One day the god of wine came down to earth and heard about all the shooting in the world. Dionysus flew right back to Olympus and went to Zeus. Dionysus asked Zeus if he can come down to earth and try to stop the shooting. Zeus said‚” Yes you may‚ but please take other gods with you.” Dionysus said‚ “Thank you‚ but I could go alone.” “No‚ you cannot‚’’ said Zeus.” Dionysus asked‚ “ Who may I take then?” “You may take Ares and Hercules‚” said Zeus. Then‚ Dionysus went to go look for Ares and Hercules
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I recognized Francis by three things‚ her strong southern accent‚ her rich intoxicating perfume‚ and the color of her skin. She was my “Black Grandmama.” When I was a little kid‚ my family would drive down to my father’s hometown of New Orleans Louisiana‚ and stay with his parents for months at a time. My grandparents‚ very wealthy‚ had an ensemble of workers. Maids‚ butlers‚ cooks‚ all of which had one thing in common; they were black. Growing up in Dubuque I had very few encounters with people
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There’s something so tragically beautiful about the rain‚ Hange muses to herself as she traces and connects the transparent drops dotting the mullioned window. She can’t deny it: it’s certainly fitting for the given situation. She breathes in and the fiery ache within her lungs doesn’t go away; it only worsens‚ and she fears‚ for a fleeting moment‚ that maybe it’ll burn a cavity through her chest. When she exhales‚ she feels a lump in her throat and a persistent ache behind her eyes. Her head feels
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Once there was a pair of socks that belonged to a little boy. The socks liked the little boy‚ but one of them was not happy. This sock was tired of its same old routine and longed for adventure. It wanted to see what life was like on the other side of the world. Little did this poor sock know what its future would soon hold. It all started on a cold winter day. The little boy’s mother was doing her laundry as usual. She had just finished washing the clothes and was hanging them out on the clothesline
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It was the day of the championship game. The day before I got 1 hit out of 5 at bats. I could not get a hit. All I did was fly out or get walked. I was so mad all I did for the rest of the day was hitting the in the backyard. The day of our final game I was in our backyard hitting. As I was hitting my brother walked outside to help me. He told me to stop hitting so he could tell me what happened yesterday. And when he was talking I really didn’t understand what he was talking about. After he told
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“How have I been so blind and participated in the Lottery all those years?” I said to myself. “Now I know how it felt to be the family who got chosen to do the Lottery and sacrifice one of their family members for this tradition that no longer has a purpose.” Suddenly‚ this anger‚ frustration built up inside me made me yell‚ “You didn’t give him enough time to take any paper he wanted. I saw you. It wasn’t fair‚” to Mr. Summers. Mrs. Delacroix replied‚ “Be a good sport‚ Tessie.”
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It had been a long day of work at the slave trade company and Ogo was getting ready to fall asleep when Paama yelled‚ “Minu is gone!”. Ogo jumped out of his bed and ran towards Paama. “Do you know where Minu went?” “No‚ but he was kidnapped somehow”. So Ogo ran back to the slave trade company just in case Minu wanted to visit Ogo. When Ogo was running he saw his brother was being sold for a slave. Minu was boarding the slave ship‚ Jesus of Lübeck which was heading for Morocco. Ogo then knew that
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Trapped Suddenly‚ I realize that I am trapped in a nightmare. Standing in the doorway of a building‚ a rush of damp‚ misty air hits me. I study the open door and walk forward. The door slams shut behind me‚ locking me in. The air rings with a loud metallic bang as the door hits its frame. I turn to see the rattling door seal itself. It remains locked tight‚ allowing no one to pass through; it has trapped me in‚ and forbids me to walk out. Fear paralyzes my entire body‚ and I am unable to think
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There was a man who had been mute for 3 or 4 years. This man was in his very late stages of Alzheimer’s suffering with dementia nonetheless. He could not live on his own whatsoever. He needed a high level of assistance in most‚ if not all‚ his daily activities. There wasn’t much hope left in this man‚ let alone treatments available‚ until one day a music therapist was provided. She sang old songs to him and to other patients‚ triggering back memories. These memories seemed to spark a light
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In Cortanooth‚ there is a native fruit that grows every spring. It is called manala and it’s skin is bright green‚ like a granny smith apple. When you take a knife to it’s thick skin to reveal a dark orange‚ soft flesh that tastes similar to a mango. This fruit was once very popular in Cortanooth‚ until a hurricane wiped out the small island‚ leaving few of the trees it grows on. One day in April 1974‚ Mystic came across a manala tree that stood isolated from the village he lives in. He took a new
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