she wore it. She really didn't care what those staring through the window were thinking as she vacuumed her apartment. They argue. While the argument seems to be different the truth is it's always the same. Yes, the topic may be different or the circumstances, but when all said and done, it all came back to the same thing. They both knew it, but neither has the courage or strength to address the underlying issue. So they continue to argue. Don't forget that gifts often come with costs that go beyond their purchase price. When you purchase a child the latest smartphone, you're also committing to a monthly phone bill. When you purchase the latest gaming system, you're likely not going to be satisfied with the games that come with it for long and want to purchase new titles to play. When you buy gifts it's important to remember that some come with additional costs down the road that can be much more expensive than the initial gift itself. She tried to explain that love wasn't like pie. There wasn't a set number of slices to be given out. There wasn't less to be given to one person if you wanted to give more to another. That after a set amount was given out it would all disappear. She tried to explain this, but it fell on deaf ears. There was something in the tree. It was difficult to tell from the ground, but Rachael could see movement. She squinted her eyes and peered in the direction of the movement, trying to decipher exactly what she had spied. The more she peered, however, the more she thought it might be a figment of her imagination. Nothing seemed to move until the moment she began to take her eyes off the tree. Then in the corner of her eye, she would see the movement again and begin the process of staring again. I've rented a car in Las Vegas and have reserved a hotel in Twentynine Palms which is just north of Joshua Tree. We'll drive from Las Vegas through Mojave National Preserve and possibly do a short hike on our way down. Then spend all day on Monday at Joshua Tree. We can decide the next morning if we want to do more in Joshua Tree or Mojave before we head back. He couldn't move. His head throbbed and spun. He couldn't decide if it was the flu or the drinking last night. It was probably a combination of both. Debbie put her hand into the hole, sliding her hand down as far as her arm could reach. She wiggled her fingers hoping to touch something, but all she felt was air. She shifted the weight of her body to try and reach an inch or two more down the hole. Her fingers still touched nothing but air. He wondered if he should disclose the truth to his friends. It would be a risky move. Yes, the truth would make things a lot easier if they all stayed on the same page, but the truth might fracture the group leaving everything in even more of a mess than it was not telling the truth. It was time to decide which way to go. He had three simple rules by which he lived. The first was to never eat blue food. There was nothing in nature that was edible that was blue. People often asked about blueberries, but everyone knows those are actually purple. He understood it was one of the stranger rules to live by, but it had served him well thus far in the 50+ years of his life. The trees, therefore, must be such old and primitive techniques that they thought nothing of them, deeming them so inconsequential that even savages like us would know of them and not be suspicious. At that, they probably didn't have too much time after they detected us orbiting and intending to land. And if that were true, there could be only one place where their civilization was hidden. He was an expert but not in a discipline that anyone could fully appreciate. He knew how to hold the cone just right so that the soft server ice-cream fell into it at the precise angle to form a perfect cone each and every time. It had taken years to perfect and he could now do it without even putting any thought behind it. Nobody seemed to fully understand the beauty of this accomplishment except for the new worker who watched in amazement. Sometimes that's just the way it has to be. Sure, there were probably other options, but he didn't let them enter his mind. It was done and that was that. It was just the way it had to be. One dollar and eighty-seven cents. That was all. And sixty cents of it was in pennies. Pennies saved one and two at a time by bulldozing the grocer and the vegetable man and the butcher until one's cheeks burned with the silent imputation of parsimony that such close dealing implied. One dollar and eighty-seven cents. And the next day would be Christmas... He picked up the burnt end of the branch and made a mark on the stone. Day 52 if the marks on the stone were accurate. He couldn't be sure. Day and nights had begun to blend together creating confusion, but he knew it was a long time. Much too long. It was a question of which of the two she preferred. On the one hand, the choice seemed simple. The more expensive one with a brand name would be the choice of most. It was the easy choice. The safe choice. But she wasn't sure she actually preferred it. "Explain to me again why I shouldn't cheat?" he asked. "All the others do and nobody ever gets punished for doing so. I should go about being happy losing to cheaters because I know that I don't? That's what you're telling me?" Where do they get a random paragraph?" he wondered as he clicked the generate button. Do they just write a random paragraph or do they get it somewhere? At that moment he read the random paragraph and realized it was about random paragraphs and his world would never be the same. Hopes and dreams were dashed that day. It should have been expected, but it still came as a shock. The warning signs had been ignored in favor of the possibility, however remote, that it could actually happen. That possibility had grown from hope to an undeniable belief it must be destiny. That was until it wasn't and the hopes and dreams came crashing down. The words hadn't flowed from his fingers for the past few weeks. He never imagined he'd find himself with writer's block, but here he sat with a blank screen in front of him. That blank screen taunting him day after day had started to play with his mind. He didn't understand why he couldn't even type a single word, just one to begin the process and build from there. And yet, he already knew that the eight hours he was prepared to sit in front of his computer today would end with the screen remaining blank. He knew what he was supposed to do. That had been apparent from the beginning. That was what made the choice so difficult. What he was supposed to do and what he would do were not the same. This would have been fine if he were willing to face the inevitable consequences, but he wasn't. There are different types of secrets. She had held onto plenty of them during her life, but this one was different. She found herself holding onto the worst type. It was the type of secret that could gnaw away at your insides if you didn't tell someone about it, but it could end up getting you killed if you did.\ haven't bailed on writing. Look, I'm generating a random paragraph at this very moment in an attempt to get my writing back on track. I am making an effort. I will start writing consistently again! He sat staring at the person in the train stopped at the station going in the opposite direction. She sat staring ahead, never noticing that she was being watched. Both trains began to move and he knew that in another timeline or in another universe, they had been happy together. Sometimes there isn't a good answer. No matter how you try to rationalize the outcome, it doesn't make sense. And instead of an answer, you are simply left with a question. Why? There wasn't a bird in the sky, but that was not what caught her attention. It was the clouds. The deep green that isn't the color of clouds, but came with these. She knew what was coming and she hoped she was prepared. It was just a burger. Why couldn't she understand that? She knew he'd completely changed his life around her eating habits, so why couldn't she give him a break this one time? She wasn't even supposed to have found out. Yes, he had promised her and yes, he had broken that promise, but still in his mind, all it had been was just a burger. "It was so great to hear from you today and it was such weird timing," he said. "This is going to sound funny and a little strange, but you were in a dream I had just a couple of days ago. I'd love to get together and tell you about it if you're up for a cup of coffee," he continued, laying the trapped he's been planning for years. The lone lamp post of the one-street town flickered, not quite dead but definitely on its way out. Suitcase by her side, she paid no heed to the light, the street or the town. A car was coming down the street and with her arm outstretched and thumb in the air, she had a plan. The day had begun on a bright note. The sun finally peeked through the rain for the first time in a week, and the birds were sinf=ging in its warmth. There was no way to anticipate what was about to happen. It was a worst-case scenario and there was no way out of it. Barbara had been waiting at the table for twenty minutes. it had been twenty long and excruciating minutes. David had promised that he would be on time today. He never was, but he had promised this one time. She had made him repeat the promise multiple times over the last week until she'd believed his promise. Now she was paying the price. She wondered if the note had reached him. She scolded herself for not handing it to him in person. She trusted her friend, but so much could happen. She waited impatiently for word. Don't forget that gifts often come with costs that go beyond their purchase price. When you purchase a child the latest smartphone, you're also committing to a monthly phone bill. When you purchase the latest gaming system, you're likely not going to be satisfied with the games that come with it for long and want to purchase new titles to play. When you buy gifts it's important to remember that some come with additional costs down the road that can be much more expensive than the initial gift itself. The wave crashed and hit the sandcastle head-on. The sandcastle began to melt under the waves force and as the wave receded, half the sandcastle was gone. The next wave hit, not quite as strong, but still managed to cover the remains of the sandcastle and take more of it away. The third wave, a big one, crashed over the sandcastle completely covering and engulfing it. When it receded, there was no trace the sandcastle ever existed and hours of hard work disappeared forever. The computer wouldn't start. She banged on the side and tried again. Nothing. She lifted it up and dropped it to the table. Still nothing. She banged her closed fist against the top. It was at this moment she saw the irony of trying to fix the machine with violence. There are only three ways to make this work. The first is to let me take care of everything. The second is for you to take care of everything. The third is to split everything 50 / 50. I think the last option is the most preferable, but I'm certain it'll also mean the end of our marriage. I'm meant to be writing at this moment. What I mean is, I'm meant to be writing something else at this moment. The document I'm meant to be writing is, of course, open in another program on my computer and is patiently awaiting my attention. Yet here I am plonking down senseless sentiments in this paragraph because it's easier to do than to work on anything particularly meaningful. I am grateful for the distraction. It was a rat's nest. Not a literal one, but that is what her hair seemed to resemble every morning when she got up. It was going to take at least an hour to get it under control and she was sick and tired of it. She peered into the mirror and wondered if it was worth it. It wasn't. She opened the drawer and picked up the hair clippers. It was a question of which of the two she preferred. On the one hand, the choice seemed simple. The more expensive one with a brand name would be the choice of most. It was the easy choice. The safe choice. But she wasn't sure she actually preferred it. He had three simple rules by which he lived. The first was to never eat blue food. There was nothing in nature that was edible that was blue. People often asked about blueberries, but everyone knows those are actually purple. He understood it was one of the stranger rules to live by, but it had served him well thus far in the 50+ years of his life. It went through such rapid contortions that the little bear was forced to change his hold on it so many times he became confused in the darkness, and could not, for the life of him, tell whether he held the sheep right side up, or upside down. But that point was decided for him a moment later by the animal itself, who, with a sudden twist, jabbed its horns so hard into his lowest ribs that he gave a grunt of anger and disgust. It was that terrifying feeling you have as you tightly hold the covers over you with the knowledge that there is something hiding under your bed. You want to look, but you don't at the same time. You're frozen with fear and unable to act. That's where she found herself and she didn't know what to do next They rushed out the door, grabbing anything and everything they could think of they might need. There was no time to double-check to make sure they weren't leaving something important behind. Everything was thrown into the car and they sped off. Thirty minutes later they were safe and that was when it dawned on them that they had forgotten the most important thing of all. He had done everything right. There had been no mistakes throughout the entire process. It had been perfection and he knew it without a doubt, but the results still stared back at him with the fact that he had lost. There once lived an old man and an old woman who were peasants and had to work hard to earn their daily bread. The old man used to go to fix fences and do other odd jobs for the farmers around, and while he was gone the old woman, his wife, did the work of the house and worked in their own little plot of land. Pink ponies and purple giraffes roamed the field. Cotton candy grew from the ground as a chocolate river meandered off to the side. What looked like stones in the pasture were actually rock candy. Everything in her dream seemed to be perfect except for the fact that she had no mouth. She didn't understand how changed worked. When she looked at today compared to yesterday, there was nothing that she could see that was different. Yet, when she looked at today compared to last year, she couldn't see how anything was ever the same. He wondered if he should disclose the truth to his friends. It would be a risky move. Yes, the truth would make things a lot easier if they all stayed on the same page, but the truth might fracture the group leaving everything in even more of a mess than it was not telling the truth. It was time to decide which way to go. What have you noticed today? I noticed that if you outline the eyes, nose, and mouth on your face with your finger, you make an "I" which makes perfect sense, but is something I never noticed before. What have you noticed today? I recently discovered I could make fudge with just chocolate chips, sweetened condensed milk, vanilla extract, and a thick pot on slow heat. I tried it with dark chocolate chunks and I tried it with semi-sweet chocolate chips. It's better with both kinds. It comes out pretty bad with just the dark chocolate. The best add-ins are crushed almonds and marshmallows -- what you get from that is Rocky Road. It takes about twenty minutes from start to fridge, and then it takes about six months to work off the twenty pounds you gain from eating it. All things in moderation, friends. All things in moderation. It had been her dream for years but Dana had failed to take any action toward making it come true. There had always been a good excuse to delay or prioritize another project. As she woke, she realized she was once again at a crossroads. Would it be another excuse or would she finally find the courage to pursue her dream? Dana rose and took her first step. She looked at her student wondering if she could ever get through. "You need to learn to think for yourself," she wanted to tell him. "Your friends are holding you back and bringing you down." But she didn't because she knew his friends were all that he had and even if that meant a life of misery, he would never give them up. At that moment he had a thought that he'd never imagine he'd consider. "I could just cheat," he thought, "and that would solve the problem." He tried to move on from the thought but it was persistent. It didn't want to go away and, if he was honest with himself, he didn't want it to. She had come to the conclusion that you could tell a lot about a person by their ears. The way they stuck out and the size of the earlobes could give you wonderful insights into the person. Of course, she couldn't scientifically prove any of this, but that didn't matter to her. Before anything else, she would size up the ears of the person she was talking to. His parents continued to question him. He didn't know what to say to them since they refused to believe the truth. He explained again and again, and they dismissed his explanation as a figment of his imagination. There was no way that grandpa, who had been dead for five years, could have told him where the treasure had been hidden. Of course, it didn't help that grandpa was roaring with laughter in the chair next to him as he tried to explain once again how he'd found it. It seemed like it should have been so simple. There was nothing inherently difficult with getting the project done. It was simple and straightforward enough that even a child should have been able to complete it on time, but that wasn't the case. The deadline had arrived and the project remained unfinished. The boy walked down the street in a carefree way, playing without notice of what was about him. He didn't hear the sound of the car as his ball careened into the road. He took a step toward it, and in doing so sealed his fate. He looked at the sand. Picking up a handful, he wondered how many grains were in his hand. Hundreds of thousands? "Not enough," the said under his breath. I need more. Since they are still preserved in the rocks for us to see, they must have been formed quite recently, that is, geologically speaking. What can explain these striations and their common orientation? Did you ever hear about the Great Ice Age or the Pleistocene Epoch? Less than one million years ago, in fact, some 12,000 years ago, an ice sheet many thousands of feet thick rode over Burke Mountain in a southeastward direction. The many boulders frozen to the underside of the ice sheet tended to scratch the rocks over which they rode. The scratches or striations seen in the park rocks were caused by these attached boulders. The ice sheet also plucked and rounded Burke Mountain into the shape it possesses today. I guess we could discuss the implications of the phrase "meant to be." That is if we wanted to drown ourselves in a sea of backwardly referential semantics and other mumbo-jumbo. Maybe such a discussion would result in the determination that "meant to be" is exactly as meaningless a phrase as it seems to be, and that none of us is actually meant to be doing anything at all. But that's my existential underpants underpinnings showing. It's the way the cookie crumbles. And now I want a cookie. It was difficult to explain to them how the diagnosis of certain death had actually given him life. While everyone around him was in tears and upset, he actually felt more at ease. The doctor said it would be less than a year. That gave him a year to live, something he'd failed to do with his daily drudgery of a routine that had passed as life until then. Hopes and dreams were dashed that day. It should have been expected, but it still came as a shock. The warning signs had been ignored in favor of the possibility, however remote, that it could actually happen. That possibility had grown from hope to an undeniable belief it must be destiny. That was until it wasn't and the hopes and dreams came crashing down. The red glint of paint sparkled under the sun. He had dreamed of owning this car since he was ten, and that dream had become a reality less than a year ago. It was his baby and he spent hours caring for it, pampering it, and fondling over it. She knew this all too well, and that's exactly why she had taken a sludge hammer to it. Do you think you're living an ordinary life? You are so mistaken it's difficult to even explain. The mere fact that you exist makes you extraordinary. The odds of you existing are less than winning the lottery, but here you are. Are you going to let this extraordinary opportunity pass? Cake or pie? I can tell a lot about you by which one you pick. It may seem silly, but cake people and pie people are really different. I know which one I hope you are, but that's not for me to decide. So, what is it? Cake or pie? The young man wanted a role model. He looked long and hard in his youth, but that role model never materialized. His only choice was to embrace all the people in his life he didn't want to be like. As she sat watching the world go by, something caught her eye. It wasn't so much its color or shape, but the way it was moving. She squinted to see if she could better understand what it was and where it was going, but it didn't help. As she continued to stare into the distance, she didn't understand why this uneasiness was building inside her body. She felt like she should get up and run. If only she could make out what it was. At that moment, she comprehended what it was and where it was heading, and she knew her life would never be the same. MaryLou wore the tiara with pride. There was something that made doing anything she didn't really want to do a bit easier when she wore it. She really didn't care what those staring through the window were thinking as she vacuumed her apartment. It wasn't quite yet time to panic. There was still time to salvage the situation. At least that is what she was telling himself. The reality was that it was time to panic and there wasn't time to salvage the situation, but he continued to delude himself into believing there was. She looked at her little girl who was about to become a teen. She tried to think back to when the girl had been younger but failed to pinpoint the exact moment when she had become a little too big to pick up and carry. It hit her all at once. She was no longer a little girl and she stood there speechless with fear, sadness, and pride all running through her at the same time. Her eyebrows were a shade darker than her hair. They were thick and almost horizontal, emphasizing the depth of her eyes. She was rather handsome than beautiful. Her face was captivating by reason of a certain frankness of expression and a contradictory subtle play of features. Her manner was engaging. He was an expert but not in a discipline that anyone could fully appreciate. He knew how to hold the cone just right so that the soft server ice-cream fell into it at the precise angle to form a perfect cone each and every time. It had taken years to perfect and he could now do it without even putting any thought behind it. Nobody seemed to fully understand the beauty of this accomplishment except for the new worker who watched in amazement.She nervously peered over the edge. She understood in her mind that the view was supposed to be beautiful, but all she felt was fear. There had always been something about heights that disturbed her, and now she could feel the full force of this unease. She reluctantly crept a little closer with the encouragement of her friends as the fear continued to build. She couldn't help but feel that something horrible was about to happen. According to the caption on the bronze marker placed by the Multnomah Chapter of the Daughters of the American Revolution on May 12, 1939, "College Hall (is) the oldest building in continuous use for Educational purposes west of the Rocky Mountains. Here were educated men and women who have won recognition throughout the world in all the learned professions." She reached her goal, exhausted. Even more chilling to her was that the euphoria that she thought she'd feel upon reaching it wasn't there. Something wasn't right. Was this the only feeling she'd have for over five years of hard work? I haven't bailed on writing. Look, I'm generating a random paragraph at this very moment in an attempt to get my writing back on track. I am making an effort. I will start writing consistently again! It wasn't quite yet time to panic. There was still time to salvage the situation. At least that is what she was telling himself. The reality was that it was time to panic and there wasn't time to salvage the situation, but he continued to delude himself into believing there was. He couldn't move. His head throbbed and spun. He couldn't decide if it was the flu or the drinking last night. It was probably a combination of both. Greg understood that this situation would make Michael terribly uncomfortable. Michael simply had no idea what was about to come and even though Greg could prevent it from happening, he opted to let it happen. It was quite ironic, really. It was something Greg had said he would never wish upon anyone a million times, yet here he was knowingly letting it happen to one of his best friends. He rationalized that it would ultimately make Michael a better person and that no matter how uncomfortable, everyone should experience racism at least once in their lifetime. I recollect that my first exploit in squirrel-shooting was in a grove of tall walnut-trees that shades one side of the valley. I had wandered into it at noontime, when all nature is peculiarly quiet, and was startled by the roar of my own gun, as it broke the Sabbath stillness around and was prolonged and reverberated by the angry echoes. It was difficult to explain to them how the diagnosis of certain death had actually given him life. While everyone around him was in tears and upset, he actually felt more at ease. The doctor said it would be less than a year. That gave him a year to live, something he'd failed to do with his daily drudgery of a routine that had passed as life until then. I've rented a car in Las Vegas and have reserved a hotel in Twentynine Palms which is just north of Joshua Tree. We'll drive from Las Vegas through Mojave National Preserve and possibly do a short hike on our way down. Then spend all day on Monday at Joshua Tree. We can decide the next morning if we want to do more in Joshua Tree or Mojave before we head back. He watched as the young man tried to impress everyone in the room with his intelligence. There was no doubt that he was smart. The fact that he was more intelligent than anyone else in the room could have been easily deduced, but nobody was really paying any attention due to the fact that it was also obvious that the young man only cared about his intelligence. They rushed out the door, grabbing anything and everything they could think of they might need. There was no time to double-check to make sure they weren't leaving something important behind. Everything was thrown into the car and they sped off. Thirty minutes later they were safe and that was when it dawned on them that they had forgotten the most important thing of all. Indescribable oppression, which seemed to generate in some unfamiliar part of her consciousness, filled her whole being with a vague anguish. It was like a shadow, like a mist passing across her soul's summer day. It was strange and unfamiliar; it was a mood. She did not sit there inwardly upbraiding her husband, lamenting at Fate, which had directed her footsteps to the path which they had taken. She was just having a good cry all to herself. The mosquitoes made merry over her, biting her firm, round arms and nipping at her bare insteps. Dave watched as the forest burned up on the hill, only a few miles from her house. The car had been hastily packed and Marta was inside trying to round up the last of the pets. Dave went through his mental list of the most important papers and documents that they couldn't leave behind. He scolded himself for not having prepared these better in advance and hoped that he had remembered everything that was needed. He continued to wait for Marta to appear with the pets, but she still was nowhere to be seen. MaryLou wore the tiara with pride. There was something that made doing anything she didn't really want to do a bit easier when she wore it. She really didn't care what those staring through the window were thinking as she vacuumed her apartment. It was that terrifying feeling you have as you tightly hold the covers over you with the knowledge that there is something hiding under your bed. You want to look, but you don't at the same time. You're frozen with fear and unable to act. That's where she found herself and she didn't know what to do next He took a sip of the drink. He wasn't sure whether he liked it or not, but at this moment it didn't matter. She had made it especially for him so he would have forced it down even if he had absolutely hated it. That's simply the way things worked. She made him a new-fangled drink each day and he took a sip of it and smiled, saying it was excellent. There are only three ways to make this work. The first is to let me take care of everything. The second is for you to take care of everything. The third is to split everything 50 / 50. I think the last option is the most preferable, but I'm certain it'll also mean the end of our marriage. It was a concerning development that he couldn't get out of his mind. He'd had many friends throughout his early years and had fond memories of playing with them, but he couldn't understand how it had all stopped. There was some point as he grew up that he played with each of his friends for the very last time, and he had no idea that it would be the last. The trees, therefore, must be such old and primitive techniques that they thought nothing of them, deeming them so inconsequential that even savages like us would know of them and not be suspicious. At that, they probably didn't have too much time after they detected us orbiting and intending to land. And if that were true, there could be only one place where their civilization was hidden. The red glint of paint sparkled under the sun. He had dreamed of owning this car since he was ten, and that dream had become a reality less than a year ago. It was his baby and he spent hours caring for it, pampering it, and fondling over it. She knew this all too well, and that's exactly why she had taken a sludge hammer to it. There are different types of secrets. She had held onto plenty of them during her life, but this one was different. She found herself holding onto the worst type. It was the type of secret that could gnaw away at your insides if you didn't tell someone about it, but it could end up getting you killed if you did. There was something special about this little creature. Donna couldn't quite pinpoint what it was, but she knew with all her heart that it was true. It wasn't a matter of if she was going to try and save it, but a matter of how she was going to save it. She went back to the car to get a blanket and when she returned the creature was gone. She tried not to judge him. His ratty clothes and unkempt hair made him look homeless. Was he really the next Einstein as she had been told? On the off chance it was true, she continued to try not to judge him. He was an expert but not in a discipline that anyone could fully appreciate. He knew how to hold the cone just right so that the soft server ice-cream fell into it at the precise angle to form a perfect cone each and every time. It had taken years to perfect and he could now do it without even putting any thought behind it. Nobody seemed to fully understand the beauty of this accomplishment except for the new worker who watched in amazement. Green vines attached to the trunk of the tree had wound themselves toward the top of the canopy. Ants used the vine as their private highway, avoiding all the creases and crags of the bark, to freely move at top speed from top to bottom or bottom to top depending on their current chore. At least this was the way it was supposed to be. Something had damaged the vine overnight halfway up the tree leaving a gap in the once pristine ant highway. She had come to the conclusion that you could tell a lot about a person by their ears. The way they stuck out and the size of the earlobes could give you wonderful insights into the person. Of course, she couldn't scientifically prove any of this, but that didn't matter to her. Before anything else, she would size up the ears of the person she was talking to. There wasn't a bird in the sky, but that was not what caught her attention. It was the clouds. The deep green that isn't the color of clouds, but came with these. She knew what was coming and she hoped she was prepared. The cab arrived late. The inside was in as bad of shape as the outside which was concerning, and it didn't appear that it had been cleaned in months. The green tree air-freshener hanging from the rearview mirror was either exhausted of its scent or not strong enough to overcome the other odors emitting from the cab. The correct decision, in this case, was to get the hell out of it and to call another cab, but she was late and didn't have a choice. Here's the thing. She doesn't have anything to prove, but she is going to anyway. That's just her character. She knows she doesn't have to, but she still will just to show you that she can. Doubt her more and she'll prove she can again. We all already know this and you will too. "Are you getting my texts???" she texted to him. He glanced at it and chuckled under his breath. Of course he was getting them, but if he wasn't getting them, how would he ever be able to answer? He put the phone down and continued on his project. He was ignoring her texts and he planned to continue to do so. Colors bounced around in her head. They mixed and threaded themselves together. Even colors that had no business being together. They were all one, yet distinctly separate at the same time. How was she going to explain this to the others? What have you noticed today? I noticed that if you outline the eyes, nose, and mouth on your face with your finger, you make an "I" which makes perfect sense, but is something I never noticed before. What have you noticed today? The young man wanted a role model. He looked long and hard in his youth, but that role model never materialized. His only choice was to embrace all the people in his life he didn't want to be like. His parents continued to question him. He didn't know what to say to them since they refused to believe the truth. He explained again and again, and they dismissed his explanation as a figment of his imagination. There was no way that grandpa, who had been dead for five years, could have told him where the treasure had been hidden. Of course, it didn't help that grandpa was roaring with laughter in the chair next to him as he tried to explain once again how he'd found it. She counted. One. She could hear the steps coming closer. Two. Puffs of breath could be seen coming from his mouth. Three. He stopped beside her. Four. She pulled the trigger of the gun. Do you really listen when you are talking with someone? I have a friend who listens in an unforgiving way. She actually takes every word you say as being something important and when you have a friend that listens like that, words take on a whole new meaning. He had three simple rules by which he lived. The first was to never eat blue food. There was nothing in nature that was edible that was blue. People often asked about blueberries, but everyone knows those are actually purple. He understood it was one of the stranger rules to live by, but it had served him well thus far in the 50+ years of his life. Was it enough? That was the question he kept asking himself. Was being satisfied enough? He looked around him at everyone yearning to just be satisfied in their daily life and he had reached that goal. He knew that he was satisfied and he also knew it wasn't going to be enough. There once lived an old man and an old woman who were peasants and had to work hard to earn their daily bread. The old man used to go to fix fences and do other odd jobs for the farmers around, and while he was gone the old woman, his wife, did the work of the house and worked in their own little plot of land. This is important to remember. Love isn't like pie. You don't need to divide it among all your friends and loved ones. No matter how much love you give, you can always give more. It doesn't run out, so don't try to hold back giving it as if it may one day run out. Give it freely and as much as you want. Things aren't going well at all with mom today. She is just a limp noodle and wants to sleep all the time. I sure hope that things get better soon. Pink ponies and purple giraffes roamed the field. Cotton candy grew from the ground as a chocolate river meandered off to the side. What looked like stones in the pasture were actually rock candy. Everything in her dream seemed to be perfect except for the fact that she had no mouth. What were they eating? It didn't taste like anything she had ever eaten before and although she was famished, she didn't dare ask. She knew the answer would be one she didn't want to hear. There were little things that she simply could not stand. The sound of someone tapping their nails on the table. A person chewing with their mouth open. Another human imposing themselves into her space. She couldn't stand any of these things, but none of them compared to the number one thing she couldn't stand which topped all of them combined. Sometimes that's just the way it has to be. Sure, there were probably other options, but he didn't let them enter his mind. It was done and that was that. It was just the way it had to be. The amber droplet hung from the branch, reaching fullness and ready to drop. It waited. While many of the other droplets were satisfied to form as big as they could and release, this droplet had other plans. It wanted to be part of history. It wanted to be remembered long after all the other droplets had dissolved into history. So it waited for the perfect specimen to fly by to trap and capture that it hoped would eventually be discovered hundreds of years in the future. Debbie put her hand into the hole, sliding her hand down as far as her arm could reach. She wiggled her fingers hoping to touch something, but all she felt was air. She shifted the weight of her body to try and reach an inch or two more down the hole. Her fingers still touched nothing but air. It had been her dream for years but Dana had failed to take any action toward making it come true. There had always been a good excuse to delay or prioritize another project. As she woke, she realized she was once again at a crossroads. Would it be another excuse or would she finally find the courage to pursue her dream? Dana rose and took her first step. "What is the best way to get what you want?" she asked. He looked down at the ground knowing that she wouldn't like his answer. He hesitated, knowing that the truth would only hurt. How was he going to tell her that the best way for him to get what he wanted was to leave her?