In this section I've place
a few short stories....all true to my knowledge. Some are about
love, some about safety, and some- just for fun. I hope you enjoy
them as much as I did. If you have a short story that you would
like to see added to this page, please feel free to send it to
me, and I'll place it asap :-) Please remember to keep it clean
though. Thank you.
"Story
Titles"
(Just click on one or scroll
down the page)
Shannon...on-line
safety
IMPORTANT!!! Everyone with children on line should read and discuss
this!
Shannon could hear the footsteps behind her
as she walked toward home. The thought of
being followed made her heart beat faster.
"You're being silly," she told herself, "no one
is following you."
To be safe, she began to walk faster, but the
footsteps kept up with her pace. She was
afraid to look back and she was glad she
was almost home.
Shannon said a quick prayer, "God please
get me home safe." She saw the porch light
burning and ran the rest of the way to her
house.
Once inside, she leaned against the door
for a moment, relieved to be in the safety
of her home. She glanced out the window
to see if anyone was there. The sidewalk
was empty.
After tossing her books on the sofa, she
decided to grab a snack and get on-line.
She logged on under her screen name
ByAngel213. She checked her Buddy List
and saw GoTo123 was on. She sent him an instant message:
ByAngel213: Hi I'm glad you are on! I thought someone was following
me home today. It was really weird!
GoTo123: LOL You watch too much TV. Why would someone be following
you? Don't you live in a safe neighborhood?
ByAngel213: Of course I do. LOL I guess it was my imagination
cuz' I didn't see anybody when I looked out.
GoTo123: Unless you gave your name out on-line. You haven't done
that have you?
ByAngel213: Of course not. I'm not stupid you know.
GoTo123: Did you have a softball game after school today?
ByAngel213: Yes and we won!!
GoTo123: That's great! Who did you play?
ByAngel213: We played the Hornets. LOL. Their uniforms are so
gross! They look like bees. LOL
GoTo123: What is your team called?
ByAngel213: We are the Canton Cats. We have tiger paws on our
uniforms. They are really kewl.
GoTo123: Did you pitch?
ByAngel213: No I play second base. I got to go. My homework has
to be done before my parents get home. I don't want them
mad at me. Bye!
GoTo123: Catch you later. Bye
Meanwhile......
GoTo123 went to the member menu and began to search for her profile.
When it came up, he highlighted it and printed it
out. He took out a pen and began to write down what he knew
about Angel so far.
Her name: Shannon
Birthday: Jan. 3, 1985
Age:13
State where she lived: North Carolina
Hobbies: softball, chorus, skating and going to the mall.
Besides this information, he knew she lived
in Canton because she had just told him.
He knew she stayed by herself until 6:30 p.m.
every afternoon until her parents came home
from work. He knew she played softball on
Thursday afternoons on the school team, and
the team was named the Canton Cats. Her
favorite number 7 was printed on her jersey.
He knew she was in the seventh grade at the
Canton Junior High School. She had told him
all this in the conversations they had on-line.
He had enough information to find her now.
Shannon didn't tell her parents about the
incident on the way home from the ball
park that day. She didn't want them to
make a scene and stop her from walking
home from the softball games. Parents
were always overreacting and hers were
the worst. It made her wish she was not
an only child. Maybe if she had brothers
and sisters, her parents wouldn't be so
overprotective.
By Thursday, Shannon had forgotten about
the footsteps following her. Her game was in
full swing when suddenly she felt someone
staring at her.
It was then that the memory came back.
She glanced up from her second base
position to see a man watching her closely.
He was leaning against the fence behind first
base and he smiled when she looked at him.
He didn't look scary and she quickly dismissed
the fear she had felt.
After the game, he sat on a bleacher while she
talked to the coach. She noticed his smile once
again as she walked past him. He nodded and
she smiled back. He noticed her name on the
back of her shirt. He knew he had found her.
Quietly, he walked a safe distance behind
her. It was only a few blocks to Shannon's
home, and once he saw where she lived he
quickly returned to the park to get his car.
Now he had to wait. He decided to get a bite
to eat until the time came to go to Shannon's
house. He drove to a fast food restaurant and
sat there until time to make his move.
Shannon was in her room later that evening
when she heard voices in the living room.
"Shannon, come here," her father called.
He sounded upset and she couldn't imagine
why. She went into the room to see the man
from the ballpark sitting on the sofa. "Sit
down," her father began, "this man has just
told us a most interesting story about you."
Shannon moved cautiously to a chair across
from the man. How could he tell her parents
anything?
She had never seen him before today!
"Do you know who I am Shannon?" The man asked. "No,"
Shannon answered.
"I am a police officer and your online friend, GoTo123."
Shannon was stunned. "That's
impossible! GoTo is a kid my age! He's 14 and he lives in Michigan!"
The man smiled. "I know I told you all that, but it wasn't
true.
You see Shannon there are people on-line who pretend to be kids;
I was one of them. But while others do it to find kids and hurt
them, I belong to a group of parents who do it to protect kids
from predators. I came here to find you to teach you how dangerous
it is to give out too much information to people on-line. You
told me enough about yourself to make it easy for me to find
you. Your name, the
school you went to, the name of your ball team and the position
you played. The number and name on your jersey just made finding
you a breeze."
Shannon was stunned. "You mean you don't
live in Michigan?" He laughed. "No, I live in
Raleigh. It made you feel safe to think I was
so far away, didn't it?" She nodded.
"I had a friend whose daughter was like you. Only she wasn't
as lucky. The guy found her and murdered her while she was home
alone. Kids are taught not to tell anyone when they
are alone, yet they do it all the time on-line.
The wrong people trick you into giving out information a little
here and there on-line. Before you know it, you have told them
enough for them to find you without even realizing you have done
it. I hope you've learned a lesson from this and won't do it
again."
"I won't," Shannon promised solemnly. "Will you
tell others about this so they will be safe too?"
"It's a promise!" That night Shannon and her
dad and Mom all knelt down together and prayed.
They thanked God for protecting Shannon from
what could have been a tragic situation.
WET OATMEAL KISSES
The baby is teething. The children are fighting.
Your husband called and said, "Eat dinner without me."
One of these days you'll explode and shout to the kids,
"Why don't you just grow up and act your age!" And
they will.
Or,"You guys get outside and find yourselves something to
do --
And don't slam the door!" And they don't.
You'll straighten their bedrooms until it's all neat and tidy,
toys are displayed on the shelf, hangers in the closet,
animals caged.
You'll yell, "Now I want it to stay this way!" And
it will.
You will prepare a perfect dinner with a salad
that hasn't had all the olives picked out
and a cake with no finger traces in the icing and you'll say
"Now this is a meal for company."
And you will eat it alone.
You'll yell, "I want complete privacy on the phone.
No screaming, Do you hear me?" And no one will answer.
No more plastic tablecloths stained with spaghetti.
No more dandelion bouquets.
No more iron-on patches.
No more wet, knotted shoelaces,
muddy boots or rubber bands for ponytails.
Imagine--a lipstick with a point,
no babysitters for New Years Eve,
washing clothes only once a week,
no PTA meetings
or silly school plays where your child is a tree,
no car pools, blaring stereos or forgotten lunch money.
No more Christmas presents made of library paste and toothpicks,
no wet oatmeal kisses, no more tooth fairy,
no more giggles in the dark,
scraped knees to kiss or sticky fingers to clean.
Only a voice asking,
"Why don't you grow up?"
And the silence echoes: "I did"
unknown
Date Night
This guy lives in Westchester, NY, and goes to school at Ithaca
College. For
two years he has wanted to ask a certain girl (who is also from
Westchester
and also goes to Ithaca) out on a date, but has never had the
courage.
Finally, one day over the summer he sees her at home and musters
up the
courage to ask her out. She accepts, and they make dinner plans
for Saturday
night. Friday night this guy goes out with all of his buddies
and drinks like
Prohibition is coming back. Saturday, he is in such bad shape
that he can't
make it through 20 minutes without either throwing up or using
the bathroom.
After several hours of this, he is able to stop throwing up,
but he is still
running to the toilet every 20 minutes. He doesn't want to cancel
the date,
because he's afraid he won't ever talk to her again. So they
meet in
Westchester, and take the train to New York City (about a 30
minute ride).
They get to the restaurant and he excuses himself during the
appetizers to use
the bathroom. They enjoy the rest of the appetizers without interruption,
but
he has to go back again during the entrees. They decide to get
dessert.
During dessert, our hero feels another rumbling, but doesn't
want to look
like a complete bathroom freak, so he holds it. After a few minutes,
the
rumbling subsides, but he still has a bit of gas stored up. He
decides to let
this little bit of gas fly right there at the table (discreetly,
of course).
Unfortunately, this little bit of gas came with another little
surprise!! "Oh
crap," he thinks (and feels). Instead of running to the
bathroom right away,
our hero immediately leans on the arms of his chair to keep from
sitting on
this surpris e.
He maintains this yoga p osition for the rest of dessert, trying
to figure out
what to do before his tan pants start to smell, and/or start
to show stains on
the outside. He quickly pays for dinner and they leave the restaurant.
(Oh,
by the way, he is walking like a cowboy.) On the way to t he train
station
they pass the Gap.
"Do you mind if I run in and buy a sweater that I was looking
at last week?"
he asks. "No problem, I'd like to look around too,"
she replies.
They go into the Gap. Fortunately, at the Gap, men's fashions
are on the
right, women's fashions are on the left. They split up. Our hero
grabs the
first sweater within reach, and hurries back to the khakis. After
selecting a
pair that most closely resembles his current
outfit, he brings both items to the register. His eyes are on
his date
(still on the other side of the store) to make sure that she
doesn't see him
buying the pants. He doesn't even want the sweater, so he says
through
clenched teeth (just in case his date can read lips
from 40 feet away) "Just the pants." "What?"
asks the Gap girl. "Just the
pants!" (Eyes still trained on his date.) Gap girl: "Oh,
OK." He pays for
the pants and walks over to his date, then they leave the store.
They board the train just before it leaves the station and find
two seats in
the middle of the car. Without sitting down, our hero excuses
himself and
walks to the bathroom in the back of the car. He gets to the
bathroom as the
train departs and quickly rips off his
pants and boxer shorts. He rolls them into a ball and throws
them out the
window. After cleaning himself off, he opens the Gap bag and
pulls out...
just the sweater!!!
The
Box
We often learn the most from our children.
The story goes that some time ago, a man punished his 3-year-old
daughter
for wasting a roll of gold wrapping paper. Money was tight and
he became
infuriated when the child tried to decorate a box to put under
the
Christmas tree.
Never the less, the little girl brought the gift to her father
the next
morning and said "This is for you, Daddy." He was embarrassed
by his
earlier overreaction, but his anger flared again when he found
the box was
empty. He yelled at her, "Don't you know that when you give
someone a
present, there's supposed to be something inside it?"
The little girl looked up at him with tears in her eyes and said,
"Oh,
Daddy it is not empty. I blew kisses into the box. All for you,
Daddy."
The father was crushed. He put his arms around his little girl,
and he begged for her forgiveness.
It is told that the man kept that gold box by his bed for years
and
whenever he was discouraged, he would take out an imaginary kiss
and remember the love of the child who had put it there.
In a very real sense, each of us as parents has been given a
gold
container filled with unconditional love and kisses from our
children. There is no more precious possession anyone could hold.
You now have the choice, you can:
1) Pass this on to your friends
2) Delete it and act like it didn't touch your heart
A
Valentine Story
As I walked home one freezing day,
I stumbled on a wallet someone had lost in
the street. I picked it up and looked inside
to find some identification so I
could call the owner. But the wallet
contained only three dollars and a
crumpled letter that looked as if
it had been in there for years.
The envelope was worn and the only thing that
was legible on it was the return
address. I started to open the letter,
hoping to find some clue. Then I saw
the dateline--1924. The letter had been written
almost sixty years ago.
It was written in a beautiful feminine handwriting
on powder blue stationery
with a little flower in the left-hand corner.
It was a "Dear John" letter that
told the recipient, whose name appeared to be
Michael, that the writer could
not see him any more because her mother forbade i
t. Even so, she wrote that
she would always love him. It was signed, Hannah.
It was a beautiful letter, but there was no way,
except for the name Michael,
that the owner could be identified.
Maybe if I called information, the
operator could find a phone listing for the address
on the envelope.
"Operator," I began, "this is an unusual request.
I'm trying to find the owner
of a wallet that I found. Is there anyway you can tell
me if there is a phone
number for an address that was on an envelope i
n the wallet?"
She suggested I speak with her supervisor,
who hesitated for a moment then
said, "Well, there is a phone listing at that address,
but I can't give you
the number." She said, as a courtesy,
she would call that number, explain my
story and would ask them if they wanted her
to connect me. I waited a few
minutes and then she was back on the line.
"I have a party who will speak with
you."
I asked the woman on the other end of the line
if she knew anyone by the name
of Hannah. She gasped,
"Oh! We bought this house from a family who had a
daughter named Hannah. But that was 30 years ago!"
"Would you know where that family could be
located now?" I asked.
"I remember that Hannah had to place her mother
in a nursing home some years
ago," the woman said. "Maybe if you got in touch
with them they might be able
to track down the daughter."
She gave me the name of the nursing home
and I called the number. They told me
the old lady had passed away some years ago
but they did have a phone number
for where they thought the daughter might be living.
I thanked them and phoned. The woman who answered
explained that Hannah
herself was now living in a nursing home.
This whole thing was stupid, I thought to myself.
Why was I making such a big
deal over finding the owner of a wallet that had
only three dollars and a
letter that was almost 60 years old?
Nevertheless, I called the nursing home in which
Hannah was supposed to be
living and the man who answered the phone told me,
"Yes, Hannah is staying with us. "
Even though it was already 10 p.m.,
I asked if I could come by to see her.
"Well," he said hesitatingly,
"if you want to take a chance, she might be in
the day room watching television."
I thanked him and drove over to the nursing home.
The night nurse and a guard
greeted me at the door. We went up to the
third floor of the large building.
In the day room, the nurse introduced me to Hannah.
She was a sweet, silver-
haired old timer with a warm smile and a twinkle
in her eye.
I told her about finding the wallet and showed her the letter.
The second she
saw the powder blue envelope with that little flower
on the left, she took a deep breath and said,
"Young man, this letter was the last contact I ever had
with Michael."
She looked away for a moment deep in thought
and then said softly, "I loved
him very much. But I was only 16 at the time
and my mother felt I was too
young. Oh, he was so handsome.
He looked like Sean Connery, the actor."
"Yes," she continued. "Michael Goldstein was
a wonderful person. If you should
find him, tell him I think of him often.
And," she hesitated for a moment,
almost biting her lip, "tell him I still love him. You know,"
she said smiling
as tears began to well up in her eyes,
"I never did marry. I guess no one ever
matched up to Michael. . ."
I thanked Hannah and said goodbye.
I took the elevator to the first floor and
as I stood by the door, the guard there asked,
"Was the old lady able to help you?"
I told him she had given me a lead.
"At least I have a last name. But I think
I'll let it go for a while.
I spent almost the whole day trying to find the
owner of this wallet."
I had taken out the wallet, which was a simple
brown leather case with red
lacing on the side. When the guard saw it,
he said, "Hey, wait a minute!
That's Mr. Goldstein's wallet. I'd know it anywhere
with that bright red
lacing. He's always losing that wallet.
I must have found it in the halls at
least three times."
"Who's Mr. Goldstein?" I asked as my hand began to
shake.
"He's one of the old timers on the 8th floor.
That's Mike Goldstein's wallet
for sure. He must have lost it on one of his walks."
I thanked the guard and quickly ran back
to the nurse's office. I told her
what the guard had said. We went back to the elevator
and got on. I prayed that Mr. Goldstein would be up.
On the eighth floor, the floor nurse said,
"I think he's still in the day
room. He likes to read at night. He's a darling old man."
We went to the only room that had any lights on
and there was a man reading a
book. The nurse went over to him and asked
if he had lost his wallet. Mr.
Goldstein looked up with surprise,
put his hand in his back pocket and said,
"Oh, it is missing!"
"This kind gentleman found a wallet
and we wondered if it could be yours?"
I handed Mr. Goldstein the wallet and the second
he saw it, he smiled with
relief and said, "Yes, that's it! It must have dropped
out of my pocket this
afternoon. I want to give you a reward."
"No, thank you," I said. "But I have to tell you
something.
I read the letter
in the hope of finding out who owned the wallet."
The smile on his face suddenly disappeared.
"You read that letter?"
"Not only did I read it, I think I know where Hannah is."
He suddenly grew pale. "Hannah? You know where she is?
How is she? Is she
still as pretty as she was? Please, please tell me,"
he begged.
"She's fine...just as pretty as when you knew her."
I said softly.
The old man smiled with anticipation and asked, "
Could you tell me where she
is? I want to call her tomorrow."
He grabbed my hand and said, "You know
something, mister, I was so in love with that girl
that when that letter came,
my life literally ended. I never married.
I guess I've always loved her. "
"Michael," I said, "Come with me."
We took the elevator down to the third floor.
The hallways were darkened and
only one or two little night-lights lit our way
to the day room where Hannah
was sitting alone watching the television.
The nurse walked over to her.
"Hannah," she said softly, pointing to Michael,
who was waiting with me in the
doorway. "Do you know this man?"
She adjusted her glasses, looked for a moment,
but didn't say a word. Michael
said softly, almost in a whisper,
"Hannah, it's Michael. Do you remember me?"
She gasped, "Michael! I don't believe it! Michael!
It's you! My Michael!" He
walked slowly towards her and they embraced.
The nurse and I left with tears
streaming down our faces.
"See," I said. "See how the Good Lord works!
If it's meant to be, it will be."
About three weeks later I got a call at my office
from the nursing home. "Can
you break away on Sunday to attend a wedding?
Michael and Hannah are going to
tie the knot!"
It was a beautiful wedding with all the people
at the nursing home dressed up
to join in the celebration. Hannah wore a light beige dress
and looked
beautiful. Michael wore a dark blue suit
and stood tall. They made me their
best man.
The hospital gave them their own room and if you ever
wanted to see a 76-year-
old bride and a 79-year-old groom acting like two teenagers,
you had to see this couple.
A perfect ending for a love affair that had lasted nearly 60
years.
Pen Pal Love
John Blanchard stood up from the bench, straightened his Army
uniform, and studied the crowd of people making their way through
Grand Central Station. He looked for the girl whose heart he
knew, but whose face he didn't, the girl with the rose. His interest
in her had begun thirteen months before in a Florida library.
Taking a book off the shelf he found himself intrigued, not with
the words of the book, but with the notes penciled in the margin.
The soft handwriting reflected a thoughtful soul and insightful
mind. In the front of the book, he discovered the previous owner's
name, Miss Hollis Maynell. With time and effort he located her
address. She lived in New York City. He wrote her a letter introducing
himself and inviting her to correspond. The next day he was shipped
overseas for service in World War II.
Du ring the n e x t year and one month the two grew to know eac h
other through the mail. Each letter was a seed falling on a fertile
heart. A romance was budding. Blanchard requested a photograph,
but she refused. She felt that if he really cared, it wouldn't
matter what she looked like.
When the day finally came for him to return from Europe, they
scheduled their first meeting - 7:00 PM at the Grand Central
Station in New York. "You'll recognize me," she wrote,
"by the red rose I'll be wearing on my lapel."
So at 7:00 he was in the station looking for a girl whose heart
he loved, but whose face he'd never seen. I'll let Mr. Blanchard
tell you what happened:
A young woman was coming toward me, her figure long and slim.
Her blonde hair lay back in curls from her delicate ears; her
eyes were blue as flowers. Her lips and chin had a gentle firmness,
and in her pale green suit she was like springtime come alive.
I started toward her, entirely forgetting to notice that she
was not wearing a rose.
As I moved, a small, provocative smile curved her lips. "Going
my way, sailor?" she murmured. Almost uncontrollably I made
one step closer to her, and then I saw Hollis Maynell. She was
standing almost directly behind the girl. A woman well past 40,
she had graying hair tucked under a worn hat.. She was more than
plump, her thick-ankled feet thrust into low-heeled shoes.
The girl in the green suit was walking quickly away. I felt as
though I was split in two, so keen was my desire to follow her,
and yet so deep was my longing for the woman whose spirit had
truly companioned me and upheld my own. And there she stood.
Her pale, plump face was gentle and sensible, her gray eyes had
a warm and kindly twinkle. I did not hesitate. My fingers gripped
the small worn blue leather copy of the book that was to identify
me to her.
This would not be love, but it would be something precious, something
perhaps even better than love, a friendship for which I had been
and must ever be grateful. I squared my shoulders and saluted
and held out the book to the woman, even though while I spoke
I felt choked by the bitterness of my disappointment. "I'm
Lieutenant John Blanchard, and you must be Miss Maynell. I am
so glad you could meet me; may I take you to dinner?"
The woman's face broadened into a tolerant smile. "I don't
know what this is about, son," she answered, "but the
young lady in the green suit who just went by, she begged me
to wear this rose on my coat. And she said if you were to ask
me out to dinner, I should go and tell you that she is waiting
for you in the big restaurant across the street. She said it
was some kind of test!"
It's not difficult to understand and admire Miss Maynell's wisdom.
The true nature of a heart is seen in its response to the unattractive.
Acceptance
I have recently completed my college degree. The last class I
had to take was Sociology. The teacher was absolutely inspiring
with the qualities that I wish every human being had been graced
with. Her last project of the term was called "Smile."
The class was asked to go out and smile at three people and document
their reaction.
I am a very friendly person and always smile at everyone and
say, hello anyway..... so, I thought, this would be a piece of
cake, literally. Soon after we were assigned the project, my
husband, youngest son, and I went out to McDonalds, one crisp
March morning. It was just our way of sharing special play time
with our son. We were standing in line, waiting to be served,
when all of a sudden everyone around us began to back away, and
then even my husband did. I did not move an inch...an overwhelming
feeling of panic welled up inside of me as I turned to see why
they had moved. As I turned around I smelled a horrible "dirty
body" smell...and there standing behind me were two poor
homeless men.
As I looked down at the short gentleman, close to me, he was
"smiling". His beautiful sky blue eyes were full of
God's Light as he searched for acceptance. He said, "Good
day" as he counted the few coins he had been clutching.
The second man fumbled with his hands as he stood behind his
friend. I realized the second man was mentally deficient and
the blue eyed gentle man was his salvation. I held my tears....as
I stood there with them.
The young lady at the counter asked him what they wanted. He
said, "Coffee is all Miss" because that was all they
could afford to sit in the restaurant and warm up, they had to
buy something...they just wanted to be warm).
Then I really felt it...the compulsion as so great I almost reached
out and embraced the little man with the blue eyes. That is when
I noticed all eyes in the restaurant were set on me...judging
my every action. I smiled and asked the young lady behind the
counter to give me two more breakfast meals on a separate tray.
I then walked around the corner to the table that the men had
chosen as a resting spot. I put the tray on the table and laid
my hand on the blue eyed gentleman's cold hand. He looked up
at me, with tears in his eyes, and said, "Thank you."
I leaned over, began to pat his hand and said,"I did not
do this for you...God is here working through me to give you
hope."
I started to cry as I walked away to join my husband and son.
When I sat down my husband smiled at me and said, "That
is why God gave you to me honey....to give me hope." We
held hands for a moment and at that time we knew that only because
of the Grace that we had been given that we were able to give.
We are not church goers but we are believers.
That day showed me the pure Light of God's sweet love.
I returned to college, on the last evening of class, with this
story in hand. I turned in "my project" and the instructor
read it....then she looked up at me and said, "Can I share
this?" I slowly nodded as she got the attention of the class.
She began to read and that is when I knew that we, as human beings
and being part of God, share this need to heal people and be
healed. In my own way I had touched the people at McDonalds,
my husband, son, instructor, and every soul that shared
the classroom on the last night I spent as a college student.
I graduated with one of the biggest lessons I would ever learn....
UNCONDITIONAL ACCEPTANCE. Much love and compassion sent to each
and every person who may read this and learn how to....
LOVE PEOPLE AND USE THINGS:
NOT LOVE THINGS AND USE PEOPLE.
