“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.
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.
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 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.
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.
There was no time. He ran out of the door without half the stuff he needed for work, but it didn’t matter. He was late and if he didn’t make this meeting on time, someone’s life may be in danger.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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?
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.
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.
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.
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.
“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?”
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
“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.
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.
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.
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.
It was a weird concept. Why would I really need to generate a random paragraph? Could I actually learn something from doing so? All these questions were running through her head as she pressed the generate button. To her surprise, she found what she least expected to see.
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 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.
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.
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.
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.
It was going to rain. The weather forecast didn’t say that, but the steel plate in his hip did. He had learned over the years to trust his hip over the weatherman. It was going to rain, so he better get outside and prepare.
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.
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.
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.
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?
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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 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.
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…
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?
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.
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.
She was in a hurry. Not the standard hurry when you’re in a rush to get someplace, but a frantic hurry. The type of hurry where a few seconds could mean life or death. She raced down the road ignoring speed limits and weaving between cars. She was only a few minutes away when traffic came to a dead standstill on the road ahead.
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?
He sat across from her trying to imagine it was the first time. It wasn’t. Had it been a hundred? It quite possibly could have been. Two hundred? Probably not. His mind wandered until he caught himself and again tried to imagine it was the first time.
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“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.
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.
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 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.
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.
There was no time. He ran out of the door without half the stuff he needed for work, but it didn’t matter. He was late and if he didn’t make this meeting on time, someone’s life may be in danger.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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?
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.
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.
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.
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.
“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?”
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
“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.
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.
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.
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.
It was a weird concept. Why would I really need to generate a random paragraph? Could I actually learn something from doing so? All these questions were running through her head as she pressed the generate button. To her surprise, she found what she least expected to see.
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 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.
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.
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.
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.
It was going to rain. The weather forecast didn’t say that, but the steel plate in his hip did. He had learned over the years to trust his hip over the weatherman. It was going to rain, so he better get outside and prepare.
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.
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.
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.
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?
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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 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.
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…
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?
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.
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.
She was in a hurry. Not the standard hurry when you’re in a rush to get someplace, but a frantic hurry. The type of hurry where a few seconds could mean life or death. She raced down the road ignoring speed limits and weaving between cars. She was only a few minutes away when traffic came to a dead standstill on the road ahead.
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?
He sat across from her trying to imagine it was the first time. It wasn’t. Had it been a hundred? It quite possibly could have been. Two hundred? Probably not. His mind wandered until he caught himself and again tried to imagine it was the first time.