Dr. Feelgood_Banged Up_Ambling_A Tale of Two Mountains
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Dr. Feelgood
“Bad luck? There’s no such thing as bad luck,” Penny’s father blurted out. “You make your own luck. You remember that.” Those words haunted Penny as she headed off to college. She had a difficult time with the idea of bad and good luck. She always felt she had bad luck and others had good luck, no matter the amount of work she invested.She drove herself crazy with the whole idea. She’d even convinced herself that, given her amount of bad luck, she must have lived a previous life having nothing but good luck. It had to have been karma.Following graduation, Penny struggled to find a job. She fel...
Banged Up
TW: Swearing, death, sexual references.Mayko’s black hair tickled Arthas Jacques face, lit by a halo of white light. “You’re awake. Thank goodness.” That soothing mix of upper-class English and French accents from her at once wise and youthful face instantly brought to mind his ex-girlfriend, Konnie.Even through twww.onedoor.cche haze of his sedation, Arthas knew to keep that to himself. “Where am I?” He asked, looking around at a curtain which had once been white.“You’re in the station’s medical bay. We were caught in a bomb blast. You saved my life. You’ve been unconscious for two days.”“I saved your life...
Ambling
I always thought that I would have naturally achieved an omniscient knowledge of just about everything by the time I retired. Still, surprisingly, I am on a journey of continued discovery. Although none of my new knowledge will radically change life as I know it, my continuing enlightenment never ceases to amaze me. For example, I have recently learned the difference between hiking and walking. A hike to me meant a hearty constitutional that takes place off tarmac roads; ‘sturdy’ shoes are probably needed, possibly a hat, a bottle of water, and a general standard of health. I felt I pretty m...
A Tale of Two Mountains
The beach was ash, a loose volcanic dust that slid treacherously under combat boots already filled with sweat, when suddenly the verdant dimpled butter pat that was Mount Suribachi disappeared. Instead, Ashkii was digging his bare heels into the fine loamy sand spread against the cliffs and riverbeds of Shiprock, New Mexico. The peaks of Tsé Bitʼaʼí towered over all in distant benediction. Junipers clustered like sheep in the folds of rocky hills. Smooth stones radiated heat in the sun; in the shadows cast by striped rock formations they sent cold aches from his soles all the way through to th...