She nervously peered over the edge.

She understood in her mind that the view was supposed to be

beautiful, but all she felt was fear. There had always been something about heights that disturbed

her, and now she could feel the full force of this unease. She reluctantly crept a little closer with the

encouragement of her friends as the fear continued to build. She couldn't help but feel that

something horrible was about to happen.

It was difficult to explain to them how the diagnosis of certain death had actually given him life. While

everyone around him was in tears and upset, he actually felt more at ease. The doctor said it would

be less than a year. That gave him a year to live, something he'd failed to do with his daily drudgery

of a routine that had passed as life until then.

She wondered if the note had reached him. She scolded herself for not handing it to him in person.

She trusted her friend, but so much could happen. She waited impatiently for word.

She was in a hurry. Not the standard hurry when you're in a rush to get someplace, but a frantic

hurry. The type of hurry where a few seconds could mean life or death. She raced down the road

ignoring speed limits and weaving between cars. She was only a few minutes away when traffic

came to a dead standstill on the road ahead.

Her eyebrows were a shade darker than her hair. They were thick and almost horizontal,

emphasizing the depth of her eyes. She was rather handsome than beautiful. Her face was

captivating by reason of a certain frankness of expression and a contradictory subtle play of

features. Her manner was engaging.

It was a rat's nest. Not a literal one, but that is what her hair seemed to resemble every morning

when she got up. It was going to take at least an hour to get it under control and she was sick and

tired of it. She peered into the mirror and wondered if it was worth it. It wasn't. She opened the
drawer and picked up the hair clippers.

Don't be scared. The things out there that are unknown aren't scary in themselves. They are just

unknown at the moment. Take the time to know them before you list them as scary. Then the world

will be a much less scary place for you.

Since they are still preserved in the rocks for us to see, they must have been formed quite recently,

that is, geologically speaking. What can explain these striations and their common orientation? Did

you ever hear about the Great Ice Age or the Pleistocene Epoch? Less than one million years ago,

in fact, some 12,000 years ago, an ice sheet many thousands of feet thick rode over Burke

Mountain in a southeastward direction. The many boulders frozen to the underside of the ice sheet

tended to scratch the rocks over which they rode. The scratches or striations seen in the park rocks

were caused by these attached boulders. The ice sheet also plucked and rounded Burke Mountain

into the shape it possesses today.

She sat in the darkened room waiting. It was now a standoff. He had the power to put her in the

room, but not the power to make her repent. It wasn't fair and no matter how long she had to endure

the darkness, she wouldn't change her attitude. At three years old, Sandy's stubborn personality had

already bloomed into full view.

The trees, therefore, must be such old and primitive techniques that they thought nothing of them,

deeming them so inconsequential that even savages like us would know of them and not be

suspicious. At that, they probably didn't have too much time after they detected us orbiting and

intending to land. And if that were true, there could be only one place where their civilization was

hidden.

She didn't understand how changed worked. When she looked at today compared to yesterday,
there was nothing that she could see that was different. Yet, when she looked at today compared to

last year, she couldn't see how anything was ever the same.

There are different types of secrets. She had held onto plenty of them during her life, but this one

was different. She found herself holding onto the worst type. It was the type of secret that could

gnaw away at your insides if you didn't tell someone about it, but it could end up getting you killed if

you did.

It went through such rapid contortions that the little bear was forced to change his hold on it so many

times he became confused in the darkness, and could not, for the life of him, tell whether he held

the sheep right side up, or upside down. But that point was decided for him a moment later by the

animal itself, who, with a sudden twist, jabbed its horns so hard into his lowest ribs that he gave a

grunt of anger and disgust.

MaryLou wore the tiara with pride. There was something that made doing anything she didn't really

want to do a bit easier when she wore it. She really didn't care what those staring through the

window were thinking as she vacuumed her apartment.

She looked at her little girl who was about to become a teen. She tried to think back to when the girl

had been younger but failed to pinpoint the exact moment when she had become a little too big to

pick up and carry. It hit her all at once. She was no longer a little girl and she stood there speechless

with fear, sadness, and pride all running through her at the same time.

Then came the night of the first falling star. It was seen early in the morning, rushing over

Winchester eastward, a line of flame high in the atmosphere. Hundreds must have seen it and taken

it for an ordinary falling star. It seemed that it fell to earth about one hundred miles east of him.
"It was so great to hear from you today and it was such weird timing," he said. "This is going to

sound funny and a little strange, but you were in a dream I had just a couple of days ago. I'd love to

get together and tell you about it if you're up for a cup of coffee," he continued, laying the trapped

he's been planning for years.

Indescribable oppression, which seemed to generate in some unfamiliar part of her consciousness,

filled her whole being with a vague anguish. It was like a shadow, like a mist passing across her

soul's summer day. It was strange and unfamiliar; it was a mood. She did not sit there inwardly

upbraiding her husband, lamenting at Fate, which had directed her footsteps to the path which they

had taken. She was just having a good cry all to herself. The mosquitoes made merry over her,

biting her firm, round arms and nipping at her bare insteps.

"It was so great to hear from you today and it was such weird timing," he said. "This is going to

sound funny and a little strange, but you were in a dream I had just a couple of days ago. I'd love to

get together and tell you about it if you're up for a cup of coffee," he continued, laying the trapped

he's been planning for years.

There was no time. He ran out of the door without half the stuff he needed for work, but it didn't

matter. He was late and if he didn't make this meeting on time, someone's life may be in danger.