by Guenther Langohr
Each day merged into the next, it had been weeks since he washed, and he was sure the Russian soldiers across the line could smell him in his hiding places. Actually, their odor was as bad, or worse, then his. The short days and long nights of winter were waning and the relative protection of darkness grew shorter. Now in April, day and night were equal – 12 hours of darkness and spotty rest, followed by 12 hours of continuous bombardment and life-threatening danger. Besides the artillery, machine guns, and tanks just raising your head a few centimeters to high would invite the snipers’ wrath. (more…)

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(2 votes, average: 9.50 out of 10)

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Dax was used to the obsessive organization. When he first came to stay with Mr. Cordova who lived in an old farm house with plenty of room for boarders he noticed that all of his belongings were meticulously placed in some sort of container. There was a special place, nook, or box for all of his things and Mr. Cordova had boxes and containers stacked everywhere. Mr. Cordova had boxes of all sizes and colors relegated to storing everything from food to tools. His food was stored neatly in small boxes of varying colors, some in a large white box, some stacked neatly in rows.

He kept his tools outside along with other things for tending the garden and each had its own small container which was stacked inside a large box in the yard. There were other containers outside which would eventually cause Dax serious problems. (more…)

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(1 votes, average: 8.00 out of 10)

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By Kelleys-Creations

Ever since I can remember my little red-headed brother has been hyper. Up until the age of 10 he had nine emergency room happenings. I can still see the skin peeling off of his little baby shin with his little white toddler shoes on. He had put his leg into the bathroom sink and turned on the scalding hot water. This was our first trip to the Emergency Room.

My parents used to have to tie him up on a long rope in the backyard to a tree. We would be outside with him, my mom sitting on the back porch cement step watching him and playing with him. I can remember sitting in the sandbox with him and playing. All of a sudden he’d get up to run, and just like a dog, fall down when he ran out of rope and scream his head off! You see, even though my mom was right there watching him, she was not fast enough to catch him on his wild whims to get up and run away! One of the neighborhood ladies could not stand my mother. She thought this was child abuse. Even though I was only 10-years-old or 11-years-old, I told my mom to ignore her as it was better that my little brother was safe instead of getting run over by a car on the road. (more…)

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(1 votes, average: 8.00 out of 10)

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