It was starting to get dark but Thomas continued to drive. Where was the main highway? This was the last time hed listen to his damn friend again when it came to directions. Looking out he saw that they were going to have a bad snow storm soon from the darkening of the sky. Wonderful just wonderful! He was supposed to be home with the family getting nauseous at bad jokes, and pissed off at nosey siblings and cousins. Crap he wished he didnt have to go home this year for Christmas.
Fire is often said to be the one single discovery which led man to rise above the beasts and enabled him to distinguish himself as a ruler of the earth. But to a man standing on the sidewalk in his pajamas and watching a holocaust of orange flame destroying his home and with it everything that he spent his life accumulating, fire is a damnation — an evil invented by the devil for his persecution.
Reverend James Walker had been the minister in the rural community of Woods Fork for the past six years, and both he and his wife, Abby, were highly thought of by the congregation. Standing on the church steps talking to some of his church members, one Sunday after the services were over, he was finding it very difficult to concentrate on the conversation.
“Wow it’s so big!” said my brother, peering out of the car window. “It’s even bigger on the inside!” My dad shot back, chuckling as we pulled into the driveway. I just rolled my eyes in the back seat, I didn’t feel like laughing at jokes yet. The end of the road trip to my Aunt’s mansion quickly reminded me of my circumstances. A few nights ago our house caught fire and we were forced to relocate. My dad threw a party and someone bought that rum that you can light on fire. They tried doing “fire shots” and guess what happened. I thought these people were adults?? anyway, Luckily my dad’s sister has a huge house and said we were welcome as long as we needed, so my dad packed us all up with everything we could salvage and we booked it up here. As we rode along the driveway I began to make out some cars parked in front, some of them looked very expensive. The land closer to the house was beautifully landscaped, not that much needed to be done in the winter, but you could tell they kept it maintained. Looking back at the house was almost shocking, actually being close to it I started to realize how large it actually was, like a castle almost. Literally bigger than my school. It was mostly brick with large, dark windows. My Aunt and cousin met us by the front of the house as we were getting out of the car. It was the first time I had seen them in years. We made our awkward greetings and they exchanged their sorrow for the loss of our house, I was sad, but for some reason it seemed like I was the only sad one. My dad and brother were happier than ever to live in this mansion while I’m here missing what I had back home. That house will always be more home than this, even if it has one of those soda machines that mixes whatever flavor you want in the kitchen.
About 12-13 years ago while I was still working as a corrections deputy for my local sheriffs office, I had what I considered as an amusing situation arise. Our jail is fairly modern having been completed and opened in 1995. Its a direct control facility which basically means there was one officer such as myself in a unit with up to 60 inmates. We rotate duty positions about once a week and I was working a general population unit. Now the week before I had been assigned to one of the rover positions, where we were expected to help out where and as needed in the units.
A couple years ago I had an accident that left me semi disabled and prime to receive a check for the rest of my life, just not one that would allow me to live comfortably. The looming threat of residence loss fueled my searching frenzy for affordable housing. In time, I found a place on a street named after me, Dallas, but sadly it was a seedy trailer park.
My name is Carol. This story began about twelve years
I belong to a strict Muslim family and live in one of the larger cities in central India. My family is highly conservative yet we are quite rich. In the sense, that my father and his 7 brothers are able to live comfortably with their families in a huge, walled compound. It has three 3-storied buildings with large, comfortable apartments for each family. Normally, our family is very restrictive, but there are a few members of my family who have rebelled secretly and given in to the temptation of lust.
This is the story of a girl who is a fine upright college student . She is five foot eight inches tall. Has dark brown eyes along with mid-level dark black hair. In her third year of collage, if you ask around for her most people wouldnt even know who your talking about.
Jack and Sharon were always close. When in their teen years, they explored sex, but never went all the way, but 30 some years later, fate put them back together and finally made love
Behind the outward serenity and closed doors of middle-class suburban homes, we find people are tormented by the same problems that have afflicted men and women throughout the ages.
RWS-244 DADDYS DELIGHT by Richard Van Dorne
So early Friday evening I drove over to Russell’s house to pick him up with plans for both of us to head up to my parents cabin for the weekend that was close to a small country bumpkin college town inundated with plenty of hot co-eds. Granted Russell and I were still in High School, but both of us being of larger stature, we could pass for college kids. Even though Russell was just a young pup of 17.
Abby turned off the water in the shower, and pulled a
The process of growing up, of passing through the age of adolescence has, through the ages, been marked by great inner turmoil, uncertainty and tremendous pressures from family and peer group alike. Certainly, in our society today, the problems of youth appear to be more marked than ever before.
I was posed with a dilemma. I wasnt quite between the proverbial rock and
I lead the typical boring life of a stay at home mom.
Although the bedpost could have provided support for his venture, the skinny hairy man was too drunk to notice. He balanced on one leg and regarded the sock — his arch-enemy of the moment — curled enticingly around his toes. He grabbed for it, missed, grabbed again, finally managed to pull it up at least as far as his ankle, took that for a victory, put his foot back on the floor just in time to avoid a fall. He remembered the voluptuous girl on the bed, frowned at her, began the search for his other sock.
Joan Frazer hurried down the worn linoleum hallway of old Montock High School, books and her class record under one arm, a small can of film gripped tightly in her other hand. Her long, satiny brunette hair cascaded over her shoulders as she walked quickly, her form-hugging dress stretching tautly over her body and accentuating the fluid lines of her movements.
There are times when you are hurtling down the rail-road
Always one to date thin, tight-bodied girls, I was between girlfriends