Candace Clicks with Twins
I have wished, at times, that I had been born twins. That way, the part of me that appreciates the conveniences of city living could reside in comfort, while the part of me that strongly prefers rural life could enjoy communing with nature. However, as twins, I would be two individuals, not one. Living apart from my hypothetical twin would separate me from my best friend. Neither of us would derive pleasure from the other's experiences in the other place. After pondering this, I concluded that having a twin wouldn't solve my conundrum of wanting to be in two places at the same time.
Candace Clicks with Aaron
For a time, I forgot what it was like to be out in God's creation, to simply be still and commune with nature. Somewhere along the line, I had grown up and become responsible, career-minded. I chose the hectic, stress-filled life of a manufacturing firm's IT manager who worked fifty to sixty hours a week, often tacking on eight to ten hours of evening or weekend classes to prepare for the next technology upgrade. I garnered much of my self-worth from achieving my work & education goals and from my ability to enable my coworkers to do their jobs on a reliable, secure network. I still took my camera with me on sporadic trips to the zoo, where I occasionally snapped a decent picture of a captive animal before hurrying to the next exhibit. But what I referred to as "my life" consisted predominantly of staring at dual screens and listening to the hum of computer servers' and routers' cooling fans.
The Distant Speck
Anderson took a deep breath of briny air and turned to see who had boarded the schooner. His curly-haired crewmate Mina grunted and shucked another huge coil of hemp rope off his shoulder. It thudded on the deck beside the mainmast.
The Merlot Setup
"Am I late?" Jessie checked her watch before stepping out of her metallic teal Mustang when Dustin opened the driver's door.
Arthur and Marisol
The haggard man with the haunted green eyes shuffled to the small kitchen table and hoisted his travel-worn black case onto the pink Formica, placing it squarely in front of one of the two chrome-framed chairs.
A Time for Courage
Beneath the forest of towering masts, busy stevedores' calls echoed along the wharf as the bells of Saint Brigid's rang the six o'clock hour. Pipe smoke swirled around a pair of captains who stood between the entrances of two pubs, where they monitored their ships and glared away any sailors who considered ducking in for a last draught before their voyage. Seagulls bickered over fish guts a kitchen girl threw into the street in front of the Peculiar Puffin. The more weathered captain pulled a pocket watch from his waistcoat and pretended to look at it, gesturing toward a nearby shadow.
Ben halted halfway down the nursing home's white, featureless hallway. He crinkled his nose slightly, resisting the urge to hold his lightweight satchel in front of his face. The pervasive smell of bleach couldn't disguise the aroma from the adult diapers in the nearby service cart. Instead, he opened his satchel's clasp and riffled the pages inside. The door to room 127 stood ajar, but he tapped before pushing it farther open.
I froze with one foot planted ahead of the other along the narrow game trail. Few rays of sunlight broke through the deep green canopy to play across the undergrowth to either side of me. Except for a single woodpecker, the entire forest fell silent and seemed to listen with me. Had I heard a voice or simply imagined it? I waited, sampling the aroma of the pine needles I had just crushed.