I CAN SEE IT NOW_The Summer Time Lie_A New Style_Should Have Listened to Static
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I CAN SEE IT NOW
I CAN SEE IT NOW“I can see it now.” She said over the phone. “There’s a fire on the next ridgetop over. It seems to be centered at John Wilson's ranch. We’ll have to hurry to get the animals out.” Sarah was always worried about the animals. As a park ranger assigned to the fire lookout tower, she took her job very seriously. She spent hours looking out over the trees through her binoculars and fortunately hadn’t seen many fires. This could be a big one if they didn’t get there fast enough. The other ranger arrived to relieve her so she could go help with the animal control. Sarah knew animals ...
The Summer Time www.onedoor.ccLie
Co-conspirators, conceivably, therefore I believe we, no, no, let me rephrase, I insist, we share any available credit. The elusive blame perhaps belongs to another a bystander or simply a victim of fate. I don’t want to take the credit for something I may have merely dreamed of after a spicy meal, and then recorded in this creative essay. Regardless, this tale, this imagined incident I expect, if it actually existed, has moved beyond the “criminal statute of limitations.” Certainly you have watched a Law and Order television show or one of its many spin offs and heard this term. A legally spe...
A New Style
The sun was scorching as Luthar set foot on dry land. Five days he had been aboard the ship, and two of them were spent vomiting. The captain had set a fast course, and the winds had been kind, but the summer waves seemed intent on rocking Luthar’s guts overboard. Even the limestone dockside seemed to sway under his weight. The only joy he could take from coming ashore was the gentle breeze that licked his face.Men rushed this way and that, with tightly packed wagons of goods ready for shipping. Customs officials checked paperwork from captains before barking their orders in some strange, hars...
Should Have Listened to Static
Baz Patha was slouched down in the co-pilot seat in the poorly lit command center of Clear Runner, a cargo transfer ship. As a Gordelian, he was already short and pudgy. Slouching just enhanced his appearance as a dark gray, noxious blob of flesh only restricted from further spread via containment within a flight suit. He was glumly reviewing the data screen that monitored the environmental status of the various containment chambers. Everything was fine. Everything except his mood. “Don’t know why you can’t just consider it,” he grumbled. His lips curled in disdain over an uneven arrangement o...