When I was 12, I went to sea with my father. I remember sitting in the boat watching the land go further and further away and calculating how long it would take to swim back. Of course, you can see where this is leading, the boat sinks, father saves son in an act of heroism, perishes. It ends with the son sitting and looking out at the waves and thinking of him. But I'd be lying, we went out, fished, turned around and came home. Fuck you story.
I was playing basketball with Michael Jordan, Lebron James, Carmelo Anthony, Kobe Bryant and Kevin Durant. We were playing 3 on 3. It was Michael, Carmelo and myself. We were playing to 21. It was tied 19 to 19, win by two. We've got the ball up top, Melo checks it. I run and set a pick for Jordan across the baseline. Jordan slides off of me, while I set the pick. Kobe gets through pretty quickly, but not quick enough. Jordan catches it in the corner and does a quick turn around jumper. 20-19. Make it take it, so...
He sighed as he read: "This image or video is currently unavailable."
"Thank you, Flickr," the man said to himself. He'd been trying to upload the photos he'd taken at the reenactment all afternoon and was constantly frustrated by the site's refusal to work with him. James had been adding pictures to Flickr almost since its inception and had never had problems like today. He didn't know what to do, only that he felt like pulling his hair out.
"Forget it," he said in disgust. I'll try it again tomorrow. Standing up, he turned and walked away from the computer...only...
Morlane hung his head. At times like these, his emotions were torments of conflict. He was grateful, yes; but he was ashamed. He was melancholy, true; but he was jubilant. Every month for the last 4 years he had made the trek; every month he had experienced these emotions again. He couldn't talk to anyone about these feelings. His father, raised on a quiet farm, couldn't know about such things. His fiancee, sophisticated city girl that she was, couldn't be expected to understand. Only his regiment could understand. And he was the only one left. Except for --
"GOD BLESS...
Vanquished.
That's how Cindy felt as she picked up the books she had dropped in front of her locker. The mean girls had had their say, and she was out.
Cindy supposed she should've known better than to strike up a relationship with Gary, the science room geek, as in the back of her mind she knew she'd wind up in social Siberia. Now even Brady, her football player boyfriend - ex-boyfriend, make that, had knocked the books out of her hands in disgust as he stalked off.
She sighed, knowing her days buzzing around as a queen bee were...
"Carry the wreath, Henry, your mother is waiting."
Father's terse words spoken from the side of his mouth, muffled by his coat's collar and the stub of a cigarette in the corner of his mouth. He fancied himself a small-town Bogart. He was the only one.
Two days past christmas and we're out before dawn, getting decorations.
"For next year. Don't worry about it," he says, pulling the flask from the inside pocket. "Carry it another few blocks and maybe I'll give you a sip."
He drinks and staggers and coughs. The butt falls from his mouth and I crush...
"The year is 2070. The girl you see is your granddaughter." The computer hummed and buzzed as it began to clue me in on what - or who, I was watching. I could hardly believe it. It was almost surreal to see. I mean, I was 14 and could scarcely imagine knowing my granddaughter but, there she was. Kia Nicole. I could see my eyes and my smile on her face and quite abit of my father's features were evident in her as well. She was sitting at a the dining room table that my parents had bought and she...
She was lost in a land, not exactly a physical one. She was surrounded by things that made her happy. She was floating endlessly in a world that was completely hers, and she loved it here.
Was she alone? How could she not be. Yet the silence was filled with voiced and faces. You see she could be whoever she wanted, do whatever she wanted and love whoever she wanted. As she lay there asleep but awake in this marvelous world she spotted her, in the distance. Her long brown hair not easily missed, she lay there too just waiting....
He searched through the records, long dusky fingers flipping rapidly through file after file in the Archives. He kept going, past James, past Jenkins, past....there it was!
Private Justice Jernigan, 61st Georgia Infantry, Co. A. His hands fairly trembled as he pulled out the pension record, gazed at it, read it voraciously. There it was. Private Justice Jernigan, listed as "man servant" for William Jernigan. It was also noted that he was a confirmed soldier, having fought at Fredericksburg and Chancellorsville before being crippled by a wound in his right knee. That confirmed the stories handed down by his parents...
The message was received.
"Prayers are needed for a friend. he has cancer."
Horrible! Terrible news!
Certainly not the kind to be wished upon anyone.
Within minutes the responses were coming in.
"Right on it Buddy!"
"My prayer list is never too long!"
"I'll be shouting out to the Big Guy!"
And I sat and wondered!
Is this same guy who said all gays should be dead?
Is this the guy who said all Muslims are terrorists?
Is this the guy who said all poor and homeless people deserve to be poor and homeless?
I sat and wondered, "What is...