They had come up this mountain every wensday evening for the last three years, from the creation of there IOGT-lodge. The first one in this country and now there outdoor meetings was to come to an end. The lodge house was soon to be finished and there common soberity had a place to live
Indeed in a hundred years another generation will look at this photo and now the story some even beeing related to the heroic pioners of the movement.
How the small movement for soberity started in New York state now lived on and inspired so many generations...
As the walked along a long fenced pathway, she told Martin, that she was bringing him to a refugee camp, and that she couldn't tell him what time it is, because no one knows. She handed him a pair of binoculars. "Take these." Martin took the binoculars and she pointed her finger into the snowy distance. Can you make out that small shed out there?" Martin looked around in the distance, but could eventually see the shed she was talking about. "I do." "Listen, Martin, I need you to trust me now. You need to climb that fence, and run...
Fireman? Firewoman? Fire...person?
Esme sighed as she approached her firetruck. The trouble with magic, she reflected, was that while it got you where you need to be quickly, that sometimes meant that you skipped over important parts of the path.
It had been a simple enough spell of purpose; she paid her fifteen hundred dollars, and in return she got given her perfect career. The career that she would enjoy the most, be most suited for...the career that would make her happy.
Purpose was a popular spell-type, and it had definitely resulted in a happier populace, but no one had...
A small woman in her mid-20's sits in a doctor's office staring, seemingly at nothing, right in front of her, as if peering deep into herself. Her eyes, drooping at the small corners, glistening slightly as they search from left to right and then from right to left. A deep sigh lodged in the cavernes of her being finally escapes.
The door opens and in shuffles an older man, gray speckled hair, deep wrinkles on his forehead and around his eyes from squinting at translucent sheets held up to lights, his glasses resting on his nose several inches from his...
Penelope loved the fountain, loved the way the water sprayed, cooling her in the hot sun, making her clothes cling as she called her joy to the heavens.
"What are you doing?" asked the man in the blue uniform.
Some sort of park official, thought the girl. "Nothing. Just enjoying the water."
"This isn't a waterpark, you know," said the man, a note of disapproval hanging from his lips like a dangling cigar, ready to drop and burn.
"So?" she asked. She kicked up a fine spray as her feet pattered against the thin layer that had built up over...
He set the plate before her. He knew she wasn't hungry but he did it anyway. She didn't mind because she knew he went to a lot of trouble to put this dinner together. She always did all the cooking, he always did nothing. This time he put in some effort and she wanted to reward.
After thinking a moment while simultaneously offering idle, akward conversation, she realized, No, she didn't want this. She always did the cooking because she liked doing. he did this cooking because he felt obligated to. As if somehow performing a task traditionally done by...
The zombies beat upon the door to the church. The flowering vines clung to the brink walls like dead man's fingers, while the sun gazed relentlessly upon their torn and damaged limbs. The daylight didn't detour them. Neither did the cross, holy water, or relics. All that mattered was the thick wooden door separating them from their desire.
Cries of despair, pleas for mercy and sanctuary went unnoticed. Only the nearby birds heard and their hearts were cold and unyielding. "Sanctuary!" they screamed. "Give us sanctuary!" But the pastor and his flock refused them mercy.
Left to the sun's brilliant...
The gate closed behind them.
'And stay out!' shouted the old man. He sneered and spat on the ground.
Billy spat back at him through the heavy iron uprights of the gate. A bubble of saliva struck his tie, but he didn't even flinch.
'Stupid old goat,' snapped Billy as Dan stepped backward shaking his head. Old Man Barnes might be a stupid old goat, but even Dan knew that kids like them shouldn't talk to men like him that way. Dan's dad always going on about how Old Man Barnes had fought in all the big wars and was...
Dear Diary,
I'm SO sick of everyone going on about how their lives are such a bowl of cherries! I am SO not going through rainbows and lollipops right now. i am about to face one of the toughest decisions of my young life. My life isn't a bowl of cherries and no one else even tries to care. it's just " ME ME ME" all the time. Like my best friend. All she talks about is herself. how she's going off to camp and ontario and stuff and how she got a new baby cousin and stuff. finally, i...
"Death to the tyrant!" Lorenzo shouted.
Within the crowd, there were many responses. Each one said the same words, "Death to the tyrant", but each man enunciated the words differently. In each utterance you could hear the word being ejected with their personal reasons.
Tremain, in his worldview, saw the king as symbol of the working class oppression that had haunted him his whole life. Why should his money support some overfeed pompous ass who hadn't worked a day in his life? The king does not decide the laws anymore, that is the parliament's job.
Lorenzo, in his wisdom, saw...