The lake , the ruin , short story

MR. CHAINMAIL. Would it not be a fine thing, Captain, you being picturesque, and I poetical; you being for the lights and shadows of the present, and I for those of the past; if we were to go together over the ground which was travelled in the twelfth century by Giraldus de Barri, when he accompanied Archbishop Baldwin to preach the crusade?

CAPTAIN FITZCHROME. Nothing, in my present frame of mind, could be more agreeable to me.

A female pilot with no arms – true story!

Born in 1983 in Sierra Vista, Arizona, USA, Jessica has learned to live her life with her feet. Born without arms and all doctors did not know why.
There were many questions at the time about whether Jessica would be able to live a “normal” life. However, Jessica’s father has said he never shed a tear about her birth condition. He had full confidence in her potential.

Angel rescued sick girl – true story!

This incident happened in Charlotte, North Carolina, USA, in September 2008. 14-year-old Chelsea Barton was born five weeks prematurely which resulted in developmental disabilities and serious health problems all her life. Chelsea got sick very easily and going back and forth to the hospital very often. In 2008, she caught pneumonia and was eventually put on life support at Presbyterian Hospital in Charlotte, North Carolina. Doctors told Chelsea’s mother that there was no hope for young Chelsea’s recovery.

True story: real winners don’t give up!

This is a true story of a young woman who went through the most gruesome fire. When you read her story, you’ll realize that your trials are absolutely nothing compared to what this young girl went through.
It was September 25, 2000. Maricel Apatan was an 11-year old girl in Zamboanga. On that day, this little girl went with her uncle to draw water.

Maggot And Misogyny

The jarwal stared at her malevolently, saliva dripping from its gaping jaws, making its fearsome teeth glisten in the harsh winter sunlight.
     What's a jarwal?
     I don't know. I haven't though about it. Something fierce and nasty. A huge maggot-like beastie with a ferocious temper and huge teeth. A bit like in Alien, only more like a maggot.
     It's a bit science fiction isn't it? You don't even like science fiction.
     I know. I'm just trying to convey an atmosphere of terror and anger in the light of recent events. I suppose the jarwal is a representation of my anger.
     Well try another approach. Don't make up words or fierce animals. No jarwals. Be direct.
     He was angry.

They're Made out of Meat

"They're made out of meat."
     "Meat?"
     "Meat. They're made out of meat."
     "Meat?"
     "There's no doubt about it. We picked up several from different parts of the planet, took them aboard our recon vessels, and probed them all the way through. They're completely meat."
     "That's impossible. What about the radio signals? The messages to the stars?"
     "They use the radio waves to talk, but the signals don't come from them. The signals come from machines."

Death By Scrabble

It's a hot day and I hate my wife.
     We're playing Scrabble. That's how bad it is. I'm 42 years old, it's a blistering hot Sunday afternoon and all I can think of to do with my life is to play Scrabble.
     I should be out, doing exercise, spending money, meeting people. I don't think I've spoken to anyone except my wife since Thursday morning. On Thursday morning I spoke to the milkman.

4 Sons

These 4 gents go out to play golf one sunny morning. One is detained in the clubhouse, and the other three are discussing their children while walking to the first tee.

"My son Kent," says one, "has made quite a name for himself in the home-building industry. He began as a carpenter, but now owns his own design and construction firm. He's s

Determination and Persistence

In 1883, a creative engineer named John Roebling was inspired by an idea to build a spectacular bridge connecting New York with the Long Island. However bridge building experts throughout the world thought that this was an impossible feat and told Roebling to forget the idea. It just could not be done. It was not practical. It had never been done before.
Roebling could not ignore the vision he had in his mind of this bridge.

The Things We Do For Love

Roses. He had shown up in front of her door with a bouquet of roses.
"Will you go on a date with me?"
She remembered. The curvy, blonde girl. Ian smirking. They had been holding hands. Right in front of Amy.
"No."
And she shut the door in his face.
Finally. Finally.
Finally she had said 'no' to Ian Kabra.
…Oh, you silly girl, what have you done?
She opened the door to yell something stupid that would maybe make him forgive her, but he wasn't there anymore.
Rain had started pouring down, and a red petal made its' way down the ground.
Ian Kabra was feeling empty.
There were so many things wrong with that sentence.
He was a Kabra, for God's sake. Kabras' didn't feel. It wasn't what they were programmed to do. Plot? Of course. Kill? Without the slightest trace of conscience. But feel?
It had been approximately five and a half days since he last saw Amy (132 hours since she had slammed her door and torn his pride to itty bitty bites) and it was slowly tearing away at his sanity.
He'd had to cancel the reservation in the fancy restaurant he was planning to take her to, plus he'd had to withdraw his order for the countless roses (156 bouquets, for anyone who's interested) he was supposed to give Amy after their date.
Which had not happened.
She had also hit his foot pretty hard. Ian had to bunny-hop his way to the car. He had succeeded fairly well, except for that one time he fell into a bush.
Such sad woe for my toe.
 
Every time he closed his eyes, he didn't see clues. He didn't see ways that would help them win this crazy competition. Hell, no. All he saw was her face.
Damn, her face.
Ian felt for Amy in ways that he had never felt before…he hated how he felt so protective of her, like he never wanted to let her out of his sight, which was crazy, since he never even saw her that much.
So, as a consequence, he had resolved to drinking generous amounts of heavy liquor (imported, of course) every night so as to knock himself out and not have dreams about a certain red-head. This was a bit drastic, seeing as he was only fourteen, but what the world didn't know wouldn't kill it.
But he was on the point of giving up. It had proved too hard for him to avoid Amy like the plague, and he had finally begun to admit that he liked her.
A fact that scared him senseless (though he didn't show it) because liking implied loving.
And then directly after he had made this world-changing discovery, she had the nerve to go and slam the door in his face. Ian didn't know what rejection was, having never felt it till now, but he was pretty sure what Amy had done hit spot-on.
But right now, he didn't care, because Ian Kabra always got what he wanted in life.
And right now, what he wanted was Amy.
"Are you sure this will work?"
Ian looked irritably up from the crazy Mexican clothing he had been forced to wear, to his smirking sister.
He felt small in his stupid, blue, V-necked, ruffled costume with the sparkles and sequins. He hated that he had resorted to asking Natalie for help. And the fact that she had actually agreed had bothered him more than anything else.
At first, he had been kind of grateful. But when Natalie had shown him his get-up, he got the idea that his sister only wanted to make him look stupid in front of humanity so that she could get his share of the Kabra estate when his parents disowned him.
Ian could practically hear his father. ("IAN! WHERE IS YOUR DIGNITY? YOUR PRIDE? WHAT ARE YOU DOING? WHAT IS THAT SUIT?")
"Of course, Ian," Natalie rolled her eyes. "Girls find it romantic when guys serenade them."
"I'll take your word for it." Ian said sarcastically.
"Why can't I just hire a plane to spell out her name in the air or something?" Ian muttered, picking at the V-neckline. It was ugly, ugly, material.
"Way too typical." Natalie said simply. "Trust me, this is the best way for you to convince Amy to go on a date."
Ian did not understand the convoluted workings of his sister's mind. How was him wearing a blue chicken costume going to make Amy swoon for him?
Natalie proceeded to ruffle through a bunch of shopping bags she had brought with her.
"Here," Natalie announced, handing Ian a pair of navy blue boots she had dug out from a brown bag labeled 'Construction Wear'.
"What am I supposed to do with this—this…thing?" Ian said, aghast. The boots were a drab color, plus they were made of rubber. Rubber.
"Oh, you just clip them on your ears—what the hell do you think you're supposed to do with boots, brother?"
Ian almost laughed.
He had been to countless dates, had more than his fair share of girlfriends, and he had won those girlsover by simply looking at them. But Amy wasn't that kind of girl…and maybe Ian welcomed that challenge.
…He just didn't see why he had to look like a blue chicken.
"Fine." Ian said quietly, bracing himself. He tugged the boots on, wrinkling his nose in disgust. Natalie looked strangely bright.
"That's fantastic, Ian. Now, go out there in your…um, er, Halloween costume, bring the guitar and the backup tambourine players, and..." Natalie snorted, letting out a laugh. "Raise the roof, brother."
Ian gave Natalie a good, sharp glare as he walked forward to the demise of his Kabra dignity.
The things I do for Amy…
Oh, Amy…
"What?" Amy asked absent-mindedly, looking up from her book. Dan was inspecting his baseball cards like they were the world's greatest discovery.
"I didn't say anything."
Amy, oh, Amy…
"There you go again," Amy said, annoyed. "Stop it, dweeb."
To her surprise, Dan rushed to the window. "Aha. Hey, Amy, come look at this."
"What?" Amy pushed past her brother and…
…saw Ian in a costume kind of the like the one in Nacho Libre playing a guitar.
Here goes…Ian squinted at the paper Natalie had given him.
ENGLISH?
If the song he was supposed to be singing was in English, why'd he dress up Mexican?
Amy
I don't think I'll ever see
A girl with eyes greener than yours
They're like pickles
With them, my heart soars
His sister was on crack. His sister was on crack. His sister was on crack when she wrote this.
I like your hair
Red, thick
Sweet and long
Not like this incredibly retarded song
You're so smart
With clothes from Wal-Mart
Your brain is bigger
Than my Model 5600 Laser
I know you don't
Think I'm nice
That I have got
A heart of ice
I spend hours in front of the mirror
I check myself every hour on the hour
I get facials thrice a week
The perfect hair stylist I still seek
But I want to say
Give me a day
Or two or three
Just be with me
Just be with me…
Just be with me…
Ian sung, uncertainly. Amy was gaping at him from the window—a fact he was trying to ignore since it didn't help that he was SWEATING LIKE A PIG in this RIDICULOUS costume with NATALIE laughing her guts off.
As soon as Ian hit the last note of his demented ballad, he dropped the guitar, marched up the front door, and, in a burst of temper, rang the doorbell repeatedly for five times.
He had just been humiliated in front of his dear sister and Dan, and probably the whole universe judging by Natalie's camera crew hiding under hilariously inadequate bushes, and he wasn't going to take no for an answer. In fact, he wasn't even going to ask for answer, at all.
Amy was already at the front door when he rang the doorbell for the seventh time.
"YOU ARE GOING ON A DATE WITH ME AND THAT IS FINAL. EXCUSE ME FOR TEN MINUTES WHILE I GO GET READY." Ian said to Amy, spun on his heel and walked away to the car.
A resounding thud was heard as he tackled Natalie to the ground.
"My dress!"
"Boo-hoo."
Amy closed the door, trying hard not to laugh. The smile she had been squishing down erupted.
Ian liked her. Ian liked her. Ian liked her.
Amy had never felt so giddy in her entire life.
Sure, Ian had kind of looked silly throughout the whole ordeal, what with his getup and the background tambourine players and all that. Amy was also quite sure that Ian had been unaware that while he had been singing his heart out, there had been a powerpoint presentation behind him, playing slides of pictures of farm animals. Amy didn't really get that.
But what Amy liked about it was that Ian didn't look dangerous, deceiving or psychotically evil at all. He didn't look like their enemy. He just looked like an earnest, sincere, fashionably challenged person who was telling a girl just how much he liked her. He had looked so normal.
Her whole heart felt like it was going to burst out of her chest, and all Amy could do was grin crazily at the carpet for a few seconds.
Then she did the most logical thing that she could possibly think of at the moment.
She began dancing. In the middle of the hallway. Beside the coat-rack.
Not a very logical thing to do, but hey, there was that at the moment thing there.
Amy was just in the middle of busting an Egyptian move when a voice spoke up from the top of the stairs.
"Aw, c'mon Amy. The happy Egyptian dance? For that guy?"
Amy stopped mid dorky-dance move. Dan was staring at her accusingly from the top of the stairs.
"You're seriously not going to fall for this again, are you?" Dan asked, descending a few steps. "He's already fooled you once, and that's one time too many. Amy!"
"Dan, every one deserves a second chance," Amy said gently. She knew how mad Dan was at Ian.
"Did you get brainwashed, or something? Was that an after-effect of that song? Who wrote those lyrics, anyway? Ian left us in a cave to die, Amy." Dan rolled his eyes in typical Dan-fashion.
Amy felt as if her brother had stabbed her. Not so much because Dan looked disappointed (but that was a large part of it), but because of the truth in his words.
"You're right." Amy said loudly, startling both Dan and herself. Feeling her confidence build up, Amy continued. "Ian already fooled me once, he might just do it again. Who knows? He might-he might just lead me on, make me think that he l-likes me. This might all just be a scheme, the whole serenading thing might be fake."
Amy felt like someone was punching her in the gut with each possibility she enlisted, because each one seemed more likely than the last, each one seemed more probable than just supposing that Ian liked her. Simple as that. It was so easy to believe that Ian was just fooling with her.
But there was something about the way that Ian had looked at her when he was singing, something about the way that he stared at her that made her think that maybe...
Maybe as crazy as it sounded, as mad as it would make Dan, and as vulnerable as Amy was making herself, it would all be worth it in the end.
Amy would put herself out there again.
The things I do for Ian...
Said Kabra returned, ten minutes later, wearing a pair of designer jeans and an expensive grey shirt, visibly trying to regain some portion of aforementioned Kabra dignity.
The two shared an awkward moment on the porch when they both tried not to look at each other, failed, and met each other's eyes.
Ian started walking north, and Amy, after a beat, followed.
To Amy, it felt like an eternity. They were walking so close, his hand would brush hers and electricity would snap.
They stopped outside what looked like a thrift shop. Ian looked slightly revolted.
"I'm sorry, Amy, but we'll have to make do. Would you like anything?" The wind chime made a sound as he pushed open the door.
Amy nodded. Her throat was parched. With what? Nervousness? Anticipation?
...Or maybe dehydration, moron.
"Water, please."
Ian nodded. He picked his way gracefully towards the cashier, who trailed her eyes up and down his body and let out a wink.
Ian smiled a tolerant smile. "One bottle of water and one...er…what in heaven is that…coke?"
Amy couldn't stop herself. "You've never heard of coke?"
Ian blinked. "I have, actually, but I've never tasted one. I prefer champagne or imported rootbeer." Or, uh, alcohol in large amounts. He nodded his thanks to the woman, expertly brought out a folded bill, and they walked away.
They were silent for a while. Ian led Amy into what looked like a deserted playground.
Amy took a sip of her water. She licked her lips nervously. She didn't know how to begin.
"Um—Ian, what you said in that song…"
Ian let out a small groan. "I don't want to talk about it."
There was a small silence.
"Okay, I do. I'm sorry about the song, Amy. Natalie wrote it. If I had known she had about as much song-writing prowess as a cabbage, I would never have asked for her help. They're like pickles, indeed. I would have compared your eyes to emeralds." Ian rolled his eyes. If that video ever reach Youtube...
Amy blushed. She forced herself not to stutter. "It was brave. I liked it. Well, not the song because the song was just...well, I liked y..I liked how you performed."
Ian's head shot up. "Well, that changes things."
Amy felt herself heat up yet again.
"Amy, I—"
"I saw you."
Ian frowned. "Saw me what?"
Amy hesitated. "I saw you—with that girl. The one with blonde hair."
Ian paused. "Oh." Was what he had to say.
"Do you really like me?" Amy asked, in what she hoped was a hard voice. Ian's boyish smell was distracting her.
"Y-Yes." Ian said, stuttering for the first time at her abruptness. He recovered himself. "Really and truly."
"Then who was that girl?"
Ian looked slightly sheepish. "If you must know. I was trying to get you jealous."
It was Amy's turn to say 'oh'.
Ian had prepared a whole speech of proof of l'amour, but it seemed to disappear like mothballs. He simply stared at Amy. That was all he could do, right now.
They were quiet once again.
"Your brother says you like the color green," Ian muttered, bringing out a box from his pocket. The conversation had to go somewhere. "I had to wait five hours for the shop to open, but I hope you like it."
He brought out a beautiful bracelet, silver interlocked chains with green emerald pendants.
He held out the bracelet. Amy was too shocked to offer her hand.
"I-It's okay, if you don't like it. I understand." Ian stuttered over his words, mentally hitting himself.
"Are you crazy?" Amy said softly. She held out her hand and Ian clasped it on. "This is beautiful."
A little hesitantly, Amy leaned against Ian and kissed him on the cheek.
"Now I have a question. Do you like me?" Ian asked, curiously, fearing the worst, but still expecting the best. Yes, he was bigheaded. Get over it.
Amy bit her lip slightly. She took a very long time to answer.
"More than I should."
Ian had never been happier in his entire life, not even the time back when he was five and he had expertly put traps around their garden so that Natalie would fall in a muddy hole after stealing his stick of imported pocky.
His hands wrapped around her waist, expertly holding her in exactly the right position. He leaned in and—
Croak.
Ian swore.
Croak.
Amy laughed. The frog jumped from place to place, peering at Ian and Amy.
"Just like in the fairytales. You're my frog," She said cheerfully to Ian, who looked sort of offended.
"I do hope I'm better looking than a mere frog." Ian muttered.
"Yes, you are." Amy looked down, flushing. Ian pushed her chin up with his finger. He was smirking.
"…But if being a frog means that I get to have you kiss me…well, let's just say I'm not exactly against it."
Amy was about to say something, but Ian pushed himself forward and pressed his lips against hers. Amy let out a little gasp and she felt Ian's tongue tasting the inside of her mouth.
Ian broke apart for half-a-second, and Amy stared at him with wide eyes. He smirked down at her, and a single thought was running in Amy's mind.
No one can say no to Ian Kabra.
Croak. Haha.

---

Barely two hours after Ian and Amy's date, on live National television:
IAN KABRA: YOUTUBE SENSATION—3 MILLION HITS IN THE FIRST FIVE MINUTES. THE ATTACK OF THE DEMENTED RICH GUY IN CHICKEN COSTUME
"Oh, this is rich." Natalie laughed. "Mother! Father! You have to see this."
As an after-thought, she added. "And once you do, Ian's share of the estate will be mine. Mine, I tell you! MINE! Oh, the things I do for money. Mwahaha—"
A shadow fell over Natalie and she slowly looked up to see Ian standing above her, holding a frying pan and looking very murderous.
"Hello, sister."

Ian's Birthday

Ian was having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. Everywhere he went just gave him another reason to be totally depressed. Not Emo level depressed… but depressed. It was his birthday. Usually, people were very jolly or happy on their birthdays. But that was not the case for Ian today. Let us start from the beginning.
"Aaaah!" Ian cried as he landed hard on the floor.

A Drama of Our Time

It happened when youth and optimism were my boon companions.
     The breezes of spring came wafting down Matienzo street in Las Cañitas around 11:00 o'clock on a Thursday, the only day of the week that my teaching schedule left me free. I taught Language and Literature in more than one high school, I was twenty-seven and full of enthusiasm for books and imagination.
     I was sitting on the balcony drinking maté and rereading, after a lapse of fifteen years, the enchanting adventures of King Solomon's Mines. (I noted sadly that when I was a boy I had enjoyed them much more.)

What goes around comes around

One day a man saw an old lady, stranded on the side of the road, but even in the dim light of day, he could see she needed help. So he pulled up in front of her Mercedes and got out. His Pontiac was still sputtering when he approached her.

Giving up wine – a funny short story

I was walking down the street when I was accosted by a particularly dirty and shabby-looking homeless woman who asked me for a couple of 
dollars for dinner.I took out my wallet, got out ten dollars and asked, “If I give you this money, will you buy wine with it instead of dinner?”
 “No, I had to stop drinking years ago,” the homeless woman told me.

“Will you use it to go shopping instead of buying food?” I asked.
 “No, I don’t waste time shopping,” the homeless woman said. “I need to

 spend all my time trying to stay alive.”

“Will you spend this on a beauty salon instead of food?” I asked.
 “Are you NUTS!!” replied the homeless woman. “I haven’t had my hair 
done in 20 years!”

Summer Time Is Coming

My mom only had one eye

My mom only had one eye. I hated her… She was such an embarrassment. She cooked for students and teachers to support the family.
There was this one day during elementary school where my mom came to say hello to me. I was so embarrassed.

Live and Work

Father was a hardworking man who delivered bread as a living to support his wife and three children. He spent all his evenings after work attending classes, hoping to improve himself so that he could one day find a better paying job. Except for Sundays, Father hardly ate a meal together with his family. He worked and studied very hard because he wanted to provide his family with the best money could buy.

Things change, keep up your faith!

For most people, graduation is an exciting day – the culmination of years of hard work. My graduation day… was not.
I remember that weekend two years ago. Family and friends had flown in from across the country to watch our class walk across that stage. But like everyone else in my graduating class, I had watched the economy turn from bad to worse my seni

DON’T HOPE,…DECIDE!

 
While waiting to pick up a friend at the airport in Portland, Oregon, I had one of those life-changing experiences that you hear other people talk about — the kind that sneaks up on you unexpectedly. This one occurred a mere two feet away from me.
Straining to locate my friend among the passengers deplaning through the jet way, I noticed a man coming toward me carrying two light bags. He stopped right next to me to greet his family.

Face difficulties positively

This parable is told of a farmer who owned an old mule. The mule fell into the farmer’s well. The farmer heard the mule praying or whatever mules do when they fall into wells. After carefully assessing the situation, the farmer sympathized with the mule, but decided that neither the mule nor the well was worth the trouble of saving. Instead, he called his neighbors together, told them what had happened, and enlisted them to help haul dirt to bury the old mule in the well and put him out of his misery.