Party Personality

by Josiah

I’ve never really had a party personality, I hardly ever

feel the need to be loud and crazy and I’m somewhat awkward in most social

situations.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate parties, I like them in

fact. I love meeting people, but I tend to become somewhat exhausted by the end

of a party, unless I’m super crazy comfortable around the people I’m hanging

out with. Which is pretty rare.

I guess maybe I’m a little shy and reserved around new

people, but I think the mental fatigue is mostly just due to the fact that I’m

quite introverted. I really love spending time with people and getting to know

them, and I think if I was in a situation where I had to live socially for a

while I could handle it, but I’m at my best when I can just sit and think or

write or dream. I tend to forget who I am when I can’t be alone every now and

then.

An Unexpected View

by Marissa Anderson

  "A room with a view," the woman fumed, her face turning red as she tapped her finger on the counter, each staccato note emphasizing her words. "I made these reservations ages ago. It's taken me three years to save for this vacation. My children are with my mother - no mean feat, I assure you - and all I wanted was a room with a view." The hotel clerk, a young man with one of those floppy haircuts that was intended to inform the world how little he cared, sighed loudly.

"I'm sorry ma'am. The hotel is booked full tonight, and we don't have any rooms with views left. There must have been some sort of mixup with your reservation." "A mixup? You can see right here on my confirmation page, I paid extra for a view. What is the point of confirming my reservation if you're going to completely ignore it? Who do I need to speak to to get this fixed?" The woman was irate. "How could they do this to me, she fumed inwardly, "all I wanted was a nice, relaxing week with a view of the beach. Don't they know how hard I've worked for this? This idiot teenager is probably the one who caused the mixup. Why should I have to suffer for someone else's mistakes?" An older woman stepped out of the managers office. She was dressed crisply, her hair in a tight bun. "Great...madam librarian is going to scold me now, and tell me how sorry she is for the mixup. Because that is going to make me feel sssooo much better." "I apologize for the mixup Mrs...Jones." The manager read her name off of the infamous confirmation sheet. "We will of course refund you the extra amount you paid, and we will also give you one night free of charge." The manager's voice was calm and matter-of- fact. "It's Ms. Jones. I suppose I don't have any choice, do I? It's not like I can change my vacation dates, my plane tickets, or any of my other plans at this point." "Excuse me Lucy," A young woman with a quiet voice was standing behind Ms. Jones, gesturing towards the manager, "I'd be happy to exchange rooms with Ms. Jones. I'm not particular about the view." Ms. Jones stared at the woman in shock. "I certainly don't intend to ruin anyone else's vacation just because these people are incompetent!" An older couple was standing with the young woman, and the man turned to her. "Olivia, are you sure? This trip is supposed to be for you." "It's okay Dad. We're not here for the room anyway. It's just where we'll be sleeping." Olivia looked at Ms. Jones and smiled sweetly. "It won't ruin my vacation at all Ms. Jones. It's perfectly all right. We aren't planning on spending much time in the hotel anyway. Have a wonderful vacation!" Ms. Jones stared at the girl. "I really don't know what to say. That's very kind of you." The manager hurriedly typed something into the computer. "Thank you Olivia. I'll make sure we compensate you for the change." Looking like a balloon that had suddenly lost all of its air, Ms. Jones signed for her room and walked away.

Ms. Jones stared in wonder when she walked into her hotel room. The view was perfect; she was on the top floor, looking out at the beach and endless ocean. "That girl must be crazy! I would never give this to someone else!" She looked down at the beach, and saw the girl walking with her parents along the shore. She pulled out her packed

vacation schedule, realizing she only had a few minutes to rest in the room before heading out for the first of several activities. Finally!

Three months later

Ms. Jones pulled into the driveway of a small house. It had taken her a couple of months to track down Olivia's address, but after chatting with the young woman's parents over the hotel's continental breakfast one morning she had discovered that they lived close to her. She decided to bring her some flowers and a thank-you card in person. Her vacation had been wonderful, each day packed to the brim with various outings, leaving her exhausted. She really needed a vacation to recover! Climbing out of the car, she smiled to herself. How great it was that she could thank Olivia in person! She walked up to the door and rang the doorbell.

"Hello?" The woman who answered the door was Olivia's mother. "Is Olivia available?" asked Ms. Jones, "I wanted to thank her for trading me her room." "Oh," the woman's eyes filled with tears, "I'm so sorry you've come all this way. Olivia is gone." Ms. Jones frowned. "Well, can you tell me when she'll be back? I'd really like to thank her in person." The woman stared at her. "I'm afraid you misunderstood. Olivia...my daughter passed away last month. She had a rare form of cancer, and it never responded to treatment. We took her on vacation so that we could spend time together and try to say goodbye." The tears spilled onto the woman's cheeks, as if the grief in her eyes was somehow pouring out into the world. Ms. Jones just stared at the woman, then handed her the flowers with a muttered "I'm sorry for your loss," and scurried back to her car. "The girl was dying!? Why on earth did she give me her room?" Ms. Jones drove home, lost in thought. When she got home, her three children were all sitting on the couch watching television. She breathed a prayer of thanks for each one, her own eyes welling with tears. The oldest boy looked up and quirked a smile her way. "What's wrong mom? Did you get to thank that lady?" Ms. Jones smiled at her son. "I got to thank her mother. I guess I just had bad timing!" The boy laughed and went back to watching television. "Now this," she thought to herself as she looked at her children, "this is a room with view." 

Bigger on the Inside

by Josiah If I had a Mary Poppins bag, first; I would fill it completely full of water and dump it on someone, then I would turn it inside out and rip a hole in the universe.

All Your Vase Are Belong To Us

by Josiah

“ARRRGHHHH!!!!” he shouted with the fury of Kratos. “That blasted kid has done it again! He destroyed my creations! He thinks just because he’s an adventurer he can just stride in here like some sort of master chief and disrespect my property?” with that last sentence, his face grew less angry and he was pulled into a flashback of his glory days.

  He suddenly remembered when he used to travel the world, everywhere from Tamriel to the Destiny Islands. He had gathered some crazy stories from his travels. Like the time when he mistook that bounty hunter for a man, when she ended up being a woman! Or when he kept storming the wrong castles looking for his princess, only to be told every time that she was in another one.

He’d seen kart races and tomb raiders, a hypersonic hedgehog and a solid snake; he’d even seen a giant sword that could bust you clean open. Yes, he’d seen a lot, always taking the road the dawn led him down. But he had many dreams, and he was going to catch them all.

At least, until that fateful day.

  It was not unlike any other day for him. He was trekking down the latter half of a mountain trail when all of a sudden an arrow, as sharp as a Z-Saber, struck him. He crumpled to the ground, the pain in his knee was like that of a falcon punch, and it burned like a raging firaga. Not moments after he fell, a figure swooped out of the trees like a Loftwing, and before he knew it, a man in a white hood stood over him. The man mistook him for a Templar and when he realized his mistake, he quickly dressed his wound, helped him back up and called the nearest Warthog to take him down the mountain to the nearest town.

After many days, his knee healed and he could walk again, but he could never compete in the Qwop games or run away from temple-monkeys ever again.

  He understood that that kid was just out living life, and probably never even thought about how bothersome he could be…

But hey! He needed to listen! He needed to know he couldn’t just break other peoples things! After his knee injury; his pottery was all he had left, and it seemed like every time he would put new pots out, that kid would waltz in and smash them! He would sometimes steal the rupees hidden away in some of them! The rest of Hyrule is calling the kid a Hero of Time, and maybe he isn’t all that bad, he just needs to be more considerate of other people’s things.

Death

by Josiah

Whoa, intense subject. Well, here it goes:

  Why is death so scary and unsettling to us? It’s all around us. Everyone faces it at some point in his or her life. Some people even deal with it every day.

So why can’t we get used to it?

  First, I’d like to ask a question: What exactly is death?

  Just take a moment before reading on and try to explain it without using the words “death,” “dying,” or others synonymous to these two. See if you can describe just what exactly it is.

  I think death is the idea of an ultimate end to something or someone’s existence, and that’s what makes it so scary. Nobody likes to part ways with someone they care about even for just a short time, so losing them forever is almost unbearable. But that begs the question: “Is this life all there is?” Who’s to say that when you leave this world and your body behind that you just stop existing? C. S. Lewis once said “You don’t have a soul; you ARE a soul. You have a body.” It’s quite obvious that a person is much more than their physical body, so why wouldn’t you be able to live on without it? And don’t you think you could pass without pain, so that it would be more like just leaving rather than dying?

  I believe in God and heaven, so death doesn’t scare me all that much since to me it’s not an ultimate end to the people I love, they will never just STOP existing, and so to me death is more of an illusion than anything. Something to make you fear leaving this world so much that you almost forget to live.

  Whatever you believe, death is still something you shouldn’t fear. You don’t necessarily need to readily accept it at all times, that would probably be bad too. Just be aware of it and understand what it is.

Big Dreams and Little Mansions

by Josiah

She sat there playing with the little dollhouse that her father made for her, imagining all the things she would do when she got her own real house.

  In her tiny mansion, though it was actually small and simple, she would make believe that there were hundreds of rooms, two floors that had two spiral staircases near the back of the house and two regular ones joined by a balcony at the entrance. There were long hallways that ran through the house like veins, linking the bedrooms to the bathroom, the living quarters to the kitchen, and the storage closets to the hospital rooms. Oh, that was another thing, her home would have a built in hospital where she would admit any sickly person free of charge. It was well staffed by some of the best doctors and nurses in town and there were enough of them to make sure that no one would go unattended, and when the people were feeling better; but still recovering, they could stay in one of the many guestrooms, anyone without a place to live could stay in her home. She wouldn’t just let them sit there forever without at least trying to live on their own though, of course.

  She really just wanted to help people in need, take in the poor and sick and give them a place safe from their troubles for a while. She could remember just a few years ago when her mother was sick and her dad was out of work and they were about to lose their house, she wasn’t necessarily scared when these things were happening, but she could see how sad and tired her mom and dad were, and that made her sad. But Mr. Johnson came over one day and gave her dad a job and hired a doctor to take care of her mother.

  Oh! That reminded her! Mr. Johnson was coming over today! She loved talking to Mr. Johnson, he would listen attentively to her stories about how she would someday buy a big mansion where anyone and everyone could be at home, and he would tell her how amazing and honorable her dreams were. He was the nicest rich man she’d ever met, maybe the nicest man period. She decided she would go wait for him at the front door; so she got up, and just as she was approaching the door, she spied him through the window walking up the lane.

      “Laura!” a voice called from the other room, it snapped her out of her reverie of the past. She was only nine years old that day when Mr. Johnson first told her that he was working on a project for her, it took him almost six years to have the manor built on the twenty acre land he owned and to find good; honorable doctors and staff to take care of the place for a reasonable price. It was now her fifteenth birthday and Mr. Johnson gave her the grand unveiling earlier that morning, and she was still wonderstruck at the whole thing. She was standing in the large, open living quarters just past the foyer taking it all in: The giant stone fireplace with several sofas huddled around it; the balconies that let you look down on the room from the upper floor, the wood floors covered by a few decorative rugs, and the large skylights that were on the right side of the ceiling where the sun shone the most. It was all so breathtaking. And it was all hers; she already had her own estate, her own REAL estate. Well, she couldn’t own it legally until she was eighteen, but Mr. Johnson promised her he would keep it for her under his name until she could own it for herself.

“Laura! We have own first guest!”

Oh! She forgot that Mr. Johnson had called her.

“I’m coming!” she said in response. She jogged merrily to the archway between the rooms and paused for a minute to reflect upon the room one more time.

  It was crazy; her wildest dream came true, and it was just the way she imagined it.

Fifty Word (or less) Inspirational Speech

End of the World by Josiah If it really is the end of the world as we know it, that just means it’s our chance to finally make it better than we’ve ever known.

Black Jacket

by Linda

“Oh no, it’s not unusual for men to have a hard time finding a suit that fits. Everyone always talks about the media pressuring us women to look a certain way, but just because you guys can wear a hairstyle for a good year longer than we can before it goes out of style, well, that doesn’t mean we can cookie cut you. So, is this the last one you had picked out to try on? Yes, it’s my favorite too. It’s handmade so the price is a little more, but it really makes all the difference. Most of our customers have shopped the big stores first, but you just can’t find suits like this one... We're the first place you came? Wow. Ok, turn - the shoulders on this one may need to be taken in a little, but there won't be any trouble having that ready by Thursday. The last thing you need is another detail to keep track of. Raise your arms a little. Just let me check that measurement again. Alright, yes this is the closest we have for you. We’ll have to hem the pants and take in the shoulders, as I mentioned. Since this is one of our higher end suits, and considering the circumstances, the tailoring will be on us... Don't apologize. Here, let me grab a tissue for you. I know this must be hard, spending so much money on something like this, and you probably won’t ever be able to wear it again. If I were you I’d never be able to even look at the thing without crying, but, there’s nothing wrong with putting on a nice coat to hold your insides together. Besides, I’m sure she would have wanted you to look wonderful.”

It's Not Unusual

by Josiah

“I don’t know… I just can’t believe he’s that good. Not even the saints are as good as he claims to be.”

“No really! When you were away; getting tools for the harvest, he came to the temple to speak. His word were so full of wisdom that all of us just sat there awestruck, not able to speak a word, and then the Pharisees brought Mary to him.”

“The prostitute?”

“Yeah. They were insisting that she be stoned, but he wouldn’t speak a word to them, he just sat on the ground writing in the dirt with his finger. Then after they persisted on him having her stoned, he stood up and said, ‘Go ahead and stone her. But only you who have not sinned may cast the first stone.’”

“So he deemed only himself worthy to stone her?”

“That’s just it! When the others left because they realized they weren’t worthy, he turned to Mary and asked, ‘Where are your accusers? Did none of them condemn you?’ and when she told him no, that they all left, he replied, ‘Neither do I condemn you.’ and told her she could leave and be free from her sin.”

“What? Someone who claims to be a saint just forgave an adulteress? That goes against everything Moses taught us.”

“I know! It seems to be the opposite of what we consider normal. But doing that sort of thing isn’t unusual for him.”

“To think, a lord who forgives…”

“Yeah. I’m starting to think he really is the Son of God.”

Acting Like a Kid

by Linda

  "[Children] always say, “Do it again”; and the grown-up person does it again until he is nearly dead. For grown-up people are not strong enough to exult in monotony. But perhaps God is strong enough to exult in monotony. It is possible that God says every morning, “Do it again” to the sun; and every evening, “Do it again” to the moon. It may not be automatic necessity that makes all daisies alike; it may be that God makes every daisy separately, but has never got tired of making them. It may be that he has the eternal appetite of infancy; for we have sinned and grown old, and our Father is younger than we."

-G.K. Chesterton

Recently I’ve hit a rough patch in my parenting experience. My kids tag team me with their needy-ness, and I found a lot of excitement in being stressed out about things, so that’s been happening. If I play with them I don’t get sh*t done. If I don’t play with them and obsessively attack my to-do list as if it were a French monarchy, each cross-off adding a sense of purpose and stability to my life, the kids are a train wreck. My first reaction was an immediate turn to Netflix, but that was only a temporary solution (because, let’s face it, I’m a better Mom than that... and its not working anymore). At this point I’m actually getting stressed (not the fun, exciting kind) and sporadically hiding in bed hoping to wish my kids away, with all their mess and crying and defiance. They just make me so damn insecure sometimes. I didn’t know something so much smaller than me could make me feel SO out of control. Aaaaaannnd that’s when I got back on track. Out of control. The lists made me feel in control. In a weird backwards way, the stress made me feel in control. But not those little kids. Those little kids want one thing from me - They want to take me away from my tasks and productivity and force me to ignore the passing minutes and focus on the present moment. I once asked a friend of mine who is the mother of three VERY spunky kids how she could deal with all the interaction that they need and still do anything for herself and here’s what she said: “Just pretend you are two, and then do everything you would have loved to do. It really becomes a lot of fun for me when I think that way, and they become my tiny little friends instead of the tiny people who won't let me pee alone.” Along with being scavengers of my solitary time, my kids keep my busyness in check. They make me play outside and pretend I’m a T-rex and dance and read silly books and waste so much time in such a worthwhile and exhausting way. And tomorrow I’ll do it again.

Acting Like a Kid

by Josiah

Most people seem to think that as you get older; you automatically stop acting like a kid and that wisdom comes with age, but I think that those are personal choices that people make. I think you have to choose to accept wisdom before you can become wise, and that people stop being kids when they decide “Hey, I don’t think I should be considered a kid anymore.”

  I also think there’s a HUGE difference between being like a kid and being immature. Not all kids are immature, and some old people still act like children.

I think immaturity comes from a certain stubbornness and belief that the world revolves around you, which most people grow out of it when they see all the beauty that the world beholds; and realize that they never could have thought of any of it themselves. And I think childlikeness, or “being a kid”; is just the innocent purity that everyone has the first few years they spend on Earth; and that, I hope to never completely lose.

Caterpillar - A Bedtime Story

*With Animation

  Clive woke up on a green leafy bed. He was a brand new caterpillar - just a little baby. But even though he was a baby, when he looked around he couldn’t see anyone. No mom or dad, or anyone, and he was just starting to feel sad when he heard a little voice in his head. It said “that is a tasty leaf you’re standing on. Why don’t you give it a try?” so he did. First he licked it, then he took a teeny bite, then he took big bite, and another bite, and another until the whole leaf was gone! Clive got a little bit bigger from eating that whole leaf, but his stomach wasn’t full yet! Now what would he do? But just then the little voice talked again “See that leaf just above your head? That one’s tasty too.” So Clive climbed up the stalk and ate that leaf and grew bigger, then he ate another and grew, and another and grew until he had eaten the ENTIRE bush! Clive was MUCH bigger now and his stomach still wasn’t full! Even after eating a whole bush! What would he do now? The voice said “See that bush across the yard? It’s tasty too.” So Clive walked his chubby body with his dozens of legs ALL the way to the other bush and ate every leaf on it too! This time he didn’t worry because he knew the voice would tell him what to do next. You see, baby caterpillars don’t ever get to see their mom or dad. They don’t have anyone to tell them what to do or how to live, but it’s okay! Because God knows they don’t have any help so HE helps them. He tells them what’s good to eat and how to walk and where to go so they don’t die. So God kept telling Clive what bushes to eat until FINALLY Clive’s stomach got full. By now he was a GIANT caterpillar from eating all those leafs! After all that work of eating and walking to new eating places he felt pretty drowsy. On top of it, his stomach was full for the first time in his whole life! (and you know how relaxing it is to have a full stomach.) Clive had only ever eaten. He didn’t know what to do when he was sleepy, but God whispered “see that branch over there? Way up that tree? That will be a really comfy bed.” Clive always followed God’s voice since it had taken such good care of him, so he climbed up in the tree and laid down on the branch. After a while he got cold, but it was okay because God wrapped him up tight in a super warm blanket and Clive slept and slept and slept. Finally, he woke up. But the blanket was wrapped SO tight he couldn’t get out! He wiggled and wiggled, until finally he got out into the sunshine and... What?! He wasn’t a caterpillar anymore! While he was sleeping God turned him into a butterfly with beautiful wings so he wouldn’t have to crawl on the ground anymore! And he had a new mouth that could eat sweet flowers instead of bitter leaves! And that is how Clive the Caterpillar turned into Clive the Butterfly, even though he didn’t have a mom or dad. The End.

The Lady Caterpillar

by Josiah

“Welcome aboard The Lady Caterpillar lad!” Said the grungy man with the pipe between his teeth. “This ‘yer first time settin’ sail?”

“Oh yes!” Alex responded, still wide-eyed from the fact that was finally going to sail the high seas.

“Then I trust The Lady will treat ‘yer fancy. I don’t suppose ye know much about ships having never been on one, eh?”

“No sir. Only what I’ve heard from my grandpa’s stories.”

“Well then yer long past due for a tour!” The man said as he reached out his hand. “Name’s Grobberly Green. But ‘round here they call me Grobb.”

“I’m Alex.”

“Well Alex, come with me and I’ll show ye all the ins-and-outs of being a sailor.”

He gripped Grobb’s jagged hand and with that, they were off.

  The next few days were filled with Grobb showing Alex where they tied the sails down; HOW they tied the sails down, what the different parts of the boat were, and how to tell the difference between port and starboard. He also showed him the storage room; the barracks were all the crewmen slept, and the ships kitchen, which the chef quickly kicked them out of. Alex was so enthralled by the whole experience that he never really noticed how much time was going by, in fact, time itself seemed to completely disappear as soon as Alex boarded the ship. The crew told him later that his smile that whole first week was so wide that they were sure it would knock his ears clean off his head, but he had taken no notice of it since he was lost in the amazement of his dream finally coming true.

  After what was about the tenth day aboard The Lady Caterpillar, Alex noticed that there was some sails that Grobb failed to tell him about.

“What are those up there?” Alex asked. “They’ve been all wrapped up and no one has used them since I’ve been here.”

“Oh, I don’t know if I should tell ye about those yet lad.” Grobb replied. “The captain added those to the ship himself. He doesn’t like just anyone knowin’ ‘bout them, and due to ye bein’ so new around here, I don’t think he’d take too kindly to me tellin’ you bout them. At least not without his consent.”

“We’ll just have to ask him then. Where is he anyway? I don’t think I’ve seen him yet.”

“Oh, he stays in his captains quarters most the time, planning the ships route and what not, and he doesn’t let anyone in his quarters.”

“Well we could just knock on his door.”

Then a voice from behind Alex spoke, “Yer a persistent young lad, aren’t ye?” A figure appeared next to them. It was a tall man who looked like he was in his early thirties, he was dressed in fine blue and brown clothes with gold buttons and a large red hat that had a feather sticking out of one side of it and some sort of insignia stitched on the other side. He had black hair and deep brown eyes, Alex saw that his face was jagged with the scars of past battles, but he wasn’t dirty like any of the other crewman.

  “Captain, sir!” Grobb said as he quickly stood up and saluted.

“Grobb; I told ye, ye mustn’t salute me every time I get on deck. We’ve been friends longer than I’ve been captain of this ship.” His voice was kind, yet strong, and Alex noticed that though he pronounced things much like the rest of the men on the ship did, his speech had a sense of refinement.

Grobb let his hand down and said, “But alas; yer me captain, and it just wouldn’t be proper if I didn’t salute.”

“Well perhaps.” The Captain said as he turned to Alex.

“Oh!” Alex said putting his hand to his head. “Captain, sir!”

“Haha! So Grobbery here’s been teachin’ you his ways, eh?”

“Yes sir!” Alex replied as he put his hand down.

“Well, he’s a good man, and an even better sailor! Ye could learn a lot from him.”

“Arr, yer too kind Captain.” Grobb said with a bit of a blush.

“So, what’s yer name lad?” asked the Captain.

“Alex.” He replied.

“Yer WHOLE name.”

“Oh. It’s Alexander Gillson.” He said somewhat sheepishly.

“Gillson, eh? That’s a good, strong name. I’ve no doubt you’ll become a fine sailor someday.” Alex smiled and looked at the ground.

“Now, I believe one of ye had a question fer me?” The Captain asked after a moment.

“Aye Captain.” Grobb replied. “The lad here wants to know what the extra sails are for.”

“Is that so?” He said turning his gaze upon Alex.

“Uh, yes sir. If that’s alright.” Alex replied, now a little worried that he might be being a little too nosey.

“I already told him sir that ye might not want him to know, due to him having only been here not two weeks.” Grobb added.

The Captain bent down next to Alex and said, “That’s true lad, I really don’t know ye that well.” Alex’s face dropped a little.

“I understand sir.” The captain then gave a quick glance at Grobb; and then back to Alex, and said, “Well Alex me boy, can you vow to me that ye will never talk about the sails to anyone except the crew of this ship?” Alex’s face brightened.

“Oh! Of course sir! I won’t tell anyone about them!”

“Then I see no reason why I can’t show ye them.” The Captain stood up and yelled, “Sammy!”

The man at the helm replied, “Aye, Captain?”

“Steer us toward the nearest Lift Falls.”

“Aye Captain!”

Then the Captain said, “Alright lad, it’ll take at least a good ten hours before we reach the Lift Falls, but when we get there ye will get to see those sails in action.”

“Thank you sir!” Alex said ecstatically.

“It’s my pleasure, boy.” The Captain replied as he turned back toward his quarters.

“Oh, and Captain?” Alex asked.

“Aye?” he said without turning around.

“What is a ‘Lift Fall’?”

The Captain smiled. “I guess ye will just have to wait and see that too.” And with that he locked himself back in the captain’s quarters.

  Alex awoke to a gruff voice, “Aye! Alex! Wake yer lazy bum up, it’s time!”

Alex got up and rubbed his eyes.

“Grobb?”

“Aye it’s me lad. Ye need to get up before you miss it!”

Alex’s eyes suddenly burst wide open. “The sails?”

Grobb chuckled, “Aye boy! The Captain’s already on deck, so lets get up there!”

  As they climbed the ladder onto the deck, Alex noticed a faint rumbling sound, and saw that the sun was just starting to rise. They climbed up to the helm where the Captain was shouting orders at the crewmen while he steered the ship. He wasn’t wearing his hat.

“Here, boy.” Grobb said, handing him a harness. “Put this on.”

“Okay, what is it?”

Grobb replied “It’s to keep ye on the ship.” He attached a rope to the harness and Alex gave him a confused look.

“Ahh, Alex me boy!” The Captain said, finally noticing they were there. “We’re almost to the Lift Falls!”

“So, what ARE the Lift Falls then?” Alex asked having to raise his voice to speak over all the noise.

“Haven’t you noticed the rumbling?”

Alex listened again and found that the rumbling had gotten quite a bit louder, then he realized what the sound was.

The Captain pointed forward and yelled: “Look out there!”

What Alex saw made his stomach drop, it was a massive waterfall fast approaching and the ship was pointed straight at it.

“SHOULDN’T WE TURN AROUND?!” Alex yelled in panic, but the Captain could no longer hear him over the roaring waterfall.

Then the Captain yelled:

“ALL RIGHT MEN! CLOSE THE MAIN SAILS! TIE THEM DOWN!” The Captain kept shouting orders as they got closer to the waterfall, Alex was becoming more and more afraid.

“DON’T WORRY LAD.” Grobb said trying to comfort Alex. “THE CAPTAIN’S GOT THIS UNDER CONTROL!”

“WHAT ARE WE DOING GROBB?” Alex pleaded.

“JUST TRUST US LAD! YE’LL BE ALRIGHT!”

Alex was still afraid but he took some comfort in Grobb’s words. They were now within 30 feet of the waterfall.

The Captain yelled, “HOLD STEADY MEN! WAIT FOR MY MARK!”

“YE MIGHT WAN’T TO HOLD ON TO SOMETHING.” Grobb instructed Alex.

Then all the voices were silenced, all that was left was the intense roaring of the waterfall.

Alex’s heart jumped into his throat as the bow sunk over the edge.

“NOW!” The Captain screamed. “RELEASE THE TEGMINE SAILS!” Several crewmen yanked on ropes, releasing the sails.

  Alex was dumbfounded. The sails shot out horizontally, and they were stiff and stout, like a paper fan. They bowed slightly upward as the wind caught their undersides and the ship took off. The roaring of the waterfall quickly disappeared as the whole ship began to glide away, and all Alex could hear for a moment was the rushing of the wind. The crew then let out a cheerful roar and the captain yelled in reply: “Good job men!”

After a while of taking it all in, Alex said, “They’re wings.”

“Aye lad!” Grobb replied with a big grin on his face.

“But how-how can they lift the ship?” Alex asked.

“The whole ship is made from the rare Downyoak lumber. It’s as durable as some of the toughest wood, yet it’s lighter than any other.”

“I can’t believe it.” Alex said as they both gazed out over the edge at the sunrise. The captain looked at them from the helm and smiled.

They stood there for what seemed like an eternity and then Alex spoke.

“This is so amazing.”

“Aye.” Grobb said in return. “There be few sights I’ve seen that are as beautiful as when The Lady Caterpillar spreads her wings.”

My Favorite Character Flaw

by Josiah

Oh boy… I honestly have no idea what my favorite character flaw would be because I think it’s the flaws that make the characters more human, like a kid afraid of heights, a girl who can’t let go of the past, or the villain who wants to be good for once; but keeps reverting to his heinous ways. People, and the world in general; are often more beautiful to me when they have at least some small flaws.

   I do know that one of my favorite instances; in stories or otherwise, is when someone finds a way to turn their flaws into something great or useful... But I have no idea what my favorite flaw would be.

Bypass

by Linda

He sat in the cramped lobby alone. A window seat with his bag on the seat beside him, reserving the space. Renee asked if there was anything she could get for him. He stared at her for a moment. She expected him to say something but he didn’t. “You know, a straight up espresso always gives me a lift on a day like today...” she had watched him trace the trails the rain left on the window. “No. I’ll just have the honey lemon ginger tea... Um, and a sandwich.” “Which kin...” “The one with hard boiled egg.”

  It was forty minutes past the lunch hour that the brown haired woman from the bar last weekend had suggested he come by at. Maybe she prefered alcohol centric dates. Maybe she just didn’t prefer him. It would have been awful even if she came. It was rainy instead of sunny and it was hard to talk in the little shop. She would have liked a walk in Prospect park. He was sure. It was even named ‘prospect’, but he stopped himself there. That train of thought was getting too corny.

  She watched him rearrange his bag on the floor between his legs. She watched a lot of people. Commute Dave from Newark; Homeless Cathy from the park a few blocks east; Same name Rene, who lived in a town house on 14th. She loved those brick houses down by the park. She grew up on the west coast and there was something so solid about the old buildings here. Maybe, if she could ever get her life started, she’d live in one.

  #

  Renee, having taken the time to curl her long hair instead of her usual “keep it out of the cookies” updo and enough makeup to make her feel uneasy, was sitting on a stool at the bar. She was wedged between a drunk 30-something birthday girl and a handsome but too-broad-shouldered-for-this-situation businessman. She had heard this place was popular, but hadn’t considered the implications. She was the only one sitting alone tonight. The bartender stood in front of her with a question hanging on his face. She hadn’t heard him. He repeated “What’ll you have?” “Oh. I guess I was, um, hoping something would happen... I mean... I mean maybe I would have to choose a drink... if someone offered to buy one...” She was trailing off. He was smiling and picked up a small tumbler “Straight up then.”

What'll You Have?

by Josiah

She sat there at the dinner table, feeling as empty as the seat across from her. This was the third time he promised he’d be home for dinner only to leave her sitting there alone while he continued work on his project. She knew he was excited that; after all the long hours at work, he could finally afford that old church at the corner of the road, but she just couldn’t stand how much he was gone. All the renovations that had to be done to that old beat up building were taking more of his time than when he was working overtime every night. That was another thing that worried her, how he’d quit his job to devote as much time as he could to fixing that structure up. How did he think he was going to get money to keep working on it?

  Just then he walked through the front door and cheerily said, “I’m home!” Making his way into the kitchen he continued: “Sorry I’m so late. I’m sure the food is cold as stone now.”

He went over to the sink to wash his dust-covered hands, and after they were properly scrubbed and dried, he sat down at the table. He couldn’t help but notice that something was bothering her.

“What’s the matter Darling?”

“It’s nothing really.”

“Oh come now, I can see that blank look in your eyes. Something is obviously really bothering you. So what is it?”

She looked down and paused for a moment.

“It’s that church you bought.”

“What do you mean? You don’t like it?”

“No no, it’s not that. It’s just; you’re always out working on it… And it sometimes gets lonely in this house by myself.”

“Well, can’t you read some books while I’m away?” He knew she had a passion for books.

“Yes, but I’ve already read all my books, some of them more than once.”

“We’ll just have to get you some new books.”

“But you’ve had to spend all of our extra money on renovations. Plus, I really just wish we could spend more time together.” With those last words a tear slipped out of her eye and ran down her cheek. She tried to wipe it away before he could see it, but there wasn’t a thing she could do that would go unnoticed by him.

He saw the tear, and at the sight of it his face grew a bit somber. Then, he had an idea.

“Come with me.” He said as he got out of his chair and put his shoes and coat on.

“Where?” She said somewhat hesitantly.

“Just come.” He said as he pulled her chair back so that he could put her shoes on her.

“What about the food?”

“Well I already went and let it get cold, so it can wait a while longer for us.”

She got up slowly and he helped her get her coat on; and with that, they headed out the front door.

  They pulled up to the front of the church.

“What are we doing here?” She asked somewhat suspiciously.

“I have something to show you.” He replied as they walked up to the double doors.

“But first you need to close your eyes.”

She looked at him in a sort of irritated manner.

“Come on.” He said kindly.

With a sigh she closed her eyes.

He opened the doors and led her through. “Careful in this first room, I haven’t quite finished the floors in here; so it’s a little uneven.” She stumbled slightly, but his grip on her hands kept her steady.

“How much longer?” She asked.

He replied lovingly, “Be patient, it’s in this next room.”

  When they walked through the doorway, she noticed that their footsteps started to echo, so she knew it had to be a big room.

“Okay, you can open your eyes now.”

When she opened her eyes she saw before her a large auditorium filled with bookshelves, the light from the streetlamp that was just outside the church shone through the stained-glass windows on her left, providing just enough light that she could see that the bookshelves were empty.

“Do you like it?”

Almost at a loss for words because of her amazement, all she could say was “It’s amazing.”

He gave a little chuckle and seeing how wonderstruck she was, his heart filled with joy.

  As she scanned the room with wide eyes she noticed that the back wall was covered in shelving too, all the way to the ceiling. These were the only shelves with books.

“It’s not very much, they’re mostly just biographies I found at some rummage sales and extra encyclopedias from the bookstores in the next town.”

“What exactly is this for?” She asked.

“Well, I know you’ve always loved books, and when I saw the church for sale I realized it would be the perfect building for a bookstore.”

Still a little confused, she asked: “This is what you were saving money for?”

“And it’s why I quit my job. Not only did I need time to fix it up, but I figured that we could run this place and that would be all the income we would need. I could manage the business end of it while you take inventory, and during our free time we could read any books that nobody’s checked out.”

Her eyes filled with tears of joy, “I can’t believe it, this is so great.”

She wrapped her arms tightly around him, tears now flowing freely, and he held her gently as they stood there for a long, wonderful moment.

  At last they loosed their grip of eachother and he took her face in his hands, wiping away her tears.

“I didn’t want to tell you about this until I had it finished, but I saw how sad you were and I thought this might cheer you up.”

A giant smile appeared on her face as well as more tears. “It definitely did.”

“There’s not a lot left, just the floor in that first room and some of the windows need resealing.” Turning to the wall of books he continued, “We’ll need more books than this too.”

He turned back to her. “I found an old library five hours away that went out of business and they said they would give their books to us, but I have to haul them here myself and it would take about sixteen loads, that would mean I’d be gone all day for sixteen days. Is that okay?”

“Of course that’s okay!” She said with a smile. “I mean, I’ve got lots to read now, right?”

“Yep!” He gave a small laugh.

“So what’ll you have? I mean, what’re you going to read first?”

“Hmmm…” She said as she looked over the book titles, “I don’t know yet, but I’ll have plenty of time to figure that out.”

Being a Writer

by Aaron

The “er” on the end of the word “writer” means “one who”. So by simple definition, a writer is someone who writes. Collectively our society describes a writer as “someone who writes” followed by “for or with monetary return.” The problem I face here is, I don’t like being defined by what I do. Because by following that logic, I am “nothing” when I am doing nothing. Unless in those moments you get more specific and then you could say that I am a Breather, Heartbeater, Thinker and if the environment is even less stimulating, the occasional Drooler.

    I believe on a philosophical level, we are more than what we do. We are genetic material that wants to express itself. This expression manifests in your pointed nose, your blue eyes or your big ass. Referred to as your phenotype (the observable traits of your DNA), we are the result of a desired and designed expression. This goes for the physical, psychological and social aspects of our nature. We are beings who want, need, or simply will express ourselves. And the “doing” part is merely the modality through which we express ourselves. Consequently a writer is someone who chooses to express themselves with language as opposed to painting, building, speaking or drooling.