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A Silent Voice: My Childhood Friend Is Nishimiya Shoko

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Synopsis
In my past life, I was just a light novel enthusiast. But fate had other plans. After a tragic accident, I was reborn in Japan—just in time to meet the Nishimiya family who had moved in next door. That’s when I met Shoko Nishimiya, a sweet three-year-old girl recently diagnosed with hearing loss. Her father walked out, leaving behind heartbreak. But this wasn’t the Shoko from manga or anime. This Shoko’s life took a new turn—because of me. From that moment, she became my loyal little shadow. Kindergarten, grade school, high school, college, careers, marriage, growing old—we walked through every chapter of life side by side. And as I watched her grow, I realized something strange: none of the anime or light novels I once loved existed in this world. So I made a choice—if they don’t exist, I’ll create them. I'll bless this boring world with banger animes, LN and Mangas.
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Chapter 1 - wor'd fill-er

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.

They had made it to Las Vegas, wide-eyed and with so much hope and energy. They had planned the trip for more than a year and both were so excited they could barely control themselves. They still hadn't realized that Las Vegas promised a place where dreams come true, it was actually the place where dreams came to die.

Ten more steps. If he could take ten more steps it would be over, but his legs wouldn't move. He tried to will them to work, but they wouldn't listen to his brain. Ten more steps and it would be over but it didn't appear he would be able to do it.

Stormi is a dog. She is dark grey and has long legs. Her eyes are expressive and are able to let her humans know what she is thinking. Her tongue is long, pink, and wet. Her long legs allow her to sprint after other dogs, people or bunnies. She can be a good dog, but also very bad. Her tail wags when happy or excited and hides between her back legs when she is bad. Stormi is a dog I love.

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.

Finding the red rose in the mailbox was a pleasant surprise for Sarah. She didn't have a boyfriend or know of anyone who was interested in her as anything more than a friend. There wasn't even a note attached to it. Although it was a complete mystery, it still made her heart jump and race a little more than usual. She wished that she could simply accept the gesture and be content knowing someone had given it to her, but that wasn't the way Sarah did things. Now it was time to do a little detective work and try to figure who had actually left the red rose.

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.

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.

It was their first date and she had been looking forward to it the entire week. She had her eyes on him for months, and it had taken a convoluted scheme with several friends to make it happen, but he'd finally taken the hint and asked her out. After all the time and effort she'd invested into it, she never thought that it would be anything but wonderful. It goes without saying that things didn't work out quite as she expected.

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.

Twenty-five years Dana had been waiting. She tried to be patient during that time but she hadn't always managed to be as patient as she'd like. But today the opportunity had finally come. The thing she always imagined would make her the happiest person in the world was about to happen. She didn't know why at this specific time she all of a sudden felt sick inside.

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.

Waiting and watching. It was all she had done for the past weeks. When you're locked in a room with nothing but food and drink, that's about all you can do anyway. She watched as birds flew past the window bolted shut. She couldn't reach it if she wanted too, with that hole in the floor. She thought she could escape through it but three stories is a bit far down.

He couldn't remember exactly where he had read it, but he was sure that he had. The fact that she didn't believe him was quite frustrating as he began to search the Internet to find the article. It wasn't as if it was something that seemed impossible. Yet she insisted on always seeing the source whenever he stated a fact.

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.

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.

It was a good idea. At least, they all thought it was a good idea at the time. Hindsight would reveal that in reality, it was an unbelievably terrible idea, but it would take another week for them to understand that. Right now, at this very moment. they all agreed that it was the perfect course of action for the current situation.

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 thing that's great about this job is the time sourcing the items involves no traveling. I just look online to buy it. It's really as simple as that. While everyone else is searching for what they can sell, I sit in front of my computer and buy better stuff for less money and spend a fraction of the time doing it.

There was nothing to indicate Nancy was going to change the world. She looked like an average girl going to an average high school. It was the fact that everything about her seemed average that would end up becoming her superpower.

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.

She's asked the question so many times that she barely listened to the answers anymore. The answers were always the same. Well, not exactly the same, but the same in a general sense. A more accurate description was the answers never surprised her. So, she asked for the 10,000th time, "What's your favorite animal?" But this time was different. When she heard the young boy's answer, she wondered if she had heard him correctly.

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's always good to bring a slower friend with you on a hike. If you happen to come across bears, the whole group doesn't have to worry. Only the slowest in the group do. That was the lesson they were about to learn that day.

He read about a hike called the incline in the guidebook. It said it was a strenuous hike and to bring plenty of water. "A beautiful hike to the clouds" described one review. "Not for the faint-hearted," said another. "Not too bad of a workout", bragged a third review. I thought I'd hike it when I fly in from Maryland on my day off from the senior citizen's wellness conference. I hiked 2 miles a day around the neighborhood so I could handle a 1.1-mile hike. What a foolish mistake that was for a 70-year-old low-lander.

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 song came from the bathroom belting over the sound of the shower's running water. It was the same way each day began since he could remember. It listened intently and concluded that the singing today was as terrible as it had ever been.

The bridge spanning a 100-foot gully stood in front of him as the last obstacle blocking him from reaching his destination. While people may have called it a "bridge", the reality was it was nothing more than splintered wooden planks held together by rotting ropes. It was questionable whether it would hold the weight of a child, let alone the weight of a grown man. The problem was there was no other way across the gully, and this played into his calculations of whether or not it was worth the risk of trying to cross it.

They had no proof. He knew that they knew he had done it but they didn't have any proof. It was a huge distinction and it was the difference between him keeping his freedom or being locked away for decades. They continued to question him, probing him for information that they could use against him or find the proof they needed to put him away. He smiled and continued to block their every inquiry by feigning his innocence for a crime they all knew he committed.

Patrick didn't want to go. The fact that she was insisting they must go made him want to go even less. He had no desire to make small talk with strangers he would never again see just to be polite. But she insisted that Patrick go, and she would soon find out that this would be the biggest mistake she could make in their relationship.

The shades were closed keeping the room dark. Peter knew that he should open them and let in the sunlight so he could begin the day, but he didn't have the energy or willpower. Nothing had gone as expected the day before and he no longer wanted to spend the energy to begin a new day. He stared at the shades wondering if there was a way to disappear from the reality of the world for the rest of the day.

The red line moved across the page. With each millimeter it advanced forward, something changed in the room. The actual change taking place was difficult to perceive, but the change was real. The red line continued relentlessly across the page and the room would never be the same.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Turning away from the ledge, he started slowly down the mountain, deciding that he would, that very night, satisfy his curiosity about the man-house. In the meantime, he would go down into the canyon and get a cool drink, after which he would visit some berry patches just over the ridge, and explore among the foothills a bit before his nap-time, which always came just after the sun had walked past the middle of the sky. At that period of the day the sun's warm rays seemed to cast a sleepy spell over the silent mountainside, so all of the animals, with one accord, had decided it should be the hour for their mid-day sleep.

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 really shouldn't have mattered to Betty. That's what she kept trying to convince herself even if she knew it mattered to Betty more than practically anything else. Why was she trying to convince herself otherwise? As she stepped forward to knock on Betty's door, she still didn't have a convincing answer to this question that she'd been asking herself for more than two years now.

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.

His mother had always taught him not to ever think of himself as better than others. He'd tried to live by this motto. He never looked down on those who were less fortunate or who had less money than him. But the stupidity of the group of people he was talking to made him change his mind.

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.

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.

The drug seekers would come into the emergency room and scream about how much pain they were in. When you told them that you would start elevating their pain with Tylenol or Advil instead of a narcotic they became nasty and combative. They would start telling you what drug and dose they had to have to make their pain tolerable. After dealing with the same drug seekers several times a month it gets old. Some of the doctors would give in and give them a dose of morphine and send them away. Sure that was faster, but ethically she still couldn't do it. Perhaps that's why she had longer care times than the other doctors.

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.

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 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.

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 wave roared towards them with speed and violence they had not anticipated. They both turned to run but by that time it was too late. The wave crashed into their legs sweeping both of them off of their feet. They now found themselves in a washing machine of saltwater, getting tumbled and not know what was up or down. Both were scared, not knowing how this was going to end, but it was by far the best time of the trip thus far.

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.The light was out on the front porch of the house. This was strange. Judy couldn't remember a time when she had ever seen it out. She hopped out of her car and walked to the door. It was slightly ajar and she knew this meant something terrible. She gently pushed the door open and hall her fears were realized. "Surprise! Happy Birthday!" everyone shouted.

The wave roared towards them with speed and violence they had not anticipated. They both turned to run but by that time it was too late. The wave crashed into their legs sweeping both of them off of their feet. They now found themselves in a washing machine of saltwater, getting tumbled and not know what was up or down. Both were scared, not knowing how this was going to end, but it was by far the best time of the trip thus far.

The time to take action was now. All three men knew in their hearts this was the case, yet none of them moved a muscle to try. They were all watching and waiting for one of the others to make the first move so they could follow a step or two behind and help. The situation demanded a leader and all three men were followers.

The kids were loud. They were way too loud for Jerry, especially since this was a four-hour flight. The parents didn't seem to be able, or simply didn't want, to control them. They were yelling and fighting among themselves and it was impossible for any of the passengers to concentrate or rest. He thought about politely tapping on the parents' shoulders and asking them to try and get their kids under a bit more control, but before he did he came up with a better idea. Sure, it was a bit sinister, and he'd probably end p in a lot of trouble, but he really didn't care at that point.

It was a simple tip of the hat. Grace didn't think that anyone else besides her had even noticed it. It wasn't anything that the average person would notice, let alone remember at the end of the day. That's why it seemed so unbelievable that this little gesture would ultimately change the course of the world.

The fog was as thick as pea soup. This was a problem. Gary was driving but couldn't see a thing in front of him. He knew he should stop, but the road was narrow so if he did, it would be right in the center of the road. He was sure that another car would end up rear-ending him, so he continued forward despite the lack of visibility. This was an unwise move.

Debbie knew she was being selfish and unreasonable. She understood why the others in the room were angry and frustrated with her and the way she was acting. In her eyes, it didn't really matter how they felt because she simply didn't care.

Life isn't always beautiful. That was a lesson that Dan was learning. He also realized that life wasn't easy. This had come as a shock since he had lived a charmed life. He hated that this was the truth and he struggled to be happy knowing that his assumptions weren't correct. He wouldn't realize until much later in life that the difficult obstacles he was facing that were taking away the beauty in his life at this moment would ultimately make his life much more beautiful. All he knew was that at this moment was that life isn't always beautiful.

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 singing 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 shades were closed keeping the room dark. Peter knew that he should open them and let in the sunlight so he could begin the day, but he didn't have the energy or willpower. Nothing had gone as expected the day before and he no longer wanted to spend the energy to begin a new day. He stared at the shades wondering if there was a way to disappear from the reality of the world for the rest of the day.

They needed to find a place to eat. The kids were beginning to get grumpy in the back seat and if they didn't find them food soon, it was just a matter of time before they were faced with a complete meltdown. Even knowing this, the solution wasn't easy. Everyone in the car had a different opinion on where the best place to eat would be with nobody agreeing with the suggestions of the others. It seemed to be an impossible no-win situation where not everyone would be happy no matter where they decided to eat which in itself would lead to a meltdown. Yet a decision needed to be made and it needed to be made quickly.

"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 trap he'd been planning for years.

They had always called it the green river. It made sense. The river was green. The river likely had a different official name, but to everyone in town, it was and had always been the green river. So it was with great surprise that on this day the green river was a fluorescent pink.

It had been a rough day. Things hadn't gone as planned and that meant Hannah got yelled at by her boss. It didn't even matter that it wasn't her fault. When things went wrong at work, Hannah got the blame no matter the actual circumstances. It wasn't fair, but there was little she could do without risking her job, and she wasn't in a position to do that with the plans she had.

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.

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.

Although Scott said it didn't matter to him, he knew deep inside that it did. They had been friends as long as he could remember and not once had he had to protest that something Joe apologized for doing didn't really matter. Scott stuck to his lie and insisted again and again that everything was fine as Joe continued to apologize. Scott already knew that despite his words accepting the apologies that their friendship would never be the same.

What were the chances? It would have to be a lot more than 100 to 1. It was likely even more than 1,000 to 1. The more he thought about it, the odds of it happening had to be more than 10,000 to 1 and even 100,000 to 1. People often threw around the chances of something happening as being 1,000,000 to 1 as an exaggeration of an unlikely event, but he could see that they may actually be accurate in this situation. Whatever the odds of it happening, he knew they were big. What he didn't know was whether this happening was lucky or unlucky.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

The irony of the situation hadn't escaped her. She had taken years to sculpt the perfect persona with the perfect look that she shared on Instagram. She knew her hundreds of thousands of followers envied that life she showed and stayed engaged with her because they wanted that life too. The truth was that she wanted the perfect life she portrayed more than any of her fans. The fact was that despite all the perfection she shared on social media, her life was actually more of a mess than most.

She sat down with her notebook in her hand, her mind wandering to faraway places. She paused and considered all that had happened. It hadn't gone as expected. When the day began she thought it was going to be a bad one, but as she sat recalling the day's events to write them down, she had to admit, it had been a rather marvelous day.

It was difficult for him to admit he was wrong. He had been so certain that he was correct and the deeply held belief could never be shaken. Yet the proof that he had been incorrect stood right before his eyes. "See daddy, I told you that they are real!" his daughter excitedly proclaimed.

All he wanted was a candy bar. It didn't seem like a difficult request to comprehend, but the clerk remained frozen and didn't seem to want to honor the request. It might have had something to do with the gun pointed at his face.

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.

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.

How had she been so wrong? All her instincts and intuition completely failed her for the first time in her life. She had so heavily relied on both when making decisions up until this moment and she felt a seismic shift take place in her self-confidence. If she could be so completely wrong about something so simple as this, how could she make decisions about really important things taking place in her life? She wasn't sure what she should do next.

It was cloudy outside but not really raining. There was a light sprinkle at most and there certainly wasn't a need for an umbrella. This hadn't stopped Sarah from pulling her umbrella out and opening it. It had nothing to do with the weather or the potential rain later that day. Sarah used the umbrella to hide.

"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.

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 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?

Her hair was a tangled mess which she tried to make presentable by putting in a lump on the top of her head. It didn't really work although it was a valiant attempt. While most people simply noticed the tangled mess on top of her head, what most people failed to understand that within the tangles mess was an entirely new year. That was her secret. She kept worlds on top of her head.

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.

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.

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.

The alarm went off and Jake rose awake. Rising early had become a daily ritual, one that he could not fully explain. From the outside, it was a wonder that he was able to get up so early each morning for someone who had absolutely no plans to be productive during the entire day.

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.

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.

If you can imagine a furry humanoid seven feet tall, with the face of an intelligent gorilla and the braincase of a man, you'll have a rough idea of what they looked like -- except for their teeth. The canines would have fitted better in the face of a tiger, and showed at the corners of their wide, thin-lipped mouths, giving them an expression of ferocity.

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 wasn't a whole lot he could do at that moment. He played the situation again and again in his head looking at what he might have done differently to make the situation better. No matter how many times he relived the situation in his head, there was never really a good alternative course of action. There simply wasn't a whole lot he could have done in that particular moment.

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.

It all started with the computer. Had he known what was to follow, he would have never logged on that day. But the truth was there was no way to know what was about to happen. So Dave pressed the start button, the computer booted up, the screen came alive, and everything Dave knew to be true no longer was.

There was little doubt that the bridge was unsafe. All one had to do was look at it to know that with certainty. Yet Bob didn't see another option. He may have been able to work one out if he had a bit of time to think things through, but time was something he didn't have. A choice needed to be made, and it needed to be made quickly.

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.

Wandering down the path to the pond had become a daily routine. Even when the weather wasn't cooperating like today with the wind and rain, Jerry still took the morning stroll down the path until he reached the pond. Although there didn't seem to be a particular reason Jerry did this to anyone looking in from the outside, those who knew him well knew exactly what was going on. It could all be traced back to a specific incident that happened exactly 5 years previously.

Puppies are soft, cute, funny, and make a big mess. Every month or two our family fosters 6-12 week old puppies for a puppy rescue nonprofit organization. We all enjoy cuddling their furry bodies after a clean bath. Fresh puppy smell is great. The puppies play with each other and our adult dog. They look so funny when they lay on top of each other and sleep. While puppies can be great fun, they also can make big messes. 4-6 puppies can make a lot of puppy pee and poop. It's a challenge to keep the puppies and the puppy pen clean.

The choice was red, green, or blue. It didn't seem like an important choice when he was making it, but it was a choice nonetheless. Had he known the consequences at that time, he would likely have considered the choice a bit longer. In the end, he didn't and ended up choosing blue.

Turning away from the ledge, he started slowly down the mountain, deciding that he would, that very night, satisfy his curiosity about the man-house. In the meantime, he would go down into the canyon and get a cool drink, after which he would visit some berry patches just over the ridge, and explore among the foothills a bit before his nap-time, which always came just after the sun had walked past the middle of the sky. At that period of the day the sun's warm rays seemed to cast a sleepy spell over the silent mountainside, so all of the animals, with one accord, had decided it should be the hour for their mid-day sleep.

Sometimes it's the first moment of the day that catches you off guard. That's what Wendy was thinking. She opened her window to see fire engines screeching down the street. While this wasn't something completely unheard of, it also wasn't normal. It was a sure sign of what was going to happen that day. She could feel it in her bones and it wasn't the way she wanted the day to begin.

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 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.

Matt told her to reach for the stars, but Veronica thought it was the most ridiculous advice she'd ever received. Sure, it had been well-meaning when he said it, but she didn't understand why anyone would want to suggest something that would literally kill you if you actually managed to achieve it.

There was a time when this wouldn't have bothered her. The fact that it did actually bother her bothered her even more. What had changed in her life that such a small thing could annoy her so much for the entire day? She knew it was ridiculous that she even took notice of it, yet she was still obsessing over it as she tried to fall asleep.

He stepped away from the mic. This was the best take he had done so far, but something seemed missing. Then it struck him all at once. Visuals ran in front of his eyes and music rang in his ears. His eager fingers went to work in an attempt to capture his thoughts hoping the results would produce something that was at least half their glory.

It's always good to bring a slower friend with you on a hike. If you happen to come across bears, the whole group doesn't have to worry. Only the slowest in the group do. That was the lesson they were about to learn that day.

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.

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 collected the plastic trash on a daily basis. It never seemed to end. Even if he cleaned the entire beach, more plastic would cover it the next day after the tide had come in. Although it was a futile effort that would never be done, he continued to pick up the trash each day.

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.

The bridge spanning a 100-foot gully stood in front of him as the last obstacle blocking him from reaching his destination. While people may have called it a "bridge", the reality was it was nothing more than splintered wooden planks held together by rotting ropes. It was questionable whether it would hold the weight of a child, let alone the weight of a grown man. The problem was there was no other way across the gully, and this played into his calculations of whether or not it was worth the risk of trying to cross it.

It all started with a random letter. Several of those were joined forces to create a random word. The words decided to get together and form a random sentence. They decided not to stop there and it wasn't long before a random paragraph had been cobbled together. The question was whether or not they could continue the momentum long enough to create a random short story.

They decided to find the end of the rainbow. While they hoped they would find a pot of gold, neither of them truly believed that the mythical pot would actually be there. Nor did they believe they could actually find the end of the rainbow. Still, it seemed like a fun activity for the day, and pictures of them chasing rainbows would look great on their Instagram accounts. They would have never believed they would actually find the end of a rainbow, and when they did, what they actually found there.

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.

Betty decided to write a short story and she was sure it was going to be amazing. She had already written it in her head and each time she thought about it she grinned from ear to ear knowing how wonderful it would be. She could imagine the accolades coming in and the praise she would receive for creating such a wonderful piece. She was therefore extremely frustrated when she actually sat down to write the short story and the story that was so beautiful inside her head refused to come out that way on paper.

I love the feel of wood curls flying off the lathe as I begin to shape the log in front of me. The sound of scraping changes based on the wetness of the wood, the speed at which the lathe is turning, and the type of cut I am making. The smell and feel of wet wood being turned are unique. The water is sprayed out as I cut through the different layers of wood. A log can turn into anything one's imagination can think of with the right set of hands-on tools. I have those hands and imagination. I use all of my senses and intuition to create a beautiful object. That is why I enjoy turning wood.

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.

Then came the night of the first falling star. It was seen early in the morning, rushing over Winchester eastward, a line of flame high in the atmosphere. Hundreds must have seen it and taken it for an ordinary falling star. It seemed that it fell to earth about one hundred miles east of him.

Wandering down the path to the pond had become a daily routine. Even when the weather wasn't cooperating like today with the wind and rain, Jerry still took the morning stroll down the path until he reached the pond. Although there didn't seem to be a particular reason Jerry did this to anyone looking in from the outside, those who knew him well knew exactly what was going on. It could all be traced back to a specific incident that happened exactly 5 years previously.

There was a time in his life when her rudeness would have set him over the edge. He would have raised his voice and demanded to speak to the manager. That was no longer the case. He barely reacted at all, letting the rudeness melt away without saying a word back to her. He had been around long enough to know where rudeness came from and how unhappy the person must be to act in that way. All he could do was feel pity and be happy that he didn't feel the way she did to lash out like that.

There weren't supposed to be dragons flying in the sky. First and foremost, dragons didn't exist. They were mythical creatures from fantasy books like unicorns. This was something that Pete knew in his heart to be true so he was having a difficult time acknowledging that there were actually fire-breathing dragons flying in the sky above him.

He read about a hike called the incline in the guidebook. It said it was a strenuous hike and to bring plenty of water. "A beautiful hike to the clouds" described one review. "Not for the faint-hearted," said another. "Not too bad of a workout", bragged a third review. I thought I'd hike it when I fly in from Maryland on my day off from the senior citizen's wellness conference. I hiked 2 miles a day around the neighborhood so I could handle a 1.1-mile hike. What a foolish mistake that was for a 70-year-old low-lander.

It wasn't that he hated her. It was simply that he didn't like her much. It was difficult for him to explain this to her, and even more difficult for her to truly understand. She was in love and wanted him to feel the same way. He didn't, and no matter how he tried to explain to her she refused to listen or to understand.

Sometimes it's simply better to ignore the haters. That's the lesson that Tom's dad had been trying to teach him, but Tom still couldn't let it go. He latched onto them and their hate and couldn't let it go, but he also realized that this wasn't healthy. That's when he came up with his devious plan.

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.

Sometimes it's just better not to be seen. That's how Harry had always lived his life. He prided himself as being the fly on the wall and the fae that blended into the crowd. That's why he was so shocked that she noticed him.

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!

Finding the red rose in the mailbox was a pleasant surprise for Sarah. She didn't have a boyfriend or know of anyone who was interested in her as anything more than a friend. There wasn't even a note attached to it. Although it was a complete mystery, it still made her heart jump and race a little more than usual. She wished that she could simply accept the gesture and be content knowing someone had given it to her, but that wasn't the way Sarah did things. Now it was time to do a little detective work and try to figure who had actually left the red rose.

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 was something in the sky. What exactly was up there wasn't immediately clear. But there was definitely something in the sky and it was getting bigger and bigger.

There were about twenty people on the dam. Most of them were simply walking and getting exercise. There were a few who were fishing. There was a family who had laid down a blanket and they were having a picnic. It was like this most days and nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The problem was that nobody noticed the water leaking through the dam wall.

She sat down with her notebook in her hand, her mind wandering to faraway places. She paused and considered all that had happened. It hadn't gone as expected. When the day began she thought it was going to be a bad one, but as she sat recalling the day's events to write them down, she had to admit, it had been a rather marvelous day.

They told her that this was her once chance to show the world what she was made of. She believed them at the time. It was the big stage and she knew the world would be there to see. The only one who had disagreed with this sentiment was her brother. He had told her that you don't show the world what you're made of when they are all watching, you show that in your actions when nobody was looking. It was looking more and more like her brother was correct.

What were the chances? It would have to be a lot more than 100 to 1. It was likely even more than 1,000 to 1. The more he thought about it, the odds of it happening had to be more than 10,000 to 1 and even 100,000 to 1. People often threw around the chances of something happening as being 1,000,000 to 1 as an exaggeration of an unlikely event, but he could see that they may actually be accurate in this situation. Whatever the odds of it happening, he knew they were big. What he didn't know was whether this happening was lucky or unlucky.

She sat deep in thought. The next word that came out o her mouth would likely be the most important word of her life. It had to be exact with no possibility of being misinterpreted. She was ready. She looked deeply into his eyes and said, "Octopus."

Was it a whisper or was it the wind? He wasn't quite sure. He thought he heard a voice but at this moment all he could hear was the wind rustling the leaves of the trees all around him. He stopped and listened more intently to see if he could hear the voice again. Nothing but the wind rustling the leaves could be heard. He was about to continue his walk when he felt a hand on his shoulder, and he quickly turned to see who it was. There was nobody there, but he heard the voice again.

He dropped the ball. While most people would think that this was a metaphor of some type, in Joe's case it was absolutely literal. He had hopes of reaching the Major League and that dream was now it great jeopardy. All because he had dropped the ball.

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.

Her breath exited her mouth in big puffs as if she were smoking a cigarette. The morning dew had made her clothes damp and she shivered from the chill in the air. There was only one thing that could get her up and out this early in the morning.

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.

The towels had been hanging from the rod for years. They were stained and worn, and quite frankly, just plain ugly. Debra didn't want to touch them but she really didn't have a choice. It was important for her to see what was living within them.

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?

It was the best compliment that he'd ever received although the person who gave it likely never knew. It had been an off-hand observation on his ability to hold a conversation and actually add pertinent information to it on practically any topic. Although he hadn't consciously strived to be able to do so, he'd started to voraciously read the news when he couldn't keep up on topics his friends discussed because their conversations went above his head. The fact that someone had noticed enough to compliment him that he could talk intelligently about many topics meant that he had succeeded in his quest to be better informed.

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.

It all started with the computer. Had he known what was to follow, he would have never logged on that day. But the truth was there was no way to know what was about to happen. So Dave pressed the start button, the computer booted up, the screen came alive, and everything Dave knew to be true no longer was.

She has seen this scene before. It had come to her in dreams many times before. She had to pinch herself to make sure it wasn't a dream again. As her fingers squeezed against her arm, she felt the pain. It was this pain that immediately woke her up.

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.

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.

He stepped away from the mic. This was the best take he had done so far, but something seemed missing. Then it struck him all at once. Visuals ran in front of his eyes and music rang in his ears. His eager fingers went to work in an attempt to capture his thoughts hoping the results would produce something that was at least half their glory.

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.

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.

It wasn't supposed to end that way. The plan had been meticulously thought out and practiced again and again. There was only one possible result once it had been implemented, but as they stood there the result wasn't anything close to what it should have been. They all blankly looked at each wondering how this could have happened. In their minds, they all began to blame the other members of the group as to why they had failed.

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 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 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.

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 really didn't matter what they did to him. He's already made up his mind. Whatever came his way, he was prepared for the consequences. He knew in his heart that the sacrifice he made was done with love and not hate no matter how others decided to spin it.

Twenty seconds were all that was left and Richard could hear each one tick by. Fifteen seconds now remained and the panic began to fully set in. Ten seconds and he wasn't sure he had enough time. Five seconds, four, three, two, one...

After hunting for several hours, we finally saw a large seal sunning itself on a flat rock. I took one of the wooden clubs while Larry took the longer one. We slowly snuck up behind the seal until we were close enough to club it over its head. The seal slumped over and died. This seal would help us survive. We could eat the meat and fat. The fat could be burned in a shell for light and the fur could be used to make a blanket. We declared our first day of hunting a great success.

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.

It all started with a random letter. Several of those were joined forces to create a random word. The words decided to get together and form a random sentence. They decided not to stop there and it wasn't long before a random paragraph had been cobbled together. The question was whether or not they could continue the momentum long enough to create a random short story.

There wasn't a whole lot he could do at that moment. He played the situation again and again in his head looking at what he might have done differently to make the situation better. No matter how many times he relived the situation in his head, there was never really a good alternative course of action. There simply wasn't a whole lot he could have done in that particular moment.

Patricia's friend who was here hardly had any issues at all, but she wasn't telling the truth. Yesterday, before she left to go home, she heard that her husband is in the hospital and pretended to be surprised. It later came out that she was the person who had put him there.

There was something in the sky. What exactly was up there wasn't immediately clear. But there was definitely something in the sky and it was getting bigger and bigger.

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's an unfortunate reality that we don't teach people how to make money (beyond getting a 9 to 5 job) as part of our education system. The truth is there are a lot of different, legitimate ways to make money. That doesn't mean they are easy and that you won't have to work hard to succeed, but it does mean that if you're willing to open your mind a bit you don't have to be stuck in an office from 9 to 5 for the next fifty years o your life.

Waiting and watching. It was all she had done for the past weeks. When you're locked in a room with nothing but food and drink, that's about all you can do anyway. She watched as birds flew past the window bolted shut. She couldn't reach it if she wanted too, with that hole in the floor. She thought she could escape through it but three stories is a bit far down.

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.

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.

He swung back the fishing pole and cast the line which ell 25 feet away into the river. The lure landed in the perfect spot and he was sure he would soon get a bite. He never expected that the bite would come from behind in the form of a bear.

Betty was a creature of habit and she thought she liked it that way. That was until Dave showed up in her life. She now had a choice to make and it would determine whether her lie remained the same or if it would change forever.

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 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.

The irony of the situation hadn't escaped her. She had taken years to sculpt the perfect persona with the perfect look that she shared on Instagram. She knew her hundreds of thousands of followers envied that life she showed and stayed engaged with her because they wanted that life too. The truth was that she wanted the perfect life she portrayed more than any of her fans. The fact was that despite all the perfection she shared on social media, her life was actually more of a mess than most.

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.

Nobody really understood Kevin. It wasn't that he was super strange or difficult. It was more that there wasn't enough there that anyone wanted to take the time to understand him. This was a shame as Kevin had many of the answers to the important questions most people who knew him had. It was even more of a shame that they'd refuse to listen even if Kevin offered to give them the answers. So, Kevin remained silent, misunderstood, and kept those important answers to life to himself.

Another option you have is choosing the number of syllables in the words you speak. You probably have never considered this option before, but you have it every time you open your mouth and speak. You make so many choices like this that you never even think about, but you have the choice with each one. What are you going to do with this knowledge?

It was difficult for him to admit he was wrong. He had been so certain that he was correct and the deeply held belief could never be shaken. Yet the proof that he had been incorrect stood right before his eyes. "See daddy, I told you that they are real!" his daughter excitedly proclaimed.

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.

The shades were closed keeping the room dark. Peter knew that he should open them and let in the sunlight so he could begin the day, but he didn't have the energy or willpower. Nothing had gone as expected the day before and he no longer wanted to spend the energy to begin a new day. He stared at the shades wondering if there was a way to disappear from the reality of the world for the rest of the day.

Matt told her to reach for the stars, but Veronica thought it was the most ridiculous advice she'd ever received. Sure, it had been well-meaning when he said it, but she didn't understand why anyone would want to suggest something that would literally kill you if you actually managed to achieve it.

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.

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'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.

The clowns had taken over. And yes, they were literally clowns. Over 100 had appeared out of a small VW bug that had been driven up to the bank. Now they were all inside and had taken it over.

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?

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.

"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 trap he'd been planning for years.

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.

Have you ever wondered about toes? Why 10 toes and not 12. Why are some bigger than others? Some people can use their toes to pick up things while others can barely move them on command. Some toes are nice to look at while others are definitely not something you want to look at. Toes can be stubbed and make us scream. Toes help us balance and walk. 10 toes are just something to ponder.

Welcome to my world. You will be greeted by the unexpected here and your mind will be challenged and expanded in ways that you never thought possible. That is if you are able to survive...

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 singing 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.

"So, what do you think?" he asked nervously. He wanted to know the answer, but at the same time, he didn't. He'd put his heart and soul into the project and he wasn't sure he'd be able to recover if they didn't like what he produced. The silence from the others in the room seemed to last a lifetime even though it had only been a moment since he asked the question. "So, what do you think?" he asked again.

Turning away from the ledge, he started slowly down the mountain, deciding that he would, that very night, satisfy his curiosity about the man-house. In the meantime, he would go down into the canyon and get a cool drink, after which he would visit some berry patches just over the ridge, and explore among the foothills a bit before his nap-time, which always came just after the sun had walked past the middle of the sky. At that period of the day the sun's warm rays seemed to cast a sleepy spell over the silent mountainside, so all of the animals, with one accord, had decided it should be the hour for their mid-day sleep.

Mary had to make a decision and she knew that whatever decision she made, it would upset someone. It seemed like such a silly reason for people to get upset but she knew the minute that she began to consider doing it that there was no way everyone in her life would be pleased with what she ultimately decided to do. It was simply a question of who she would rather displease most. While this had always been her parents, and especially her mom, in the past that she tried to keep from upsetting, she decided that this time the person she was going to please the most with her decision was herself.

He hid under the covers hoping that nobody would notice him there. It really didn't make much sense since it would be obvious to anyone who walked into the room there was someone hiding there, but he still held out hope. He heard footsteps coming down the hall and stop in front in front of the bedroom door. He heard the squeak of the door hinges and someone opened the bedroom door. He held his breath waiting for whoever was about to discover him, but they never did.