Ok, I've been told my short story is TOO short..so, I've gotta tie in something to make it longer-Here is the Intro of a woman in to the story...Check it out..and let me know:) I'm still not able to get internet yet-so,I'm in a cafe temp. Miss you all.....

Wearing a sun dress, she walked down the stairs toward Bethesda. The folds of white and yellow cascading around her hips and legs like a gentle tide dancing along the sand bank. A look of bewilderment on her face, she almost missed the last step, but caught herself gracefully. Carter smiled to himself. He’d never seen her before. ‘She must be a tourist.’ he thought. Just like many tourists, she pulled out a camera and began to snap shots.
She walked all around the fountain. Fixated for some time on the detail in stone, she then turned sideways. Her eyebrows raised when she saw a man (Carter) leaned back against a tree. His pen in hand, scribbling. ‘Odd,’ she thought. He’s not even looking at the page. He was looking in the direction of some canoe’s on the river. She took a picture of him, imagining how it would look in Black and White. The man looked up at her. ‘Busted,’ she thought as her face turned several shades of pink and red like wild rouge used in the 80’s.
He began to gather his things. Carter got up and walked over to a concession stand. He bought two bottles of water, walked over to the woman and handed her one without a word. He was entranced by her. She uttered a thank you and began to apologize when he put his finger to her lips. She backed up a little, unsure and startled. He stuck out his hand and finally spoke,” Hello, I’m Carter.” His face was flushed.

“H H Hello. My name is (insert character name).” she said in a whisper that sent chills through Carter like the first winter wind…

Another day
People come and go
Each leaving
Their mark

Observations touch
Keeping someone
Coming back
Every day

Hello today
Goodbye yesterday
Writing on and on
To be seen some way

Observers enjoy
Increasingly engaged
In reading

To be heard
Readers begin
Writing excitedly

Hello/Goodbye effect:) hehehe

Humor and Joy

Cascading letters
Form in to words
Each sentence fill
In paragraphs
I with a smile
Write voraciously
Relief overwhelms
As each letter is written
Thoughts roll
With each word
Faith guides
Each sentence
Laughter and joy
With every paragraph
Writing can releasing tensions! Sometimes, dwelling on writing negatively, can continue negative thoughts and only enhance tensions. When you begin to write positive expressions, it's like a snowball effect!
You can't stop! Page after page writing happily. Share these joys! Share the moments! Your writings could help and/or guide others to stay positive :)

I woke up late! late! late!
Gotta go !
Bumped in to the wall,
Smacked forehead on sink
Brushin' my teeth
I could have been on time.
Head throbbing.
Driving and muttering.
Car puffs and sputters
There went my tires
And still oh so tired
What's wrong with me?
Morning rush? PFFFT
I'm Takin' the day off!

This poem is about someone who is never late for work. They're like OCD with 'time'.. However, in a time like that, which is rare, the person has an option. Go to work distracted and distracting others over your morning, being frustrated and even angry, risking a blow up at work, etc. Now, I know plenty of people who could have a morning like this and you'd never know it! They are quiet individuals and either know how to compose themselves well, or really have got the whole-"leave personal at the door" rule down.

NAH! Everyone brings a little personal to work. It's inevitable and bound to happen eventually.

So, if you had a morning like this, would you go to work?

When all tears have been shed
When the last shout rings out
The final echo is heard
A shot blast; at last light of day
Words become no more
Feeling and emotion controlled
All like-minded
With a number, not a name
The very thought of
Dream, hope, love, God
Erased and forgotten
Non-existant; lack of choice
Not one smile left
No step out of line
A child's laughter tinkles
Another Bang in the night
The line grows longer
All aching for living
Like wild horses
Grazing and playing
That life gone
Free will and thought
Free speech and movement
Disappeared in a blink
Longing for what could be
No help came in uniform
No whirs of engines in the sky
No plea to "Leave no man behind"
Stripped of self dignity; angered
Each began to softly
Pass along a message
To stand together
One revolt
One impact by all
Valiant Shouts!
Victory in hearts
Shots rang out
Like bombs dropping
Automatic weapons used
Grenades splatter skin
Not a soul left
As the over takers cheered
Covered in skin and blood
They looked at the bodies
The earth around them
The Day the World Cried
Whom had remained
A mighty strike came upon them
They too, were too late
Tears turned them pale
Their bodies became frail
One by one
By the Overseer

Imagine families separated. Millions standing in constant moving lines. Stepping over bodies, bones, and blood. Their own flesh, thin, weathered, scarred , broken and bruised. Famished , so hungry they’d devour their own excrement. Like robots, they do what they are told. Until one day, they finally understand they can fight for life. They are killed. Then, the over takers are killed by the overseer.

This is not an exaggerated story. There are lands being take over. Genocide! In my poem, I’ve left it up to the reader’s interpretation in the ending. Why? The overseer could be God ridding the land of all mankind. OR, could be a dictator seeing the job he wanted, finished. Then, he kills those that did the killing, so he can start anew. Again, Left to imagination.

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