Big Stories in Two Little Sentences
As the shadows made their way up the mountains of the Eastern Kentucky town of Hazard on a muggy, August Friday night, the four handsome boys, all of high school age, reached for a beer from the back of the shiny, black SUV.
Four hours later, as the EMT’s pulled the last of the four boys’ lifeless bodies out of the twisted heap of metal, four pairs of parents sat on their living room couches in their comfortable homes, completely unaware of the pain that would soon come their way.
Angela was consumed with fear each time her husband left the house thanks to the increase in crime in her neighborhood so she secretly bought a gun to protect herself. One morning the security alarm went off so Angela ran down the stairs and shot the shadowy figure that was trespassing; Angela turned on the light only to find her husband lying in a pool of blood holding a bouquet of roses.
Mary wept. Twenty minutes later, she began waking Frank, Ned and Bianca, filled cereal bowls, started the wash, found stamps for the piles of bills and opened the drapes to another dreary 6 a.m.
When I felt most deeply moved by the Holy Spirit my loved ones told me that was not where God wanted me. They were right: He doesn’t exist.
I knew from the beginning I would be wed to my Lord, though I fought my father’s decision bitterly, having privately accepted my lot to rule my family’s lower household. Father longed to raise our name from ashes into greatness, however, so he offered me up to my Lord — a widowed, aging weasel, who had no heir to his name, his stature or his wealth — never guessing such dealings might breed a bitter, vindictive heart in his precious daughter.
Seeing her husband exit the mens room while she still waited online, Madeline turned to the woman behind her and commented, “I know why women live 7 years longer than men.
“It’s comp time for ladies room lines.”
What was I thinking about when I decided to join this elite unit that defies the odds, goes on secret, dangerous missions behind enemy lines after jumping out of an airplane at 30,000 feet?
Semper Fi
The moonlight reflects on the shimmering lake and the water looks orange. I like the view and will sit by the lake painting and cherishing the view.
Two things were playing on his mind. The first being that they’d misspelt his name on the wanted poster.
Sitting awkwardly and gripping the tools, there is a moment of reverence before the act and a whispered prayer for fertility.
In an uncomfortable moment, she can’t help but wonder if people will be able to tell that the baby’s father was a turkey baster.
Sometimes I think I’m awesome. Every other time I just know it.
I came out to find her vacuuming the grass.
Slowpoke, I said; I had already finished mowing the carpet.
I was only sixteen when they made me remember my childhood; the sterile, white walled interview room haunted me ever after. I lived a long life, but I died too soon to ever forget it.
I take a good long stretch as I awaken to another predictable morning; sun shining through the window, birds singing in the backyard, my breakfast ready and waiting, a warm bed in which to return. Basking in the sunlight, I close my eyes and begin to meditate when I am jolted by the throbbing pain of you stepping on my tail!
“My, you two girls would fight over anything,” the exasperated, harried step-mom sighed, as she admonished them about the importance of sharing and being kind and that patience is a virtue, and that all good things come to those who wait, and just about every other homily that she could think of to make them realize how selfish and child-like they were acting, trying to steal each other’s food.
“Ok,” she relented, looking into their beautiful, soulful brown eyes, “more kibble and doggie treats coming up, but no more fighting, you hear me?”
My chest burned at our salty unraveling. The only thing that I’ve ever wanted to return was his confidence in me.
Driving I catch sight of the port of Piraeus, the small lighthouse, canopied tavernas, yacht and dinghy rocking like pendulums keeping time. Greece even in winter has the subterranean vibrancy of an ancient culture, I feel at peace.
Nobody really liked her; however, that didn’t stop her from sashaying (like a cat in heat) out onto the stage, wearing the tightest, shortest (Harper Valley PTA sleazy) hooker red dress we – or probably anyone else for that matter – had ever seen, to accept (without any reservations) the award for teacher of the year. Of course, the pubescent young men present erupted into thunderous applause, dog woofs, and whistling (a sound akin to what happens when someone scores a touchdown at the Superbowl), while the girls and adults – totally embarrassed by this flagrant sexual display – sat silent with looks of disdain and arms folded as she stepped up to the microphone and said,
“I want to thank you all for this honor, which I could not have possibly imagined that I would win; however, I cannot accept it, and would like at this time, to present it to my friend and colleague, Mary White, who is a better teacher, better person, better dresser (greeted by snorts and laughter) and is not having an affair with the principal,”
and, this being said, then handed the plaque to Mrs. White (who had been runner up), turned and walked out of the auditorium, which had fallen into complete and utter silence.
“It’s Valentines day,” his sister told him as he stroked the edge of the portrait he kept next to the small, heart-shaped, blood-stained note containing the words “rejected” and “nothing more to live for, thanks to you.” While he looked at the finger her ring used to occupy, all he could mutter was “Yeah, I know.”
Every Friday night for the last 20 years, the party girl made the rounds at the local bars, getting smashed, singing karaoke, and finally, at closing time, selecting the lucky guy to take her home where they had wild, random, stranger sex.
Now pushing 40, as she sits alone at the bar, used up and no longer attractive or desired, she asks the bartender, “Where did everyone go?”