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. One foot in front of the other, One more step, and then one
more. Jack's only thoughts were to keep moving no matter how much his body screamed to stop and rest. He's
lost almost all his energy and his entire body ached beyond belief, but he forced himself to take another step.
Then another. And then one more. The desert wind blew the tumbleweed in front of the car. Alex swerved to
avoid the tumbleweed, but he turned the wheel a bit too strong and the car left the road and skidded onto the dirt
median. He instantly slammed on the brakes and the car stopped in a cloud of dirt. When the dust cloud had
settled and he could see around him again, he realized that he'd somehow crossed over into an entirely new
dimension. 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.
The river slowly meandered through the open space. It had hidden secrets that it didn't want to reveal. It had a
well-planned strategy to appear calm, inviting, and appealing. That's how the river lured her unknowing victims
to her water's edge. 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. 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. 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. 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. 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. Her
hand was balled into a fist with her keys protruding out from between her fingers. This was the weapon her
father had shown her how to make when she walked alone to her car after work. She wished that she had
something a little more potent than keys between her fingers. It would have been nice to have some mace or
pepper spray. He had been meaning to buy some but had never gotten around to it. As the mother bear took
another step forward with her cubs in tow, she knew her fist with keys wasn't going to be an adequate defense
for this situation. 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 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. 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. I recently discovered I could make
fudge with just chocolate chips, sweetened condensed milk, vanilla extract, and a thick pot on slow heat. I tried
it with dark chocolate chunks and I tried it with semi-sweet chocolate chips. It's better with both kinds. It comes
out pretty bad with just the dark chocolate. The best add-ins are crushed almonds and marshmallows -- what you
get from that is Rocky Road. It takes about twenty minutes from start to fridge, and then it takes about six
months to work off the twenty pounds you gain from eating it. All things in moderation, friends. All things in
moderation. It was difficult to explain to them how the diagnosis of certain death had actually given him life.
While everyone around him was in tears and upset, he actually felt more at ease. The doctor said it would be less
than a year. That gave him a year to live, something he'd failed to do with his daily drudgery of a routine that had
passed as life until then. A long black shadow slid across the pavement near their feet and the five Venusians,
very much startled, looked overhead. They were barely in time to see the huge gray form of the carnivore before
it vanished behind a sign atop a nearby building which bore the mystifying information "Pepsi-Cola." It had
been a simple realization that had changed Debra's life perspective. It was really so simple that she was
embarrassed that she had lived the previous five years with the way she measured her worth. Now that she saw
what she had been doing, she could see how sad it was. That made her all the more relieved she had made the
change. The number of hearts her Instagram posts received wasn't any longer the indication of her own selfworth. It had been a late night. To be more correct, it had been an early morning. It was now 3:00 AM and
George was just getting home. He wasn't sure if it had been worth it. He was supposed to have been finished by
10:00 PM, but his boss had implored him to stay and help when it was clear they weren't going to meet the 10:00
PM target time. So, he had stayed an extra 5 hours and lost a good night's sleep for something he didn't really
believe in, but he did anyway because he was afraid if he refused he might lose his job. He was an expert but not
in a discipline that anyone could fully appreciate. He knew how to hold the cone just right so that the soft server
ice-cream fell into it at the precise angle to form a perfect cone each and every time. It had taken years to perfect
and he could now do it without even putting any thought behind it. Nobody seemed to fully understand the
beauty of this accomplishment except for the new worker who watched in amazement. He 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 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. "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?" 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? 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. This is important to remember. Love isn't like pie. You don't need to divide it among all your
friends and loved ones. No matter how much love you give, you can always give more. It doesn't run out, so
don't try to hold back giving it as if it may one day run out. Give it freely and as much as you want. There wasn't
a whole lot more that could be done. It had become a wait-and-see situation with the final results no longer in
her control. That didn't stop her from trying to control the situation. She demanded that things be done as she
desperately tried to control what couldn't be. 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. 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." Twenty-five hours had passed since the incident. It seemed to be a lot longer than that. That twentyfive hours seemed more like a week in her mind. The fact that she still was having trouble comprehending
exactly what took place wasn't helping the matter. She thought if she could just get a little rest the entire incident
might make a little more sense. There was a time when he would have embraced the change that was coming. In
his youth, he sought adventure and the unknown, but that had been years ago. He wished he could go back and
learn to find the excitement that came with change but it was useless. That curiosity had long left him to where
he had come to loathe anything that put him out of his comfort zone. The rain was coming. Everyone thought
this would be a good thing. It hadn't rained in months and the earth was dry as a bone. It wasn't a surprise that
everyone thought a good rain was what was needed, but they never expected how much rain would actually
arrive. "Are you getting my texts???" she texted to him. He glanced at it and chuckled under his breath. Of
course he was getting them, but if he wasn't getting them, how would he ever be able to answer? He put the
phone down and continued on his project. He was ignoring her texts and he planned to continue to do so. He was
aware there were numerous wonders of this world including the unexplained creations of humankind that
showed the wonder of our ingenuity. There are huge heads on Easter Island. There are the Egyptian pyramids.
There’s Stonehenge. But he now stood in front of a newly discovered monument that simply didn't make any
sense and he wondered how he was ever going to be able to explain it. 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 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. 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. 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? 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 blinking light caught her attention. She thought about it a bit and couldn't
remember ever noticing it before. That was strange since it was obvious the flashing light had been there for
years. Now she wondered how she missed it for that amount of time and what other things in her small town she
had failed to notice. 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. 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. She needed glasses. It wasn't that she couldn't see without them,
but what she could see with them. When she wore glasses, her eyes focused so deeply that she could see not only
the physical but also beyond. It was like a superpower. But she needed glasses. 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. 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. 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. 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. 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. 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.