I was at a duct cleaning job yesterday and they collected things. A lot of things. One of the things they collected was food. They had a whole refrigerator full of it. It was really astounding. They collected other things too. Here is a picture of a antique golf club collection.
Here is a side view of the case.
Now you may think that that is quite a few, but look at this.
Please repeat the last sentence.
Now that's allot. ( That's Barak cleaning the duct work.) They collected other stuff too: Antique baseball gloves, old wedding dresses, lots of tea sets, special golf balls, Zippo lighters, jack knives, little metal disk things, jewelry(they had a huge dresser and station with jewelry making tools), Asian cabinets, among other things. After the job the owner gave me a Hershey's bar. : )
I wrote a short story a few days ago. I was thinking it would be neat if I could draw up simple illustrations for the stories. I was also thinking I could have poll to see if anyone thinks its a good idea.
Do you thinks it is a good idea for me to draw illustrations for my stories?
1-No
2-Yes
3-Levi for President
If you want, please comment a number.
Here is the short story:
John Coul’s Diary
2/7/1869 I write this diary in the hopes that after I am dead someone else will read it. Read not this account if you simply wish to disregard the events of my life. I write only truthful events; also I will not exaggerate them if I so can.
My tale begins last week on Saturday the 1’st. I live with my widowed mother and older brother, Ned. My mother had received a call early in the morning around 7:30. The caller was the young daughter of my mother’s good friend Mrs. Parting, the wife of our town’s druggist. Telly Parting had stepped inside (it was bitterly cold outside), and quickly implored Mother to come to her own mother’s comfort who had been recently struck sick with pneumonia. She said the doctor and her father were trying to keep the temperature lower. My mother left immediately, pausing only to get her coat (later in the evening she sent Nelly back for bedclothes to spend the night).
Ned, my brother, intended to leave at 10:00 to attend a business engagement. I was consequently to be alone at the house until 4:00 when he was due to return.
I proceeded to study my mathematics volume for which I was taking a course at the local college. I estimate that around 12:45 I grew weary of learning, and decided to refresh myself with my violin. I had learned how to play when I was young and greatly enjoyed it’s soothing sound (whenever I remembered to play). I walked upstairs and turned to go in my room.
I opened the door and instantly saw the vivid white sun shining through my bedroom window. I hastily went to my closet and swung the door open. I did not see my violin. I looked behind some boxes and still it was missing. I was looking around the room when I remembered that I had put the violin in the attic two weeks ago when cleaning my closet. I retrieved the violin from the attic and sat down in the dinning room, which is directly in front of the stairs. I had memorized many lively jigs when I was young, and now I could enjoy the rewards of practice. I began with a small piece by Strauss( I do not know the song’s name). I continued with Romanian Dance. As I played I tapped my foot to the beat. I then came to a difficult part in the song and I stopped tapping, but as I continued to play I could still hear a faint tapping to the beat. I abruptly stopped in surprise, oddly, after I stopped the tapping continued for a few beats before stopping itself. Intrigued I started playing a few more lines until I heard the strange rapping. I again stopped suddenly listening to it’s delayed stop.
“Ned!” I called out, thinking my brother had come home early. There was no reply. I again called out, softly setting my violin on the table, “ Is someone here?” I slowly stood up listening closely for noise or movement. I heard nothing. I thought it must have been someone playing a poor joke. But I did not know who would want do something like that. I’m not especially noticeable in the college, so no reason to suspect fellow students. I quickly looked around the house looking for someone.
I saw no one so I returned to the dining room, and continued on another song, a slower one. This time I did not tap my own foot. Soon I heard the slight tapping sound. I played quieter so as to hear the knock better, and I could distinctly hear it tap on the beat. I stopped. It again stopped as before. This time I thought I would try the element of surprise. I jumped up and ran into the surrounding rooms.
All were empty of life.
We have no cellar, and the stairway to the upper level is in plain sight from where I was sitting. I then thought it possible that someone outside could somehow hear me playing. I got on my jacket and cap and stepped outdoors. The thick snow sparkled in the bright sunlight. Looking about I circled the house looking for any sign of a sneak. There were no tracks, except for those of my mother’s, Nelly’s, and Ned’s.restaurant.
2/7/1869 I write this diary in the hopes that after I am dead someone else will read it. Read not this account if you simply wish to disregard the events of my life. I write only truthful events; also I will not exaggerate them if I so can.
My tale begins last week on Saturday the 1’st. I live with my widowed mother and older brother, Ned. My mother had received a call early in the morning around 7:30. The caller was the young daughter of my mother’s good friend Mrs. Parting, the wife of our town’s druggist. Telly Parting had stepped inside (it was bitterly cold outside), and quickly implored Mother to come to her own mother’s comfort who had been recently struck sick with pneumonia. She said the doctor and her father were trying to keep the temperature lower. My mother left immediately, pausing only to get her coat (later in the evening she sent Nelly back for bedclothes to spend the night).
Ned, my brother, intended to leave at 10:00 to attend a business engagement. I was consequently to be alone at the house until 4:00 when he was due to return.
I proceeded to study my mathematics volume for which I was taking a course at the local college. I estimate that around 12:45 I grew weary of learning, and decided to refresh myself with my violin. I had learned how to play when I was young and greatly enjoyed it’s soothing sound (whenever I remembered to play). I walked upstairs and turned to go in my room.
I opened the door and instantly saw the vivid white sun shining through my bedroom window. I hastily went to my closet and swung the door open. I did not see my violin. I looked behind some boxes and still it was missing. I was looking around the room when I remembered that I had put the violin in the attic two weeks ago when cleaning my closet. I retrieved the violin from the attic and sat down in the dinning room, which is directly in front of the stairs. I had memorized many lively jigs when I was young, and now I could enjoy the rewards of practice. I began with a small piece by Strauss( I do not know the song’s name). I continued with Romanian Dance. As I played I tapped my foot to the beat. I then came to a difficult part in the song and I stopped tapping, but as I continued to play I could still hear a faint tapping to the beat. I abruptly stopped in surprise, oddly, after I stopped the tapping continued for a few beats before stopping itself. Intrigued I started playing a few more lines until I heard the strange rapping. I again stopped suddenly listening to it’s delayed stop.
“Ned!” I called out, thinking my brother had come home early. There was no reply. I again called out, softly setting my violin on the table, “ Is someone here?” I slowly stood up listening closely for noise or movement. I heard nothing. I thought it must have been someone playing a poor joke. But I did not know who would want do something like that. I’m not especially noticeable in the college, so no reason to suspect fellow students. I quickly looked around the house looking for someone.
I saw no one so I returned to the dining room, and continued on another song, a slower one. This time I did not tap my own foot. Soon I heard the slight tapping sound. I played quieter so as to hear the knock better, and I could distinctly hear it tap on the beat. I stopped. It again stopped as before. This time I thought I would try the element of surprise. I jumped up and ran into the surrounding rooms.
All were empty of life.
We have no cellar, and the stairway to the upper level is in plain sight from where I was sitting. I then thought it possible that someone outside could somehow hear me playing. I got on my jacket and cap and stepped outdoors. The thick snow sparkled in the bright sunlight. Looking about I circled the house looking for any sign of a sneak. There were no tracks, except for those of my mother’s, Nelly’s, and Ned’s.restaurant.
Now that was fun to make. Some things aren't all that fun to make. Like my bed. No really, you come over and try to make it. You gotta stretch the springs, not to mention the reupholstering.
And remember to make God's day.The Children of Light
Part 7
Arkhay shouted out a question to Olam, “Has the black stranger yet left by horse?”
The frowning Olam, momentarily surprised, murmured in a low voice repeating what Arkhay had said, “ Reckon he durn’t.” He said looking up. Olam’s face momentarily brightened as it caught aflame by a spark of remembrance. “His horse lef’ though.”
“What do you mean?” The confused boy said.
“I means the despicable little Blackie helped hisself to openin’ the gate, ‘for I could get meself out ‘ere. An slapped his ‘orse out the gate with a letter in t’ bag.
“How could you tell there was a letter? The bags were stuffed with things.”
“He’d emptied ‘dem ‘ags except for a white piece of paper that I seen over t’ edge of the bag.
“What do you mean?” The confused boy said.
“I means the despicable little Blackie helped hisself to openin’ the gate, ‘for I could get meself out ‘ere. An slapped his ‘orse out the gate with a letter in t’ bag.
“How could you tell there was a letter? The bags were stuffed with things.”
“He’d emptied ‘dem ‘ags except for a white piece of paper that I seen over t’ edge of the bag.
1 comment:
3-Levi for President! So totally!
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