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The Mighty Ocean: It had been a long day, fighting riptide, the jellyfishes, the ultimately horrible sand chaffing I got. But I had done it. I had defeated the mightest of foes, those that even sailors often met their final demise, in Davey Jones Locker. I had fought the might Ocean and won. Poseidon himself had not strength to fight the massive titan known as Dave. Yup thats me, Dave the Ocean Slayer. I mean really it never stood a chance. You see all those footprints behind me? Well those are from people who could not defeat the ocean. I am Dave hear me roar over the sound of the crashing waves. I am also immune to the harmful rays of the sun, I didn't even blister. The ocean was a punk and I owned it. Dave the ocean slayer.

As the students walked to school the felt a wave of hot air push at them from the direction of the electrical plant. As they turned their head they saw a mushroom cloud billowing out from the distance behind the industrial skyline and realized something awful was wrong. This was the beginning of the end. They immediately dropped their bags and ran for cover behind a nearby shed. But physical shelter would do them no good as the waves of radiation passed through them, instantly speeding up the clock that would extinguish their lives. Hiroshima was not the place to be on this day. Over the next few weeks the children became sick. They developed sores across their body, both internally and externally. And after a few months they all died. The fragility of life and the lack of actual control that we have over our lives is daunting.

A girl with long black hair and piercing green eyes stood over the trembling boy on the blacktop, staring down at him. The boy rolled over in a daze, seeing only a pair of scuffed brown boots planted in front of him.

"Where is it? I need it from you!" the owner of the boots said icily. "What--do you want from me?" The boy stammered. The girl placed her heel squarely on the boy's ribcage. He smelled grass, and tasted bile in his throat. "I don't know what you are talking about!" he squeaked. "I need the key, give it to me!" She snarled. She reached down and begin rummaging through his pockets until her hand closed upon a cold metal object in the pocket of his jeans. The boy froze, surely she would hurt him now. He had found the key while out for an evening walk. It looked innocuous enough, laying wedged in a crack in the sidewalk. He thought it looked neat, so he picked it up an pocketed it.

"You lied to me! I should make you pay!" she announced, holding up an antique looking bronze key. "Just--take it, I didn't know!" The boy cried. "Never speak of this to anyone!" The girl said with a low snarl.

The boy scrambled to his feet. He watched as the girl glided along into the fading light. Suddenly, she vanished into thin air as quicky as she had appeared.

White Lady

She was live in U.S.A. She is a beautiful girl and she have a super men power. she have fights with some groups and finally one big group was killed him.

It was his dream to have an open area office on a lovely hill station. Michael never thought dream would come true so early. He rented an old house on hill top and started his office on the lawn area with an amazing view of nature. One week went in enthusiasm and excitement. But as the time passed, he could not escape from the problems. Telephone was not working smoothly. Electricity failure was quite often and nobody dared to visit the place due to lack of proper conveyance. Sitting alone on grass with phone handset in hand, Michael looked at dead phone, lantern and empty unused glasses that were bought for visitors; and sighed "Was it the right decision to move office here?"

He was racing at top speed and all set to win the competition. This was going to be his fifth title in a row. He was welcomed everywhere and became a hero, an inspiration for Grand Prix aspirants. Life was full of fun, money, fame and adventure.

Everything was going fine when Charlie asked "Do you want a hair cut like that, Johnson?"

There is no magic in real life. We can imagine anything but mere replacing the faces does not make us the winner.

Lyra had wanted to date her new classmate, and was now seriously regretting her choice. She'd known that, like many women, Mohit was horse crazy. Lyra let the words blur over her mind, pass through, waiting with delicate frustration for the end of lunch. Mohit continued:

"I've worked with animals most of my life, and have been trained by people who work with animals." Mohit looked at Lyra as if Lyra should be impressed. Lyra was, long minutes ago. Now, she was just waiting for the end of the lecture. None seemed in sight. Mohit continued, not noticing or not caring that Lyra had passed "bored" a long time ago.

"Predator/omnivore animals who hunt cooperatively are likely to see you as 'pack leader' and seem to relax and feel much more secure if the order of leadership starts with you. Taking the reins is moving their heads as if your invisible rear end is right in front of them. They can't generally see straight ahead, but to follow you as their leader their heads would move as your hips do. You are physically on top of them, but in their heads -- you are right ahead of them, leading the way. " Mohit smiled.

Lyra wondered, was Mohit just from far away, was she rude, or maybe was she some form of autistic, like Aspergers? She just wouldn't let up.

"... when it's possible it's a good thing to have your goat, sheep, and so on born right into your hands and have them imprint on you . Horses will 'lean' their necks over their babies, so the feeling of being ridden can be equated with getting a horse hug."

Lesbianism could be boring, thought Lyra. Who knew? "Someone save me from this chatty wing of hell," she prayed.

"The only time horseriding has ever hurt my butt was depacing pacers. As far as thighs, though, that's another story. I'm a knee low rider by balance and habit, I think I still have some abrasion scars on my inner knees and calves from bareback riding pacers until they had nice gaits for riding again."

Worst. Date. Ever, thought Lyra, as time slowed and gradually, efficiently, slowed to a stop with Mohit talking forever, and Lyra painfully stuck and immobilized, unable to end it, and unable to enjoy.

"I'm in China!" I yelled through the phone at my mother. "What on earth are you doing there?" I took a deep breath, trying not to lose my temper and ruin my shot at being granted the favor I desperately needed her to agree to.

In a rush of words I spit out, "It was a last minute trip. A friend asked me to come, and on a whim I just accepted. The first couple of days were great, but then we went out last night and I didn't think I had that much to drink, but I guess I did because I woke up this morning with some type of club insignia stamped on my hand, and I was holding chopsticks and a half empty container of fried rice.....and I just watched the boat I was suppose to be on cast away from the dock."

I heard nothing but silence from the other end, so with trepidation I asked, "Mom, are you still there?"

"What kind of friend would leave you stranded in China?"

"Not a very good one I suppose. It doesn't matter. I'm stuck here and have no money and no way home. Can you help me please?"

"Who is this friend? Is it a man?" Here it comes. The huge fight.

"Eddie," I mumbled into the phone. More silence. I could tell she was really working up a good tongue lashing, so I was surprised when she said, "I told you to stay away from him. No good I said. Well, you've made your bed good this time, and you can just lie in it." And with that, she hung up. Dang it. I dialed another number and counted three rings before he picked up.

"Hello? Dad?"

The script I am carrying in this bag is going to make my greatest dream come true. As an actor as well as an amateur figure skater, having a role as a famous skater in a major film production is my highest aspiration. My idol is the Swiss skater, Stephane Lambiel: there is no one who can spin like him in the world! He is a fantastic athlete, can jump, including a quad, has terrific energy and flare. We look so much alike that I have been asked to sign autographs, but as soon as people hear my American English they know they have made a mistake. Now I am being offered a role playing Stephane Lambiel in a fictionalized story about a skating champion who is involved with international espionage.

The opportunities inherent in playing the role are endless! First, I will get to know Stephane himself, and then there will be the work of making the film on location in Vancouver. The film project will be using the stadium and the entire village there as the most visible set. Several other highly acclaimed skaters will have bit roles in the film. The cast will include Tom Cruise playing Evan Lysacek and Fred Thomson playing gold medalist Dick Button.

Meanwhile, here I am heading home from my day job: This is the fairly beat up locker room hallway leading to the ice arena where the Boston Bruins practice. I'm actually the Zamboni driver here for games, but I work in sales and promotions the rest of the time. So I am totally blown away that I am finally going to make it into a major film, and I really can't believe it is so tailor-made for my interests and abilities. My wife, Susan, is going to be so totally amazed. Even though we went to drama school together and have played opposite each other in several major musical productions, neither of us has ever been offered anything like this. It's going to be a lot of work and a lot of travel away from home, but we're young and it's going to be fabulous.

Phil tried to make it work. He really did. Living with Donovan wasn't easy.

At noon on Friday, Phil was ready for lunch. He felt like something simple and decided on a local sub shop. As he walked down the street, Donovan started to move in a different direction. He felt like Italian, and of course, only the best would do for Donovan.

He pulled Phil down another street and stopped in front of the most expensive restaurant in town, "La Pied".

"Donovan, you know I can't afford this place. Why do you always do this?"

Donovan kicked open the door of "La Pied" and went in anyway. As Phil followed reluctantly, Donovan stopped in front of the Hostess. "Smoking or non-smoking?" She seemed flustered by Phil and Donovan. Perhaps she sensed there were ill feelings between them.

"Neither," Phil retorted angrily, and dragged Donovan out the door again.

Once they were outside, Donovan tried to go back into the restaurant, but Phil stopped him.

"I've had it with you, Donovan, enough is enough!"

Donovan didn't like that look in Phil's eyes. Maybe he'd gone too far. He followed along meekly as Phil tromped down the street with determination.

They reached an old building at the end of a long dirt road, well off the main roadway. Phil had never slowed down the whole way. Donovan felt nervous about this place, he didn't know why. They went inside. It seemed to be deserted. Phil led them to a large concrete slab that ended in a large pit. As they got closer, Donovan could see smoke rising up from the pit and sparks too.

It was a giant incinerator! They were at the dump! Before Donovan could even react, Phil ripped him off his leg and threw him violently into the incinerator.

As Donovan flew at a crazy angle through the air, his last thought was, "Maybe I should have picked Chinese."

The End

Tassh looks over to me, wonder in his liquid, gypsy eyes. I am blond and blue-eyed; this happens sometimes, but I am as much a Gypsy as he is. I however, can pass as while and walk among people without so much as a glance. He would like to be me. He would like to be able to take for grandted that women look at me with that "I would sleep with you" evaluation that he never did get, not even in college, where we both attended but had such different experiences that they might have been two different schools in two different times. He looks at me longingly, wishing he could have my life. Others look at him and can feel the distance, feel the hostility and worry, and wonder.

They do not know that this is the tensions between brothers whom an accident of fate and culture has left us to two so very different lives. We meet for coffee, it's part of our twinsmanship, but as I drink coffee from the very same pot I wonder if it tastes different, each with our so very different tongues.

Recession 2008 Once upon a time there was lauren and hardy. They were hugely effected by recession. And so every morning they took out their chairs. Sitting on the chairs they both were discussing about their future. They don’t know how would it be. After investing thousands of dollars of money that they had taken as loan from the bank. They really had doubts about returning the money. If things would continue the way they are they assumed that they would lose business in the upcoming six months. they both have a family to take care of and children to raise. It is a very difficult time for them. They have to decide. They have to plan and replan. To go ahead with the grocery store or to shut it down. It was even difficult for them to pay out the rents of the shop, house and even car loan. They just hoped that the new government of Barrack Obama comes up with a new revolutionary economical plan for the U.S. which financially supports and helps stabilize the difficult condition of a common man. They just hope that the newly elected President gives priority to the financial situation grasping the country. Banks interest charges are going up day after day. These guys have taken the loan to start their business which could offer them stability and financial solutions. Lauren wonders if he has to get his children out of school. He thinks may be he should start looking for day jobs to atleast support their daily needs. It is a difficult time and there are such limited options. Hardy is thinking if he might just have to give back the new car that he got for his wife. He cant take the pressure from the banks. He is finding it extremely difficult to give the installments. while all these thoughts are going on in their minds a breath of fresh air passes by. a beautiful gorgeous girl walks by them. They forget about their worries and start concentrating on the girl. They watch her walk. and as she moves closer to them she trips on her heels and falls. Both jump out of their seats to give a helping hand. And thus this is what happened while they were sitting on the chairs.

So there I was, eating my chips and drinking some of the fizziest soda pop you ever tasted. Alone, in the woods, just me and miles of untouched nature. I relaxed outside my tent, resting my back against a log, smelling the crackling embers of the exhausted fire I had built, and gazing around the trees at birds, when I noticed an apparition staring back at me! It was a siren sent out of Hell itself, come to steal my idle soul. "Nooo," I cried, in a desperate tone. "It's not my time yet!" She stared at me blankly, with a cold gaze that could freeze fruit juice like so many popsicle. She opened her demon mouth and said "You can't camp here, there's a playground right across the street."

"Next entry," the judge said in a flat monotone. With a great clanking and rattling of ill-used dolley wheels, a monster of a contraption was pushed in. Its owner ground the dolley to a halt a mere three feet from the judges' table and gave them a brief grin, dazzlingly -- almost, but not quite, dazzlingly enough to obscure the rust that crawled over his entry's bodywork, the dials that seemed to flicker at random, and the misaligned components. The judges stared. "I'm Phil," the man said in a surprisingly soft voice, "and this... is my treasure."

Here we see Bill and his brother Billy. Bill has recently been hired as a computer programmer as a technical firm down town. He has stopped by the park to check on his brother Billy. Billy used to own an internet start up company that sold text books to college students. Billy's company didn't do so well, and now he is unemployed, and lives under the foot bridge at the park. As you can see Billy has resorted to digging in the trash to find cans, and scraps of food. some people would think that Bill has shown up to help his brother get back on his feet. However this is not the case, Bill is only here to flaunt his recent success in his poor brother's face. This is that sad reality of life, brothers have been cruel to each other since the days of Cane and Able. In another 60 years Bill and Billy will both be dead, but the world will go on without them. They will soon be forgotten, and this park will become a high rise condo. Nothing will be left of the picture we see today.

It's a small world after all, but not small enough. Your private space, your private carbon dioxide, is being shared with the person you care for most in your life. Not only are your words private among these plants, your very breath is combining with them, your cells, the dandruff from your hair. Your friend is leaving soon, will be going back to his country on the other side of the world. You knew that the two of you would never be together. But, somehow, in this airplane terminal as you two wait for his plane, you know that part of you can combine forever, worked into the DNA of these plants, mixed into this soil. You can hoped that the two of you could make a life together, but at least the two of you can be buried together, a little bit of you will grow and make life. You had not intended for the memorial to your life to be compost, but somehow it comforts you.

She stepped out of the club, her head spinning, literally! She had just made a deal with the devil to save her only son from a fate worse than death. All the world seemed normal like it did less than 24 hours ago, when her whole world started spiraling out of control.

The bright light, it reminded her of his eyes, so so bright as he fell, fell, further, further out of her grasp.

She managed to save him that time.

The only way she knew how to save him was to sacrifice herself.

She saw the bike that zoomed by at the speed of light.

She didnt see the car that followed.

Her son, who was the driver, never took drugs again.

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