Harry was a top notch auto mechanic in northern Lebanon County, Pennsylvania just outside the town of Fredericksburg. By twenty five he had started his own quite successful business, Blue Mountain Auto. Emma ran the office with the assistance of the daughter-in-laws while both sons and their daughter worked in the four bay shop with their dad. The son-in-law joined the business as a body man in a smaller two bay body shop annex. It truly was a family business. The business originally sat on a ten acre plot that was divided into two acre plots, one for the business and four for their homes. Needless to say, it was a solid, often profane, gearhead family.

The extended family was finishing their annual Thanksgiving feast, relaxing, as they enjoyed warm homemade pumpkin pie. Several of the men had to loosen their pants to handle their expanded girth. Everyone sat back smiling as the turkey induced lethargy spread.

As usual, Emma asked her grandchildren what they wanted for Christmas. The explanation was that Grandmothers had a special hotline to Santa. One by one she asked each excited kid as the adults chuckled at their excitement and anticipation. That was about to change.

In the near future, Andy is looking for a way to earn some money. He decides to go along with what appears to be a Nigerian scam. Things don't go as planned of course.

Gotta Know Now

I met Aylese a few days before my 12th birthday. It was an early spring day and I spent it in the woods across from my house in Papillion, Nebraska. The woods, such as they were, were a small patch of land that sat between our sub-division and the flat lands that once had a railroad line, with wooden beams, metal plates and rusty track spikes being the only remnants of that time. In the middle of the trees was a creek that during the summer and fall was near dry but in the late winter and early spring it was very deep and had a swift current.

"Miracles do happen, then?" Janet asked, making Ellie roll her eyes as she walked into the kitchen, her fluffy pink dressing gown wrapped around her to shield her from the morning autumn air.

"So I'm excited about today," Ellie shrugged. "Sue me. And besides, it's not like I shouldn't be eager to get back to college- it's not like my summer holidays have been anything to write home about."

Smile

My father was admitted to the hospital and I, without any fight, was admitted into a cell at juvenile hall. I wasn’t as miserable as I thought I would be. I was held over the weekend without visitors.

“Ahh!” I screech as my ‘seat’ slides across the ground, threatening to tip me on my backside with every movement it makes. “Jeez- how did I let you talk me into this again?”

“You said you wanted a Valentine’s date that was truly unique,” the young Welshman replies with an almost sadistic chuckle as he fiddles with his controls. “I guarantee you, this is something no one will have ever done before!”

“There’s a reason for that!” I complain, grimacing as I feel the cold February air blow up my extra-short skirt. “And I’m not really dressed for it either!”

The rather fat guy, formerly muscle when he was in highschool twenty years ago, waved them thru before Melissa could speak.

Derek remembered the good old days. He was the man in highschool. Just after highschool he had gotten busted by the cops for some weed and it ruined his life. He, of course, blamed it entirely on the police. After all he was "the man".

Shadowsblade a Whateley Tale: Written by Shadowsblade
Created for war and forged in pain, dealing with demons within and
without.

In this one Another time...to come.

Another time

The fight started in the summer before my freshman year.
It was verbally bloody and nothing was off-limits; no words were barred.

In the blue corner, my sister, who was five months pregnant
In the red corner, my parents; who were not pissed about the pregnancy but more over the fact she had left home for a week and never said where she went.

If you are a Veteran of recent Middle Eastern Military action, this might be mildly triggering, but I doubt it. This story has Muslim, Middle Eastern culture in it, but it is not about Islam. Lots of Middle Eastern folk are Christian, Yazidi or not religious at all. This is about an American War Veteran, and a family of Middle Eastern descent. I am hoping that it is romantic and somewhat funny. It is set in the future, near the middle of the 21st century, and might be mildly prophetic. Sometimes the most fun and the greatest reward comes from the oddest places. Enjoy.

My name is Michael Briden, an eighteen-year-old senior at Walter Ridge high school. Today is Friday, the last day of my incarceration, the last day I'll ever have to attend this sad excuse for a high school because tomorrow afternoon my class will walk across the stage and receive our high school diplomas. And Sunday will begin a new life for me and my two siblings. It will be the day Mark and I, die.

HUGS!
Shauna

Janet fidgeted as she sat back down in her stiff, uncomfortable seat. She was immaculately dressed in a smart black skirt suit, a clean white blouse, wrinkle-free light-coloured tights and low heels that matched that her suit. Beside her, Ellie was also dressed smartly, far more smartly than she ever had been in her soft white blouse and knee-length black pencil skirt. With her toned down make-up and her blonde hair clipped back into a ponytail, she was every inch the smart young woman.

“This one’s for table six,” my colleague Saffron says to me as she places two hot cups of coffee on my tray. I take the opportunity to stealthily straighten my tight miniskirt before grabbing my tray and taking it over to the young couple at the corner table.

“Ah, thank you!” The young man says with genuine gratitude as I hand him and his girlfriend their drinks. “Can we also order a plate of chips to share, please?”

“Sure!” I enthuse. “What flavour would you like?”

“Let’s try the chilli and cheese,” the young woman says with a devilish grin.

As I write this tale of woe, the sight of manicured fingers flitting over my keyboard evokes the utter misery of my situation. Not long ago, I was vice president of a major pharmaceutical firm, with a six figure salary and a corner office. Now I am sitting in a secretary’s cubicle, trying to keep from snagging my pantyhose each time I escape from my pathetic little desk. How did this ever happen to me?