Never Again. Yours, Jennifer Stik_The Song of the Violinist: By Mary Palladino_"Empire Apple&qu
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Never Again. Yours, Jennifer Stik
"No," Jennifer Stik said the moment she laid eyes on it. "No, no, no."The envelope was small and white, with dainty little birds decorating the edges. It was addressed to Jennafer Style, from 'The Meeting RHS Corporation.'Jennifer knew exactly what it was. And she'd been trying for 10 years to avoid it."Of course they spelled my name wrong. OF COURSE!!" Jennifer yelled, throwing her hands up into the air in frustration. Her fiancé, Dellard Buchots, pokwww.onedoor.cced his head into the kitchen."Honey, are you okay?" He asked, running his fingers through his wispy blond hair. "Is something wrong with the mai...
The Song of the Violinist: By Mary Palladino
“The snow falls, the wind howls, and the moon rises to console the stars.”Few could see the cold imagery of the mind. Many are blind; they ignore the inside storm. They only look at what they want to see- the outside: Vibrant colors and the melodies that the Violinist creates.In a sleepy little village some time ago, in an old cottage on the hill, there lived a man. Every soul in the village knew of this man. He would go into the less sleepy parts of town and play his violin. His playing was so entrancing that the ears that heard his song would stop what they were doing, and get lost in the so...
"Empire Apple"
Nostalgia. Jumping on my trampoline in my backyard left me feeling nostalgic. I felt like a child again. No worries. Just jumping and laughing to myself. It sounds sad and even lonely but it really wasn't for the first time in a long time, I felt comfortable being by myself.Moving is a scary thing to do, especially when you have nobody to comfort you physically. Sure, I have my parents but that's it. My brothers are already gone and moved out. I don't have someone who will be there with me and who understands the pain of being the new kid. My friends tell me that I'll be fine but what does th...
Me and those days
I'm talking about a memory from the history of my life that is still on the one hand obscure and on the other meaningful to me after 40 years later.Those days began with my father's voice, who woke up earlier every morning and made breakfast for everyone, and ended with his voice arguing with my mother.We went to class with great enthusiasm,Not to study and learn science, but to see, play and talk to my classmates, and of course there were people closer to me whom I liked.It was more fun for me to be in the crowd and see the behavior and hear what my friends were saying, than it was instructiv...