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    Late Autumn‚ 1942 Today is one of those unusually quiet evenings‚ and sometimes‚ it’s so quiet it becomes frightening. It reminds me of a storm. At first‚ it sneaks up on you quietly‚ then the storm intensifies‚ rushing through cities‚ towns‚ or whatever is in its path‚ leaving behind devastation and desolation. That sense of desolation is what I fear the most‚ and that’s what it feels like now. There have been no loud roars of planes overhead or any explosions for over a month. But I don’t mind

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    “YES!!!” Jack yelled throwing his hands in the air. “Touchdown.” He slapped his baby brother Michael on the back .Michael just rolled his eyes and grabbed a handful of popcorn from the bowl on the table. “Whatever Jacky‚ we still have some time left. “ Jack laughed and took a swig of his beer. “Patriots are winning 35 to 17 Mikey Boy. You guys should just throw in the towel already.” Michael shrugged off his brother’s statement and glued his eyes back to the tv. As the commercials played‚Jack looked

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    "For Justice!" Superman lets out a warcry‚ immediately throwing himself at his armoured archnemesis‚ sending them both into the mountain behind the ruined castle with a loud crash. I guess... that was our cue‚ I assume‚ selecting my target amongst the Young Justice clones. Also‚ I’m guessing that the JL is taking down Luthor’s gang‚ leaving the responsibiliy of handling ’Project Solar Dawn’ to us. We should know ways to beat us‚ right? Out of us all‚ I guess that fighting ourselves is the best option

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    Welcome Home‚ Soldier by PaulieG© I was finally going home. After a year in Iraq‚ I was going home to my beautiful wife. Little did I know that not only had the war changed me‚ but my home life would change too.  Genneveve‚ or Gennie as everyone called her is 11 years younger than me. At 38‚ I marveled at the fact that she still didn’t look a day over 25. Standing 5-7 with coal black hair contrasting with her nearly translucent smooth white skin‚ the contrasts didn’t stop there. Every bit

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    niche blogging‚ I used to keep my storytelling skills confined to the ’creative writing’ label and I used nothing but cold‚ objective‚ descriptive words in my first articles. The mere thought of writing for a niche gave me shivers. It made me anxious. I didn’t like that ice-cold sensation writing descriptive paragraphs gave me. The storyteller in me itched to take the lead and turn that boring piece of copy into joyful writing that would make my readers smile‚ laugh‚ frown and cry. You know‚ move

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    Opening the door slightly‚ I was greeted with a thick wall of darkness. Peering out into the inky blackness of the passageway‚ I tried to clam myself down to go down to the kitchen to grab some candles to light up the house. I finally felt ready to go down ‚ as if I was fighting a war with the darkness. As I opened the door‚ the door seemed to come alive‚ making a creak sound‚ warning me not to go out of this room. Biting my lip‚ I groped around the black darkness. I quickly made my way towards the

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    Tom had always loved plants. He loved the way they would begin their lives as tiny seeds buried in their cosy little nests‚ and then‚ with all the essential ingredients a sprinkle of water‚ a cup of sunlight and a dash of time they would blossom into sharp Italian ballet dancers‚ their lively radiance beating against the cream-white window pane. Toms mother would grow these plants by the dozen‚ and‚ once a month‚ after harvest week‚ she would take all the plants away‚ replacing them with seemingly

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    Date Night Disaster It was date night at the Holmes/Watson house the 2 husbands were gearing up to head out to Peddletons with Myc and Greg. The men dressed in nice fitted suits. Sherlock wearing a tight white shirt with its top two buttons undone to show off his sexy collar bone. Black tailored pants that hugged him in all the right places and shiny black dress shoes that just made him look even more delicious. John wore something similar to his husband but he adorned a bow tie with his attire

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    “Are we there yet?” “No.” “Now are we there?” “Do you want me to turn this car around?!” Brothers are annoying. I’m fairly certain my mother agrees‚ based on the way she’s sighing with exasperation. I swear‚ we’ve been in this car for eternity. Supposedly‚ grandma’s house is only 45 minutes away‚ but it seems like we’ve been in the car for years! Grandma lives near a lake halfway between Lawrence and Kansas City‚ where I live. For one last celebration before school starts back up again‚ my family

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    Summer was dead‚ but autumn had not yet been born when the ibis came to the bleeding tree. It’s strange that all this is so clear to me‚ now that time has had its way. But sometimes (like right now) I sit in the cool green parlor‚ and I remember Doodle. Doodle was about the craziest brother a boy ever had. Doodle was born when I was seven and was‚ from the start‚ a disappointment. He seemed all head‚ with a tiny body that was red and shriveled like an old man’s. Everybody thought he was going to

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