A Gift With Huge Returns_Same Bait, Same Fish_The Twinkle in his Eyes_Once an Enemy, Now a Prince
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A Gift With Huge Returns
A Gift with Huge Returns by: Cheryl GinningsHwww.onedoor.cce was hiding. . .There he was. He appeared to be hiding behind the store as he peeked around the corner. I did not notice him at first. He was so shabby-looking. Was he watching for something or someone? After glancing around the side of the building, he would squat down and sit on the concrete parking lot.He sat quietly beside the dumpster from the store. The lid was open and propped up with a stick or something. I had never seen anyone do that. Maybe that was a shelter for him.A big black plastic bag seemed full of lots of stuff. I wondered if he ...
Same Bait, Same Fish
Same Bait, Same Fish. By Susan Grant-Suttie belgone2001@gmail.com Word Count: 2,908Bartel came over to my desk at work. “What are you doing Friday night?” Although he was the breath of fresh air in the stale office, it was not the rescue I wanted. I looked at him, giving him the second look through a different set of eyes. He had dark haired, long eyelashes, shorter than myself, Harry Potter style glasses, and he looked very much like an accountant in his university-style sweater and jeans with his stiff white shirt. Although mildly good looking, that was not enough for me. Or, maybe it wa...
The Twinkle in his Eyes
"Tony's," as we kids called it, was an old-fashioned Candy Store in a three-story building in Queens, New York. It was sandwiched between the deli and the fruit store on a heavily traveled street in the neighborhood I grew up in. Even then, as a schoolgirl, the building seemed old. It was probably built at the turn of the 19th into the 20th century. It was constructed of decorative red brick and had beautiful detail with stone cornices and ornately trimmed windows. The storefront itself had large glass windows and an old wooden door. "Confectionary" had long before been hand-painted in fancy w...
Once an Enemy, Now a Prince
To Lupita Smith the smell of a library was heaven. To Sir Danielle Longbow it was a sharp reminder that she’d spent most of her life illiterate. It was also a reminder that she sneezed in dusty places. “Welcome to my humble commode,” said Carl Northman brightly, arms spread with a book in one. “No, wait. Wrong word.” He flipped the book open again. “Abode. My humble abode.” He frowned. “You don’t live here, this is the library,” Lupita said. Shrugging with the irreverence of a teen and the posture of a thirty-year-old, he sighed. “It feels like it recently. I m...