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Showing posts from November, 2016

Cutting Lines

Sorry about the missed week. Things are little busy at the moment. This story, Cutting Lines, was inspired by a pin I saw about World War 2. It made me think about all the times we believe someone else will do something, and no one ever does. 
C’est très facile,” Jean-Marie insisted as he poured another glass of wine for everyone. “Make the little monster use his own legs.”
Antoinette, Jean-Marie’s younger sister, leaned against the door of the wine cellar. The war had ceased three days before for her beloved France when the government signed their souls to the devil. Now, news had arrived that Hitler himself was to come to Paris.
“If we do something like this, it would be a problem,” Victor, named after the end of the previous war, ground his cigarette into the stone floor. “But, it might be worth the trouble.”
“Worth the trouble; I’d say it be jolly good,” Francis, the only Englishman in their group spoke in English. He used English when exceptionally excited. “Put the little man i…

Keep Stepping

Sorry for the delay this week. It was another one of those weeks - not bad, just creatively draining. Today, I have a photo to go with the story - from the very place where Gretchen and Sung Hyuk would have climbed too. It's a long hike, but well worth it.
This wasn't her world, and they weren't her people. They chatted easily despite the climb. For them it was a Saturday's lark up the mountainside. Twice a month they did this because it made them feel young and energetic. Good for the body. "Are you all right, honey?" Sung Hyuk asked, stepping a couple rocks back to Gretchen. "Fine," Gretchen huffed. "Just fine. Just need a breather." She reached for her water bottle, but she wasn't thirsty. Sung Hyuk handed her a tangerine. They were everywhere in the stores at the moment, and Sung Hyuk seemed to have an endless supply in his backpack. Ahead of them, his parents continued their steady climb, unfazed by their second son's dilapidated …

How to be Happy

"You need to smile more." Right. Smile more. It might be pasted, but I could smile. Wasn't I smiling enough, though? People always told me I smiled a lot. Like too much. "Oh, and talk slower. They can't understand you." Check. Slower. Lifelong bane. Too many thoughts and not enough words, syllables or letters to express them. Just pretend I had marbles in my mouth. It would slow down. "Oh, and try to be happy. We want the students to remember their time here as a good time, and I'm afraid they'll think of you and not be happy." It took the remainder of the day to formulate the response to that. Thankfully, the remainder of the day was only an hour away because the bus ride home and picking up a few items at the store was all I could do to keep the tears inside. Trudging up the last flight of stairs, I paused, took a deep breath and started forward. Micheline, American, lived on the same floor I did. She worked at another school, but she never s…