Hoppy Spring!

Cartoon!

Here's a lin to a site where you can create your own cartoon. Enjoy

Fred is Dead!

Fed is dead! Yes, it's true. In these past few weeks, I have coaxed, pleaded, wept, and literally willed him back from the brink of death countless times but in spite of all my efforts Fred is gone.

I've known and even prepared for his demise. He had all the classic signs- he was overheating constantly and he would often just loose all mobility and every time, he recovered, he lost a bit of his memory. He was just NOT the Fred I knew and loved.

It was heart-breaking to watch him struggle. I even thought, forgive me, of assisting him on to a better life and there were those who agreed readily with this idea. After all was said and done though, the majority convinced me that "taking a hammer to him" was just too harsh so I settled myself to wait it out.

I tried everything-all the home remedies I could think of; sought advise from a variety of helpful people, but in the end not even a specialist could save him.

In this modern world of miraculous technology however, Fred can live again or so they tell me. I am collecting his parts right now-the best ones-the ones that were working prior to his death. I remain hopeful.

They say they can rebuild him and he will be better and stronger. I just hope it won't cost six -million dollars. I

Help!

Help!

Someone give me a topic!

A list of words to incorporate into a tale!

SOMETHING!

Jane

Jane

By D.J.L.

She was five foot two and weighed about a hundred three pounds, Hartwell guessed. He prided himself on being right on the money, and he was most of the time. He allowed his gaze to slide over her body. Blonde ringlets framed her face giving her a child like appearance but Jane was not a child. She was between twenty-five and thirty years, Hartwell guessed again. Jane was a woman filled with mysteries and he was determined to explore each and every one of them.

Hartwell let his mind drift back to when he had first seen her. She wore jeans and a faded denim shirt tied in a knot at her waist. Hiking boots with bright red socks sat neatly beside her back pack. The boots appeared to be quite new and Hartwell wondered if Jane stopped here in this lonely place to give her feet a rest. She seemed in quiet contemplation, lying there, her head tilted skyward as her wide-open blue eyes explored the green lushness of the leaves.

Hartwell recalled the buzz and hum of busy insects and the sticky prickle of sweat dripping down his neck. The day was already summer sizzle hot and it was still early.

Hartwell studied Jane’s face. He noted the beginnings of laugh lines around her mouth and he felt a sudden flash of anger and sadness. The waste and the senselessness of it all welled up from somewhere deep inside him and exploded like hot bile in his throat. It was always the same- every single time

He’d known many women just like her and it was always a waste. This Jane, like countless others who had crossed his path were puzzles, complicated crossword jumbles that had been carelessly tossed away like soiled newspapers.

Hartwell sighed and hardened himself for the task at hand and the stainless steel coldness of the room seemed to echo his thoughts as he touched her body.

“Jane... Jane Doe,” he whispered. “Speak.”

C Copyright 2009 by D.J.L.