friendship
C.S Lewis got it right: friendship is born when one person says to another: "What! You too? I thought I was the only one!"
An Ode to the Boy in a Wheelchair
**Based on a true story and #5 from a collection of short stories... I don’t remember ever meeting Junior. He was always just kind of there, like the trees growing on your block that you never really paid any attention to. As far as my little girl brain can think back, Junior was always in a wheelchair rolling around with his flipper-like legs. They kind of just laid there, were short, totally deformed, and looked like claws. One day, I noticed Junior’s blue eyes following us while we kids played, and it hit me hard in the chest when I realized Junior would never be able to run, jump, or even walk.
By A.X.Partida6 years ago in Humans
The Alchemist's Practice Chapter 8
Edric went back to the York bank the following day, and, just as Kennard had said he would, there was a draft lease agreement ready and waiting for his review. The amount of money and land leased was to be negotiable. Edric left that business to Kennard's expertise, given his knowledge of banking, local trade, and income.
By Jeremy McLean6 years ago in Humans
Thanks for noticing
“You need to be okay. You will be okay.” My friends kept telling me this. Assuming if they repeated this that it would be destined to come true. Sadly, the more they affirmed I would be, fine, the deeper I sunk into my depression. The loneliness consuming me. No one wanting to understand or listen to my sorrow.
By Pie Robinson6 years ago in Humans
A Simple Ode
A Simple Ode He was lightning in a bottle, a supernova that burned out too quickly, he was the sun and we all orbited around him and I’m proud to say Vincent Edwin Webb was my friend. He was entirely different and yet exactly the same as most of us, he was morally bankrupt and yet at the same instance, he had unapproachable ethics, he was an American through and through with a bloody vicious English accent.
By Gregory Dolan Dies6 years ago in Humans
The Second-Hand Shop Where Books Were Exchanged For Stories
As usual, the bookshop smelt of incense and cigarettes. If the owner had hoped the aroma of the former would mask the odor of the latter, he was mistaken. But, knowing Solomon as I did, I knew that the sandalwood was no attempt to hide his nicotine habit. He didn't need to. This was his shop; if the customers didn't like the pungent tang of his tobacco they could go elsewhere. Solomon would rather lose potential custom than his Camels.
By Viola Black6 years ago in Humans
Toby's Adventures
Part 2: To the Caves Wolfe's car is incomparable to Toby's beat up 1991 Chevy Astro. The car ride is smooth and even on the winding roads, barely making a sound. His envy simmers with every acceleration, as the engine's effortless purr burns in Toby's mind. His own van pops, like a gunshot, if he tries to go twenty too fast. Wolfe's car reaches 60 in an instant, without a single complaint.
By Leanna Hill Vanderford6 years ago in Humans
A Spill In Time All Set To Unwind
I remember as a child, mom would have some friends over on Saturday nights. Their husbands were police officers and they worked together pulling the 4pm-12am shifts over the weekend. The moms would all get together at our house, play cards, and mostly talk about their kids and sometimes conversations we kids were told to leave the room for. Each of them brought with them a desert they probably worked all day preparing. Of course, as a child this was something I very much looked forward to. The apple strudels, cheese cakes, pies, and double chocolate layer cakes were some of the regular dishes that we kids made sure to dip into for extra servings as the moms were busy chatting in the living room. As we were helping ourselves to all the sweets we could fit into our mouths and swallow with the least amount of chewing, the moms were opening and pouring lots of wine as they celebrated together their “girl’s night”.
By Debra Debek6 years ago in Humans
