A man is faced with the goddess of justice and she makes him an unusual offer.

How We Met

When I heard my favorite magazine was having a contest which involved writing an essay on how you met the love of your life, I couldn’t resist it, if only because we arent a typical couple.

My submission went like this:

The first time I saw the love of my life was at the YMCA. She was just relaxing in the water, sometimes moving but mostly taking it very easy.

Then came the moment that made me want to get to know this lady better. A kid came by, and accidentally splashed her in the face, and she laughed.

It has been a while, yes, and no, this is not a new story from me (although I'm quite certain that if anyone was waiting, they stopped long time ago), but here, have a poem from the strange place that is my head.

P.S.: I know it's not a limerick.

It was a rainy day in 1982. This particular event took place in the spring of that year. Therefore, it was in late March early April.

Images 41

Previously on Images…

“Neither did I until Jenna, They gave me the you’re going to die letter too, get your shit done…I was supposed to be dead a long time ago according to them.”

“Blessed ain’t?”

“Oh fucking get over yourself Ingrid. Other people have it hard; other people have had it harder than we’ll thankfully ever know.”

“Bullshit.”

“I’ve got a Somali waitress down stairs that’s a challenge to that attitude honey and despite the shit she’s been through she’s still a damned nice person. You…you’re not and it’s that poor fuckin me attitude that’s doing it.”

This is a short story I wrote many years ago. It was posted to the old Big Closet and a friend of mine suggested I post it again.

You can find the strangest things in a City Park

Okay fine here Dorothy. Here is the little story you been bugging me to write all week! Hope your happy!

WARNING this may require tissue.

Pass In On
Chapter 8 (The last bit)

At the top of the stairs, Momma stopped and looked up at her handsome
prince. “I’ve told you all about the kids’ day, but you still haven’t told me about yours.”

Dad shrugged his shoulders. “Not really much to tell. You know the moving business ... pack this ... move that ... break something and blame it on the helper. Just the usual ... nothing special.”

Momma heard the words, but there was sparkle in her love’s eyes which meant there was more to the story.

Pass It On
Chapter 6

Noticing the door to Paris’s room was ajar he walked the few steps to her doorway and pushed it open. Seeing her empty bed he turned back to Momma.
“So what’s the story with It?”

Pass It On
Chapter 5

The first room they stopped at was on the left and had double occupancy. Even before Momma and Dad peeked in, the sounds of Justin Beiber singing “Baby” told anyone in the house and on Churchman Avenue, what two girls shared this room.

“Doesn’t Destiny ever get tired of that song?” Dad cringed as Momma went to her baby’s bedside and turned off the disc player.

Introduction: What would you do if presented with three wishes, no strings attached? Yes, you'd have to be careful; however, there are no time constraints. You have all the time you need to figure out what you want. And, what would you do if those wishes would enable you to be the person on the outside that you were on the inside? That is only part of Adam Grunewald's dilemma.

This is another story in the Cynthia Chronicles series. Other stories in the series are An Incremental Journey, Cynthia and the Reluctant Girlfriend, Cynthia and the Dumpster Diver, Cynthia and the Moment of Truth, Cynthia and the High School Years - Part I, Cynthia and the High School Years - Part II, Charli and the Girl Cave, Bobbie and the Glass Ceiling; and Randi and the College Professor,. The time frame of this story follows about three to four years after Charli and the Girl Cave.

Tears of the Princess

By Melodie Thomas

Edited by Holly Hart

Chapter 12


Saturday, October 16, 2010

I tried to think of what I knew to be true, and my first thought was of Claudia...
the solid sense of her reality, of our conversation together...
but then I realized that May had seemed no less real. After all, I'd poked her in the arm.
She shut the door of my car after getting in. And she opened it when she got out — didn't she?
I couldn't quite remember. But it didn't matter: if I was the only one who saw her,
then everything she did and said could easily be figments of my imagination.