Barbara Gode Wiles
Barb was a young widow, having lost her husband and best friend at the age of 58. She is now devoted to her two daughters and her two beautiful granddaughters. Her dog is a constant companion.
Here I go!
“3-2-1 and we have liftoff.” I could feel the shimmy of my rocket as I set off on my space mission. Going to the outermost corner of the Milky Way was a dream I had ever since before I could recollect. I needed to see what was on the other side of the universe.
Reader’s Digest has my first gut punch, heartfelt writing piece published in their Best Life Stories book entitled “Microwave Toast”. It can also be found on Audio Books now. It was written several years after my husband passed away at the age of 58 from Early Parkinson’s Disease and a rare form of dementia diagnosed at the age of 49.
If you are looking to waste two hours staring at a black screen waiting for something to happen, then this is the movie for you. The directors attempt at psychological terror fails from the very first dark screen. See "Barbie" instead and get a few laughs with her and Ken.
Emily was a much-wanted child, born 9 months and 4 days after our wedding day. Starting out as a problem child, she poked her fingers through the sack and sent me into an early labor that would unfortunately be less than successful. She was now to be born through a pitocin fueled delivery on Thursday, January 12, 1984. Well, that didn’t work so onto a C-section on Friday, January 13, 1984. Note the date please.
The Victimazation of Gog
It was early and the giant was having his coffee while overlooking his garden and watching his geese play. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw it. There was a boy coming up the beanstalk that had grown overnight and just appeared in the giant’s garden. “Jack, where did you go? If you climbed this beanstalk, you are in big trouble.” The disembodied voice faded away.
A Wall Street Alternative
The blood rolled down my arm as I nursed my finger. This was not the first time I had hurt myself with my own hand hammer. I walked over to the doctor’s office to have it sewn up. Doc had his back to the door when I came in. He turned around and smiled. “Again Joshua?” He asked. “Ya doc, this is a good one”. It took eight stitches to close the wound and after thanking doc, I walked back to my blacksmith shop. This order for the Daltons hoe must be done this afternoon. I also have three horses to be shod tomorrow. “Well, better busy than no work at all”, I thought out loud. Some of the farmers had lost their crops to bad weather on the outside of Black River Falls. Such is life in Wisconsin in 1848.
A Remarkably Bad Plan
Sheldon closed his office door and walked off into the night. The fire began shortly after he left. Screaming fire engines and police cars arrived shortly thereafter as he sat and thought about the million dollar insurance policy he had purchased eight months ago.
Life at 4:00 AM
The two young males, wearing black hoodies and dark jeans, came into the mini-mart about 4:00 am. They walked around the store seeming to shop and then came to the cash register where there stood a young clerk, maybe 25 years old. He couldn’t have weighed more than 150 pounds soaking wet.
A Short Heist
Mark left the bank for the final time that night with his ratty briefcase in hand. He held it close to him as he rode the bus toward his pre-planned destination. He had been at that bank for 18 years, without a raise in five years, and they owed him something. Before he left work that night, he had walked into the safe, filled his case with as much cash as possible and walked out.