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It is night and there is a full moon looking out over a landscape by the water.
By BG
We are sitting in our little boat ever so patiently hoping for a fish to tug at our fishing lines. It was kind of cool being out fishing with our night vision goggles. We had just bought them on Amazon and wanted to try them out. The Salton Sea was maybe not the best place to fish but I had heard that the fish and game department did stock it with some kind of fish so there was hopefully something out there for us to hook into. I imagine nothing too big or challenging to reel in. Every thing looked so strange with night vision sort of like an eerie, odd-colored daylight from another dimension. We decided to move since we had no bites yet. Maybe another spot would be better. We drifted slowly, then we putt-puttered over closer to shore so we could fish and take a closer look at what was happening along the shore. We dropped anchor, threw in our lines and the boat drifted around so we had a good view of the beach.
We all gasped. We could not believe our eyes. We all knew there were areas of the Imperial Valley where you could see strange stuff but who knew there was a section hidden away that was right out of Jurassic Park. Two dinosaurs right in front of our eyes. Yow! We wondered how many more were around.
We weighed anchor very, very quietly and drifted off. The Salton Sea isn’t very deep. They wouldn’t even have to swim. They could wade out and get us. As soon as we were much farther out we revved up the motor and hightailed it back to the launching sight on the other side of the sea. The night vision fishing expedition had ended and we lived to tell the tale. No fish however.
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By CC
After the accident, I was a mess at first. The worst of it was economic: I was out of work for months since both my workshop and my truck were decimated in the explosion, even though it had occurred many miles away.
I did have insurance, though. After the head frame and tibial torsion braces were off, and a week before my reconstructive maxilliofacial surgery began, I was able to drag myself around on a walker and peruse the Internet for tips on healing.
I learned that many health practitioners recommend dry skin brushing. I was intrigued. I obtained a dry skin brush and began to brush every place on my body that I could reach with the arm that remained. In time I learned how to hold the brush with my teeth and treat that arm, too. Within one year of diligent dry skin brushing, I grew back my missing limb, my face healed without surgery, I lost 50 pounds and toned my abs.
The next photograph will show my trainer and detail how she fell in love with me. We own a chain of dry brushing salons with which I’m sure you are all familiar by now. This dry brushing experience has been an eye opener for sure. I’m offering a substantial 15% membership discount to all your readers. You won’t regret it, folks. It will change your life.
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By CT
Kathleen slumped in her wheelchair in the nursing home. To all appearances, she seemed unresponsive and lost in her own world.
Her mind, however, flitted from memory to memory, and relished each one.
She saw herself as a young girl, wearing a lace-trimmed dress, as she admired a plot of sunflowers. She faced into the wind, which tangled and tousled her hair.
“Ah,” she thought, “That was a wondrous day!”
Her doctor and his assistant observed her from a few feet away.
“What does she think about?” the assistant, young and a bit over-confident, asked her superior.
The doctor said, “Only she knows. She doesn’t recognize her daughters; they’re lost in her memories. As long as a memory is inaccessible, the mind is unable to change it. She’s just marking time now.”
“Wrong,” Kathleen thought. “I’m making time to remember!”
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By MD
Muriel’s antique bottle collection was something she took pride in. It was too small, to be sure – only six bottles – but she displayed them proudly on her kitchen windowsill, right under her grandmother’s hand-crocheted lace valance. It seemed only natural, then, that when she created her dating profile for “OurTime.com” that she would mention her love of all things which had stood the test of time. “Just like me,” she murmured to herself as she hit the submit button.
Every day Muriel checked in to see if there was an e-mailed response to her dating foray, but each day, to her dismay, there was nothing. After several weeks of diligent checking, she gave up and shut her computer down. “I guess there’s no one interested in lovely antiques…of which I suppose I am one,” Muriel stated aloud to herself. One day, however, after almost a year since her original post, Muriel fired up her computer and was surprised and pleased to find an inquiry from a retired high school physics teacher. The post was already several months old, but Muriel gathered her courage and responded to his inquiry.
I’m sorry you’ve had to wait so long to hear from me,” she wrote in her email. “As a former physics teacher, I’m sure you understand my tardy response. It has a lot of similarities to what was called cold fusion.”
Taking a deep breath, Muriel hit the send key. Almost immediately, there was a response from Harvey, her potential suitor. Correspondence proceeded fast and furiously for the next week, and the two decided to meet.
Muriel and Harvey married the day after they met. For a wedding present, Harvey presented Muriel with an antique glass beaker, which she placed proudly on the windowsill alongside her bottle collection.
“Thank you, Harvey darling,” she said. “This whirlwind romance also has a lot of similarities to what was called cold fusion.”
“Of course, Muriel,” Harvey replied, as he swept her into his arms for a loving kiss.
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By JS
Maria’s husband had left her for a younger woman. She was devastated to the point that she was not sleeping. Her appetite fell off and she lost almost 50 pounds, leaving the already slender woman a mere skeleton. Actually she woke up one day to realize she was on the point of death. Her ex had wiped out her finances and taken both children.
The realization that she herself was dying from stress - panic attacks making her a prisoner in the rented bedroom, which she would soon be kicked out of for non-payment – coupled with the thought of her dear children being brought up by THAT woman drove her to action.
Maria did the only thing she had the thought and resources for. Struggling out of bed one morning, she walked unsteadily the half mile through the woods, adjusted the outside gas line at her old house and, after an appropriate wait, threw in a match.
Maria walked slowly away, but was gone long before the emergency vehicles arrived. She came to live with me a couple of days later. Her panic attacks continue, and I encourage Maria to sit by the window and keep focusing on her breath.
