Monthly Archives August 2009

18 – Moving

Once upon a time, a man was busy moving. He worked hard all week, hauling big heavy boxes, piles of wood and woodworking tools, and even an anvil. While he was moving, exhausted and dusty, he lost track of time and didn’t realize that a very important deadline was approaching fast. After one particularly long day of moving heavy equipment and sorting through a very dusty, dirty workshop, he suddenly realized that his deadline was only half an hour away and he had not written the story he had promised to write before the deadline was up. Even worse, he was in his new house, which didn’t even have an Internet connection yet! How would he upload his story? The old house still had an Internet connection, but it was all the way across town, there was only half an hour left, and he was so tired he was already in bed. Everything seemed lost.

Then, as if by magic, a wondrous and amazing thing happened. But it didn’t happen to him, sadly. He had to drive across town after all.


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Moving by Kenneth Lett is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License.

17 -Legacy

The little white box sat on the coffee table, where Margaret had left it days before. I watched it change. Subtle flows and waves of pastel color shifted across its faces, at first so faint that they could be mistaken for shadows, only gradually becoming brilliant primary colors. The box made me uncomfortable.

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16 – Death Among Friends

The nurse that tended to me was pretty, in a young and stupid sort of way. An epitome of youthful vigor and vapidity. Her smile was broad and genuine, and showed white teeth that might have been props in an ad for toothpaste. I disliked her instantly, though this may say more of my state of mind than of any fault she possessed. I was looking despondently down at my bandaged wrist when she chose to insert her cheerful good nature painfully into my well of sorrows.

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15 – Eric

It was on a long dusty desert road that Eric got his name. I was driving, enjoying the feel of tires riding lightly, and a little too fast, over the loose gravel and sand when Linda asked me, “So, what is its name?”.

“Eric,” I said, loud enough to carry over the road and engine noise. It came to me the moment she asked, as if from Eric himself. We drove up into the hills in that blue Jeep Cherokee, now christened Eric, to experiment with the delicacies of four-wheel drive and vehicular personalities.

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