Betty’s father held her hand as they entered the park. He was very tall, and when he came on Sundays to visit her and take her out for the day, he always wore a suit. Betty was dressed in her best clothes, so she and her father didn’t look much like the others in the park. Most of the people were wearing casual clothes and tennis shoes.
Betty’s father looked down at her and said, "What would you like to do today, Betty?" He always asked her that question, and Betty almost never knew what to say.
"Would you like a bicycle to ride around the park?" Betty shook her head. "What about a big fluffy stuffed bear like that one over there?" her father asked, pointing at a vending booth in the middle of the park. Betty shook her head again. She wasn’t sure if her father remembered, but he had given her both a bicycle and a stuffed bear on previous visits. She glanced around looking for something new and interesting to do. As she scanned the park, a small boy caught her eye. He was sitting quietly on a park bench with a sad expression on his face. He wore some very old clothes, and he sat very still except for his frequent glances at a jovial salesman who was carrying a large bunch of colorful balloons.
What does he find so incredibly attractive about those balloons? Betty wondered. She decided she would find out for herself. "Daddy, if it’s all right with you, I would like a big red balloon."
"Of course, Betty, darling. You may have anything you want." Pulling a few dollar bills out of his pocket, her father walked over to the salesman and purchased the biggest reddest balloon in the bunch. "Here you go, Betty, is this the one you wanted?"
"Yes, thank you, Daddy." Betty smiled happily at her new possession, and her father smiled at her happiness.
"Would you like to go watch the ducks in the pond now, Betty?" he asked.
Betty nodded eagerly, and the two walked hand in hand over in the direction of the pond. As they walked, Betty glanced backward and noticed the young boy she had seen earlier following them, looking longingly in the air just above her head. Glancing up, she realized that it was her balloon that attracted his wishful gaze. Suddenly the balloon didn’t seem very exciting anymore. Betty looked sympathetically at the boy and their eyes met. Betty realized that this boy, who had so much less than she did, had a much greater desire for the balloon than she did. Suddenly, an idea came to her.
"Daddy," she began slowly, then suddenly continued. "could you buy me an ice cream cone over there?"
"Certainly, darling. What flavor would you like?"
"Oh, it doesn’t matter," replied Betty nonchalantly.
Her father looked a bit surprised. "All right, then, I’ll get you strawberry."
"Thank you, Daddy. I’ll wait here."
Betty’s father strolled over to the ice cream stand and pulled some more bills out of his pocket. Betty quickly ran over to the boy and held out her balloon. "Do you want this?" she asked sweetly.
The boy beamed at her. "Do I want it? Oh, yes please!" Barely able to believe his great fortune, he grabbed and, calling a quick thanks over his shoulder, ran across the park in the direction they had come.
"Betty, where is your new balloon?"
Betty turned around quickly to find her father standing there with her ice cream cone.
"Oh—I—I," her voiced trailed off as she frantically searched her brain for a good excuse.
"Well?"
Betty looked at the sky. "I think it went where all good balloons want to go."
Her father laughed merrily, and handed her her ice cream. "Don’t worry, darling, I’ll buy you a new one," he said.
"Oh, I don’t need it," Betty replied. She licked her ice cream contentedly and turned just in time to see the small boy skip joyfully out of the park with his treasure. Turning again, Betty held her hand up to her father, and together they walked slowly to the pond.
Writing Assignment by Aaron
Monday, May 09, 2005
Thursday, April 28, 2005
A Chilly Run
Josiah raced down the empty street from his home. He had overslept his alarm, and now he would be late for school. Unfortunately, today was one of the worst days of the school year for him to miss. It was the first day of midterm exams, and now he had missed the bus and would be late.
The fresh snow amplified Josiah’s footsteps greatly, and the monotonous crunch, crunch, crunch began to annoy him. Nevertheless, he kept running as fast as he could without falling on the icy sidewalk. The snow was coming down faster now, and the drifts were two feet tall in some places. Other than an occasional plow or truck, the street was deserted.
Josiah was a tall boy for his age: he was twelve but was already about five feet three inches. His height was a great aid to him in the ever deepening snow as he ran the ten blocks from his house to the school. Unfortunately, his height did not keep his shoes from filling with snow, nor did it help guard against the frigid winds that swept the snow in his face. Only the knowledge that there were exams today kept him going in the vicious storm.
When he reached the third block, Josiah paused for breath. He pulled his soft, thick scarf high over his nose and looked down the street. He could barely see a hundred feet in front of him. Glancing at his watch, he found that the time was now 8:50; the tests were scheduled to begin in only ten minutes. With that in mind, he started down the street with a renewed vigor.
At the fifth block Josiah paused again. The storm was beginning to let up, and he could now see almost all the way to the school. A few scattered sun rays peeked through the thick clouds, only to disappear again a minute later. The wind had almost stopped, and now the snow was coming down more softly; it still came thickly, but it was not swirling around as much. Josiah’s watch now read 8:54.
As Josiah crossed the street to the sixth block, the area changed from a residential to commercial area. The large colorful canopies that jutted out from most of the shops created a kind of sheltered pathway, which Josiah took readily. He raced along and came to the next block in a very short time. The conditions were the same on the seventh block, and the eighth....by the time Josiah reached the ninth block his clock read 8:57.
By now Josiah was getting tired. He found himself yearning for the warmth of the classroom—a yearning he would not have anticipated in most conditions. He stopped to rest one last time before the final leg of his grueling run. He glanced at a thermometer that was attached to a window on a nearby shop, and the dial pointed to 13 degrees. He shivered and huddled against the wall.
When Josiah looked at his watch again, it read 8:59. He now had only one minute to run across to the school, take off his winter clothes, and get to his classroom. He began to race across the street, but it had apparently not been recently plowed, and the drifts in the road had reached heights of three feet in many places. Josiah trudged through the snow as best he could. His legs were freezing from the vast amounts of snow that were crowding around them, and they were getting tired of pushing their way slowly through the drifts.
"I can do it, just one more minute..." Josiah kept telling himself. But by the time he reached the other side, it was three minutes past nine. "Better late than never," Josiah thought, and he trudged as quickly as he could through the thick snow to the front door of the school.
At last he had made it. He was only three minutes late, and he had run ten blocks in a blizzard. The teachers would understand, or at least the principal would. He was a very considerate man. Josiah rushed up to the door to go into the school, but just as he got to it he gave a cry of anguish mixed with a tinge of relief and a bit of despair. On the inside of the locked door someone had taped a small white sign that read the following: "School closed for blizzard; Classes will resume Tuesday, the twenty-first."
The fresh snow amplified Josiah’s footsteps greatly, and the monotonous crunch, crunch, crunch began to annoy him. Nevertheless, he kept running as fast as he could without falling on the icy sidewalk. The snow was coming down faster now, and the drifts were two feet tall in some places. Other than an occasional plow or truck, the street was deserted.
Josiah was a tall boy for his age: he was twelve but was already about five feet three inches. His height was a great aid to him in the ever deepening snow as he ran the ten blocks from his house to the school. Unfortunately, his height did not keep his shoes from filling with snow, nor did it help guard against the frigid winds that swept the snow in his face. Only the knowledge that there were exams today kept him going in the vicious storm.
When he reached the third block, Josiah paused for breath. He pulled his soft, thick scarf high over his nose and looked down the street. He could barely see a hundred feet in front of him. Glancing at his watch, he found that the time was now 8:50; the tests were scheduled to begin in only ten minutes. With that in mind, he started down the street with a renewed vigor.
At the fifth block Josiah paused again. The storm was beginning to let up, and he could now see almost all the way to the school. A few scattered sun rays peeked through the thick clouds, only to disappear again a minute later. The wind had almost stopped, and now the snow was coming down more softly; it still came thickly, but it was not swirling around as much. Josiah’s watch now read 8:54.
As Josiah crossed the street to the sixth block, the area changed from a residential to commercial area. The large colorful canopies that jutted out from most of the shops created a kind of sheltered pathway, which Josiah took readily. He raced along and came to the next block in a very short time. The conditions were the same on the seventh block, and the eighth....by the time Josiah reached the ninth block his clock read 8:57.
By now Josiah was getting tired. He found himself yearning for the warmth of the classroom—a yearning he would not have anticipated in most conditions. He stopped to rest one last time before the final leg of his grueling run. He glanced at a thermometer that was attached to a window on a nearby shop, and the dial pointed to 13 degrees. He shivered and huddled against the wall.
When Josiah looked at his watch again, it read 8:59. He now had only one minute to run across to the school, take off his winter clothes, and get to his classroom. He began to race across the street, but it had apparently not been recently plowed, and the drifts in the road had reached heights of three feet in many places. Josiah trudged through the snow as best he could. His legs were freezing from the vast amounts of snow that were crowding around them, and they were getting tired of pushing their way slowly through the drifts.
"I can do it, just one more minute..." Josiah kept telling himself. But by the time he reached the other side, it was three minutes past nine. "Better late than never," Josiah thought, and he trudged as quickly as he could through the thick snow to the front door of the school.
At last he had made it. He was only three minutes late, and he had run ten blocks in a blizzard. The teachers would understand, or at least the principal would. He was a very considerate man. Josiah rushed up to the door to go into the school, but just as he got to it he gave a cry of anguish mixed with a tinge of relief and a bit of despair. On the inside of the locked door someone had taped a small white sign that read the following: "School closed for blizzard; Classes will resume Tuesday, the twenty-first."
Sunday, April 10, 2005
The Duo
There was danger lurking in the air. An experienced saboteur crept through an alley towards an oil refinery. He had three pounds of TNT and a small pistol on him. A shadowy figure crept up behind him. Thump! The saboteur was knocked out cold with by a deadly blow from a bone breaker. The shadowy figure stepped into the light. He was a tall man in his thirties with a trench coat and a black hat pulled low over his eyes.
"Psst!" came a voice from the side. "Careful, don't dent that bone breaker! I had to save up to buy it since you broke the last one!" A man stepped into the light. He was much like the first man, except he was a little younger looking and had a thin moustache that curled at the end. The two men were spies – the younger from France and the other from America – who had worked in different intelligence agencies. Their names were Pierre and Dan. Each had worked his way until he was the top agent in his organization. They had both attended a top-secret conference between the US and France. The building they were in was blown up by saboteurs. The only survivors, they vowed to put an end to saboteurs and other threats to their two countries. They started working together without assistance under cover.
"That's the fifth saboteur we have caught around here!" exclaimed Pierre.
"You're right," said Dan. "Something very fishy is going on here."
Pierre walked over to the man lying on the ground and felt his pulse. "He's still alive," he said. Then he noticed some papers in the man's jacket. He picked them up and examined them laboriously. "Sacre bleu!" exclaimed Pierre. "This saboteur was going to blow up the refinery! He was going to blow up a secret conference between our agents!"
Dan turned pale. "There usually are more than a few small saboteurs to blow something like that! We had better hurry."
The two men just started to run down the alley when they sopped in their tracks. Blocking their way were about ten agents. Russian agents. The two acted swifter then you would think. Pierre grabbed his gun with lightning speed, took cover behind a trash can, and started firing. Dan headed the other way to clear an escape route. Three more agents stepped in front of him, blocking his path. Dan didn't stop. He ran into them – fists flying – and broke through. He jumped into a taxi cab. He had to stop the conference building from blowing up.
Meanwhile, Pierre was in a fix, even though four of his enemies were wounded. The agents were closing in and some had started firing back. All of a sudden, Pierre had an idea. He grabbed the TNT off the unconscious man, lit the fuse, and threw it at the agents. As fast as he could, he ran in the direction Dan had gone. There was still one agent there that Dan had not knocked out. Pierre didn't even see the thug blocking his way he was running so fast. He knocked the man over like a six-foot bowling pin and jumped behind a car.
There was a huge blast, but not from the alley. A lump came into Pierre's throat as he realized the explosion had come from the refinery. The next blast went off in the alley, leaving no Russian agents alive. Just then a taxi drove up and Dan got out. Pierre couldn't believe it.
"I—I though you were dead!" he exclaimed.
"No," replied Dan, and smiled. "None of ours are killed."
After a moment of dazed silence, Pierre yawned. "What a day! A little boring, don't you think?
"Oh yes, quite!" said Dan. "I think I have a headache. Let's go catch some sleep."
-- Ryan
"Psst!" came a voice from the side. "Careful, don't dent that bone breaker! I had to save up to buy it since you broke the last one!" A man stepped into the light. He was much like the first man, except he was a little younger looking and had a thin moustache that curled at the end. The two men were spies – the younger from France and the other from America – who had worked in different intelligence agencies. Their names were Pierre and Dan. Each had worked his way until he was the top agent in his organization. They had both attended a top-secret conference between the US and France. The building they were in was blown up by saboteurs. The only survivors, they vowed to put an end to saboteurs and other threats to their two countries. They started working together without assistance under cover.
"That's the fifth saboteur we have caught around here!" exclaimed Pierre.
"You're right," said Dan. "Something very fishy is going on here."
Pierre walked over to the man lying on the ground and felt his pulse. "He's still alive," he said. Then he noticed some papers in the man's jacket. He picked them up and examined them laboriously. "Sacre bleu!" exclaimed Pierre. "This saboteur was going to blow up the refinery! He was going to blow up a secret conference between our agents!"
Dan turned pale. "There usually are more than a few small saboteurs to blow something like that! We had better hurry."
The two men just started to run down the alley when they sopped in their tracks. Blocking their way were about ten agents. Russian agents. The two acted swifter then you would think. Pierre grabbed his gun with lightning speed, took cover behind a trash can, and started firing. Dan headed the other way to clear an escape route. Three more agents stepped in front of him, blocking his path. Dan didn't stop. He ran into them – fists flying – and broke through. He jumped into a taxi cab. He had to stop the conference building from blowing up.
Meanwhile, Pierre was in a fix, even though four of his enemies were wounded. The agents were closing in and some had started firing back. All of a sudden, Pierre had an idea. He grabbed the TNT off the unconscious man, lit the fuse, and threw it at the agents. As fast as he could, he ran in the direction Dan had gone. There was still one agent there that Dan had not knocked out. Pierre didn't even see the thug blocking his way he was running so fast. He knocked the man over like a six-foot bowling pin and jumped behind a car.
There was a huge blast, but not from the alley. A lump came into Pierre's throat as he realized the explosion had come from the refinery. The next blast went off in the alley, leaving no Russian agents alive. Just then a taxi drove up and Dan got out. Pierre couldn't believe it.
"I—I though you were dead!" he exclaimed.
"No," replied Dan, and smiled. "None of ours are killed."
After a moment of dazed silence, Pierre yawned. "What a day! A little boring, don't you think?
"Oh yes, quite!" said Dan. "I think I have a headache. Let's go catch some sleep."
-- Ryan
Sorry about the wait....
Don't worry! Somethings comin' soon! I have a story and I just need to get it up to my PC.
AHS
AHS
Saturday, March 26, 2005
Input
How do you like our blog? We would like some audience input to gauge your opinions (as well as who you are!).
Thank you!
The VPW staff
Thank you!
The VPW staff
What Happened to the World
One night, while billions of people all over the world were sleeping (and billions of others where not), there was suddenly a loud noise like thunder, a big flash like lightning, and a great shaking like an earthquake, and everything went black. No one could see anything at all, whether they where in Croatia, China, Chile, Canada, or any other place in the whole world.
It was scary, and yet exciting, and nobody knew what happened. The first thing most people did, sensibly enough, was turn their lights or light a fire. Those who lived where it was evening or early morning where lucky; they're lights where already on! I was in bed when it happened, and the first thing I did was grab a flashlight and go out side to see what was happening.
Nothing looked very different; there were trees all around, my house was in the same place it always had been, and there were millions of stars. But suddenly, as I gazed on the millions of little sparkling lights over my head, I realized that they couldn't be stars! There seemed to be more and more of them, and occasionally one or two would disappear. The brightest of them where just above the trees and they got dimmer as they went. In some spots, there were no lights at all, and in others there were huge clusters. As I puzzled over this strange new group of constellations, it dawned on me that perhaps they would be talking about it on television or the radio, so I went inside to see what information I could gather.
When I went inside, the first thing I did was to turn on the lights in the living room. Fortunately, the electricity seemed to be working fine. I sat down on the couch and turned the television to the local news channel, just in time to here the speaker say five words that nearly froze my blood in my veins: "The World has turned inside-out!"
Although it explained the "stars" turning on and off (they were the electric lights of houses), that horrible fact nearly caused me to panic before I remembered that nothing really could happen right away. I was still alive and everything seemed peaceful outside, so I decided to settle down and see what the speaker had to say. "So far, no casualties have been reported," he said, glancing at some notes a porter had just handed him. "The damages are those you might expect with a small earthquake: weak buildings fallen over, a few roads damaged, and things like that. However," he stated, "it will be a major problem trying to decide how to get our planet back to normal."
With that, the screen turned to a commercial, and I shut off the television. I sat down to think of a possible way to turn the world right side out again. I thought for a long time but couldn't think of anything at all. Finally, about two a.m. according to the clock, I had a splendid idea.
"I've got it!" I cried as I rushed over to the telephone. I picked up the receiver and called the President of the USA. "Hello, Mr. President?" I said. "I have an idea as to how we can get the world right side out again!" I proceeded to tell him that if we turned on all the heat in the world all the way, and turned on all the stoves and hair dryers and things like that, perhaps the world would right side out again like a kernel of popcorn!
The President thought this was a fine idea, and he instantly drove in his big black limousine to the TV station to tell all the people on Earth to turn on all their heat generating appliances. Pretty soon it began to get hot outside. Then hotter, and hotter, and hotter until it was so hot, I could hardly stand it. Suddenly, there was a big POP and the world was right side out again, and it has been that way ever since.
THE END
--Aaron, two or three years ago
It was scary, and yet exciting, and nobody knew what happened. The first thing most people did, sensibly enough, was turn their lights or light a fire. Those who lived where it was evening or early morning where lucky; they're lights where already on! I was in bed when it happened, and the first thing I did was grab a flashlight and go out side to see what was happening.
Nothing looked very different; there were trees all around, my house was in the same place it always had been, and there were millions of stars. But suddenly, as I gazed on the millions of little sparkling lights over my head, I realized that they couldn't be stars! There seemed to be more and more of them, and occasionally one or two would disappear. The brightest of them where just above the trees and they got dimmer as they went. In some spots, there were no lights at all, and in others there were huge clusters. As I puzzled over this strange new group of constellations, it dawned on me that perhaps they would be talking about it on television or the radio, so I went inside to see what information I could gather.
When I went inside, the first thing I did was to turn on the lights in the living room. Fortunately, the electricity seemed to be working fine. I sat down on the couch and turned the television to the local news channel, just in time to here the speaker say five words that nearly froze my blood in my veins: "The World has turned inside-out!"
Although it explained the "stars" turning on and off (they were the electric lights of houses), that horrible fact nearly caused me to panic before I remembered that nothing really could happen right away. I was still alive and everything seemed peaceful outside, so I decided to settle down and see what the speaker had to say. "So far, no casualties have been reported," he said, glancing at some notes a porter had just handed him. "The damages are those you might expect with a small earthquake: weak buildings fallen over, a few roads damaged, and things like that. However," he stated, "it will be a major problem trying to decide how to get our planet back to normal."
With that, the screen turned to a commercial, and I shut off the television. I sat down to think of a possible way to turn the world right side out again. I thought for a long time but couldn't think of anything at all. Finally, about two a.m. according to the clock, I had a splendid idea.
"I've got it!" I cried as I rushed over to the telephone. I picked up the receiver and called the President of the USA. "Hello, Mr. President?" I said. "I have an idea as to how we can get the world right side out again!" I proceeded to tell him that if we turned on all the heat in the world all the way, and turned on all the stoves and hair dryers and things like that, perhaps the world would right side out again like a kernel of popcorn!
The President thought this was a fine idea, and he instantly drove in his big black limousine to the TV station to tell all the people on Earth to turn on all their heat generating appliances. Pretty soon it began to get hot outside. Then hotter, and hotter, and hotter until it was so hot, I could hardly stand it. Suddenly, there was a big POP and the world was right side out again, and it has been that way ever since.
THE END
--Aaron, two or three years ago
Monday, March 14, 2005
Short Stories from Two Friends’ Conversation on January the Nineteenth in A.D. 2005
Well, here they are: the stories that started it all. We wrote these over IM one night purely out of lack of anything else to do, and now we write stories on a blog! Hope you enjoy these lovely little tales!
One night a small beaver was chewing his cud. He noticed the north star. It was moving franticly in circles. He sighed. "Ben again, I’ll bet." He went to bed sobbing. The end.
-- Aaron
The dwarf ate some spinach for breakfast, and then he went to the river ganges to bathe. Before he could get to a nice spot, however, he realized that something or someone was following him. He hid in a prickly bush. Five hours later he decided it had been his imagination: dumb dwarves flock together. (That part was extra.) So the dwarf finally got himself untangled from the prickly bush. Then the task of picking out the thorns completely engrossed him. So much so, in fact, that he didn’t notice the dwarf that was sneaking silently from tree to tree, getting nearer and nearer..... Finally this other dwarf raised his ax above his head and came leaping out of the trees. This type of black dwarf had no heart at all. The dirty dwarf turned in time to see the black dwarf rushing at him and dove into the prickly bush. The momentum of the black dwarf carried him into the prickly bush along with the dirty one. The dirty one said to the black one, "Dumb dwarves must flock together." The raised ax was about to come down on his head. (That was from another paragraph.)
-- Ben
One night a small beaver was chewing his cud. He noticed the north star. It was moving franticly in circles. He sighed. "Ben again, I’ll bet." He went to bed sobbing. The end.
-- Aaron
The dwarf ate some spinach for breakfast, and then he went to the river ganges to bathe. Before he could get to a nice spot, however, he realized that something or someone was following him. He hid in a prickly bush. Five hours later he decided it had been his imagination: dumb dwarves flock together. (That part was extra.) So the dwarf finally got himself untangled from the prickly bush. Then the task of picking out the thorns completely engrossed him. So much so, in fact, that he didn’t notice the dwarf that was sneaking silently from tree to tree, getting nearer and nearer..... Finally this other dwarf raised his ax above his head and came leaping out of the trees. This type of black dwarf had no heart at all. The dirty dwarf turned in time to see the black dwarf rushing at him and dove into the prickly bush. The momentum of the black dwarf carried him into the prickly bush along with the dirty one. The dirty one said to the black one, "Dumb dwarves must flock together." The raised ax was about to come down on his head. (That was from another paragraph.)
-- Ben
The Rock Climb
The sun’s rays beat upon my neck as I strained for a good hold on the rock face. Although I had conquered the two earlier rock climbs with ease, I was far from completing this one. Out of my mind were the fellow climbers below, watching my slow progress. It was just the cliff and me. My New Balance sneakers scrabbled for a toehold, as my straining biceps and the rope held my full weight. The Balayer down below, denied my accusations of aiding my climbing, but it was apparent that the rope was helping to no small degree. Finally my toe found a niche in the rock and I released some of the weight that rested on my arms. My hardhat shaded my eyes from the sun as I looked down the one hundred feet of rock that I had climbed; then over the shallow valley that stretched below me. The leaves had the green of late June, reminding me of my home in the Catskill Mountains.
I got back to my task of conquering the cliff. I had fifteen feet to go to be the first boy from our group to climb the hardest route of the day. The veteran rock climber below had assured me that it was climbable; and yet as I looked carefully up the last few feet, trying to plan the best line of attack, it looked impossible. Tentatively I extended my hand out on to the smooth surface and after a short time of groping I found a good hold. From that point the rock bulged out slightly and then sloped gradually away from me until it reached the top of the cliff. I began pulling myself up, inch by inch over the bulge. It had very few good holds and just as I got over it, I could felt myself teetering on the edge of going back wards or forwards. I suddenly was thankful for that rope which was not helping me to cheat, but to save my life! With a swift movement I hugged the rock and tried to push the fear away. I enjoyed the feeling of challenge and risk; but at the same time, I wanted to have it done with too. My muscles were tiring so I tried to move swiftly, yet carefully, up the rock. The top drew slowly nearer until I reached out my hand and felt the steel ring which the rope ran through. I let out a cry of exhilaration and the young men below congratulated me with shouts of their own. I saw Aaron, a close friend, taking some pictures. I looked out over the valley once more and tried to rest my exhausted muscles; I didn’t waste much time though, because I knew that Andrew and a few of the other athletic fellows would want to try out this rock.
I stood up and let the rope hold me. Leaning slowly back, I tried to get my footing ready. I called to the balayer that I was ready to rappel and he let out the rope for several feet as I jumped down the rock. I nearly hit some jagged parts of the cliff, which I had climbed up, but I took it slowly. Soon I was jumping down the last few feet to the firm ground below. The feeling of accomplishment was immense. Dave was starting up the rock as I walked over to the safety zone where a bunch of the guys were telling jokes while eating and drinking. I knew we would be leaving presently, but I knew too, that the feeling of accomplishment that I had gained wouldn’t leave me quite so soon.
-- True story by Ben
I got back to my task of conquering the cliff. I had fifteen feet to go to be the first boy from our group to climb the hardest route of the day. The veteran rock climber below had assured me that it was climbable; and yet as I looked carefully up the last few feet, trying to plan the best line of attack, it looked impossible. Tentatively I extended my hand out on to the smooth surface and after a short time of groping I found a good hold. From that point the rock bulged out slightly and then sloped gradually away from me until it reached the top of the cliff. I began pulling myself up, inch by inch over the bulge. It had very few good holds and just as I got over it, I could felt myself teetering on the edge of going back wards or forwards. I suddenly was thankful for that rope which was not helping me to cheat, but to save my life! With a swift movement I hugged the rock and tried to push the fear away. I enjoyed the feeling of challenge and risk; but at the same time, I wanted to have it done with too. My muscles were tiring so I tried to move swiftly, yet carefully, up the rock. The top drew slowly nearer until I reached out my hand and felt the steel ring which the rope ran through. I let out a cry of exhilaration and the young men below congratulated me with shouts of their own. I saw Aaron, a close friend, taking some pictures. I looked out over the valley once more and tried to rest my exhausted muscles; I didn’t waste much time though, because I knew that Andrew and a few of the other athletic fellows would want to try out this rock.
I stood up and let the rope hold me. Leaning slowly back, I tried to get my footing ready. I called to the balayer that I was ready to rappel and he let out the rope for several feet as I jumped down the rock. I nearly hit some jagged parts of the cliff, which I had climbed up, but I took it slowly. Soon I was jumping down the last few feet to the firm ground below. The feeling of accomplishment was immense. Dave was starting up the rock as I walked over to the safety zone where a bunch of the guys were telling jokes while eating and drinking. I knew we would be leaving presently, but I knew too, that the feeling of accomplishment that I had gained wouldn’t leave me quite so soon.
-- True story by Ben
Tuesday, March 08, 2005
Timmy Buckner
The redoubtable Timmy Buckner thrust his fist at the thug attacking him.
"Take that!" he cried. He jumped up onto the nearby garbage dumpster, where he suddenly found himself hailed with a terrific volley of machine gun shot. This did not worry him, for he was extremely agile and had a bullet-proof vest on, but it made it harder for him to successfully land punches on his enemy.
"I’ll git ya, kid!" snarled the evil outlaw, and he pulled out his brass knuckles.
Timmy decided to retreat to a position where he had an advantage. After jumping off the dumpster, he scaled a nearby wire fence – dodging bullets as he went – and jumped the fifteen feet down to the other side. He grabbed a pistol that happened to be lying on the ground near him and shot one bullet right through the heart of the man who had been shooting at him.
"Maybe now I’ll have an easier time defeating the rest of the thugs around here," he thought. Just as he thought that, however, a dozen more of the crooks jumped down by him; from where he could not tell, but they were there just the same. "Ha! Twelve against one! But I’m not worried at all!" he shouted.
Timmy Buckner jumped three feet into the air, and, spinning around, he kicked. When he landed, five men were lying on the ground unconscious. Leaning over, Timmy butted the nearest standing man in the midriff, and then delivered an uppercut to the second-nearest man’s chin.
"Only five more to go!’ he thought. Suddenly, however, he found himself surrounded by four dozen more thugs! "I think I’ll scram," he said to himself, but he couldn’t move his legs! "What’s happening?" he cried out loud. He could not run, or even walk! He tried screaming, but no sound came forth from his throat.
The fifty-four criminals were closing in. They picked up the helpless Timmy, so strangely immobilized, and tied him up tightly with steel cables. They carried triumphantly him to the top of a nearby mile-high cliff. Poor Timmy Buckner found himself tossed, none too gently, over the edge of the perilous precipice. He fell down, down, down, until he could see the ground coming up closer, closer, closer, and......
CRASH! Timmy roared with anguish and fright as he flailed about, restrained by the unbreakable fibers. He was strangely unhurt, but he felt as if the soft moss he had landed on was suffocating him. As if through the back of his head, he could see the fifty-four crooks parachuting down after him one by one. Frantically, unceasingly, he cried for help with the last few breaths in his lung. Still the thugs continued to descend......
"Timmy, darling!" It was Mrs. Buckner speaking. "Son, what’s wrong?"
"I-I – I’m not sure," Timmy mumbled. He rolled over, and his mother pulled the disheveled covers back over his small, quivering body.
Mr. Buckner entered the bedroom. "What was the matter, dear?"
"Oh, Timmy was having bad dreams again."
"Is he better now?"
"Yes, he’s fast asleep again. I told you we shouldn’t let him watch those John Wayne movies. After all, he’s only seven!"
--Aaron
"Take that!" he cried. He jumped up onto the nearby garbage dumpster, where he suddenly found himself hailed with a terrific volley of machine gun shot. This did not worry him, for he was extremely agile and had a bullet-proof vest on, but it made it harder for him to successfully land punches on his enemy.
"I’ll git ya, kid!" snarled the evil outlaw, and he pulled out his brass knuckles.
Timmy decided to retreat to a position where he had an advantage. After jumping off the dumpster, he scaled a nearby wire fence – dodging bullets as he went – and jumped the fifteen feet down to the other side. He grabbed a pistol that happened to be lying on the ground near him and shot one bullet right through the heart of the man who had been shooting at him.
"Maybe now I’ll have an easier time defeating the rest of the thugs around here," he thought. Just as he thought that, however, a dozen more of the crooks jumped down by him; from where he could not tell, but they were there just the same. "Ha! Twelve against one! But I’m not worried at all!" he shouted.
Timmy Buckner jumped three feet into the air, and, spinning around, he kicked. When he landed, five men were lying on the ground unconscious. Leaning over, Timmy butted the nearest standing man in the midriff, and then delivered an uppercut to the second-nearest man’s chin.
"Only five more to go!’ he thought. Suddenly, however, he found himself surrounded by four dozen more thugs! "I think I’ll scram," he said to himself, but he couldn’t move his legs! "What’s happening?" he cried out loud. He could not run, or even walk! He tried screaming, but no sound came forth from his throat.
The fifty-four criminals were closing in. They picked up the helpless Timmy, so strangely immobilized, and tied him up tightly with steel cables. They carried triumphantly him to the top of a nearby mile-high cliff. Poor Timmy Buckner found himself tossed, none too gently, over the edge of the perilous precipice. He fell down, down, down, until he could see the ground coming up closer, closer, closer, and......
CRASH! Timmy roared with anguish and fright as he flailed about, restrained by the unbreakable fibers. He was strangely unhurt, but he felt as if the soft moss he had landed on was suffocating him. As if through the back of his head, he could see the fifty-four crooks parachuting down after him one by one. Frantically, unceasingly, he cried for help with the last few breaths in his lung. Still the thugs continued to descend......
"Timmy, darling!" It was Mrs. Buckner speaking. "Son, what’s wrong?"
"I-I – I’m not sure," Timmy mumbled. He rolled over, and his mother pulled the disheveled covers back over his small, quivering body.
Mr. Buckner entered the bedroom. "What was the matter, dear?"
"Oh, Timmy was having bad dreams again."
"Is he better now?"
"Yes, he’s fast asleep again. I told you we shouldn’t let him watch those John Wayne movies. After all, he’s only seven!"
--Aaron
Monday, March 07, 2005
Ahem....
After much deliberation, the VPW head committee has decided to permit submissions of short stories for those who so desire. The committee will decide (with a fifty percent vote subject to overruling by other fifty percent majority) whether or not to publish said stories, and may edit the stories at will. All said stories should be submitted to gr8writers@aol.com. Thank you.
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