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Forgetting negates the meaning of history.
By RMAF
Salacious Selena Samantha always kept a dizzying life of twirling between the opposites: angels and devils, right and wrong, loud and soft, highs and lows, sweet and sour, darkness and light, and present times and historical times. She always felt a part of two worlds, and she was being tugged on from two totally different, strong entities on opposite sides. She decided to simplify her crowded thoughts and make some changes. She decided to forget half of all her beliefs, starting with complex history. Although she has always been told by her wise father that studying history helps us to understand and improve our present and improve on our future, forgetting history negates its meaning and values.
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He knows what he likes and what he does not.
By BG
Hal was finally going for it. He had a girl and was ready to tie the knot. He hadn’t taken the same route as all his college buddies and they had been worried about him. Each and every one of them had married their college sweethearts within 5 years of graduation. Hal, however, had made it to their 10 year reunion still wild and single. They took him aside and proposed that they find him the girl of his dreams. They assured him they could. They assured him they knew his likes and dislikes and could take care of everything. It took a bit of convincing, but Hal finally gave in and told them to give it a try. After all, they quoted over and over, “He knows what he likes and what he does not.” And we know what he knows. So he acquiesced to their insistence. He told them he was going to set a date for the wedding and put in his time-off request so there would be a honeymoon right afterwards. His buddies set to work straight away and the big day had finally arrived. There he stood at the altar. She was ready to come down the aisle. Hal looked up and exclaimed “Wow.”
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A woman in a red dress holds a crescent moon aloft.
By CT
To celebrate the New Moon, a woman stands in her flower garden amidst the sunflowers. Just as she begins her late afternoon ritual, a monarch butterfly lands lightly on a nearby flower.
The woman, wearing a red dress , holds a crescent moon aloft in reverence and joy.
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There is something about a baked potato that is so comforting.
By JS
I spent a lot of time debating. Should I run the half-marathon or not? There was all that talk about Miller’s Bridge – the County didn’t want to replace it; but would the repairs hold yet another year? Only twenty-five people were signed up for the run. How much damage could 50 feet, pounding down to the finish line, do to the old wood structure?
I signed up. If the others were unafraid, why should I play the coward. Besides, there was the all you can eat baked potato feed at the end. All my favorite toppings: sour cream, chives, bacon – about anything you’d want.
That morning I was not, you might say, at the front of the pack. Dead last would be more accurate. My fellow runners made quite the din as they hit Miller’s Bridge, all packed together like a stampeding cattle herd. When they hit mid-point on the bridge, there was a crunching, cracking, splintering sound and they all, every last one, vanished before my eyes! I was going too fast to stop, and with the assurance of sour cream on baked potato on the far side, I jumped, positive I’d bridge the gap. There is something about a baked potato that is so comforting.
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I told myself he could surely survive another month, and I was not over concerned for his safety.
By MD
I work for Today’s Bride magazine. Surely that qualifies me as a wedding trend expert. I was honored and excited to be assigned to cover the magazine’s first bi-racial lesbian wedding. My husband, however, was not so pleased.
“This could be dangerous,” he told me. “There might be protests. The religious right, the ACLU, the white supremacists – it could turn violent. I don’t want you to go.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I replied. “This is a piece of history. I’ve got to be there. I’ve got to record this momentous event.”
It took some strong words, but I finally convinced him to let me go. What I didn’t know was that he planned to follow me there – spying on me, as I later interpreted it.
It was a truly lovely affair. Both brides were beautiful, the ceremony touching and poignant, the guests delighted to attend. It was my husband who caused the uproar. Just as the minister proclaimed “I now pronounce you wife and wife,” my husband suddenly made his presence known by shouting “You mean woman and woman!” I was mortified. As the two brides huddled together, each protecting the other, I took a last photo from behind and then tackled my husband and took him down. He did not arise. The paramedics were summoned and he was taken to the hospital. They told me he was in a coma.
I told myself he could surely survive another month, and I was not over concerned for his safety. I returned to the historic wedding celebration, congratulated the two brides, and feasted on roast beef and wedding cake.
To my everlasting gratification, my rear view photo of the two women, side by side in their wedding garb, made the cover of Today’s Bride. I was truly a part of that historic event. I was wrong about my husband, though. He died of his injuries a week after the wedding.
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In winter there is no need to get up early.
By CC
They hung on by a thread. It wasn’t much, but it was all they had left, all they could manage, all they could handle. He stood at the stove, stirring a pot of curried rice. The scent passed over her like a memory; outside the sun turned down a notch, casting shadows over the Sudoku pad on the table in front of her.
Winter was coming. In winter there is no need to get up early. They would probably turn to stone in their bed one night.
But it wasn’t here yet. They were still hanging on. She walked to the open door and looked out. The wind blew ashes past her feet. “It’s still burning,” she announced to no-one.
He left the stove and walked over to the door to stand next to her. He set his hand companionably on her shoulder. “Did you think it had gone out?”
“No. I don’t think that’s possible, do you?”
“Not anymore. Let’s shut the door. Dinner’s ready, anyway.”
They sat at the table, silently spooning rice into their mouths, until they had finished.
“Winter is coming,” he said suddenly.
“I just had that thought earlier,” she replied.
