amazing love stories

All Over by: Guy de Maupassant

2008-10-26T00:55:00.001+05:30

Comte de Lormerin had just finished dressing. He cast a parting glance at the large mirror which occupied an entire panel in his dressing-room and smiled.
He was really a fine-looking man still, although quite gray. Tall, slight, elegant, with no sign of a paunch, with a small mustache of doubtful shade, which might be called fair, he had a walk, a nobility, a "chic," in short, that indescribable something which establishes a greater difference between two men than would millions of money. He murmured:
"Lormerin is still alive!"
And he went into the drawing-room where his correspondence awaited him.
On his table, where everything had its place, the work table of the gentleman who never works, there were a dozen letters lying beside three newspapers of different opinions. With a single touch he spread out all these letters, like a gambler giving the choice of a card; and he scanned the handwriting, a thing he did each morning before opening the envelopes.
It was for him a moment of delightful expectancy, of inquiry and vague anxiety. What did these sealed mysterious letters bring him? What did they contain of pleasure, of happiness, or of grief? He surveyed them with a rapid sweep of the eye, recognizing the writing, selecting them, making two or three lots, according to what he expected from them. Here, friends; there, persons to whom he was indifferent; further on, strangers. The last kind always gave him a little uneasiness. What did they want from him? What hand had traced those curious characters full of thoughts, promises, or threats?
This day one letter in particular caught his eye. It was simple, nevertheless, without seeming to reveal anything; but he looked at it uneasily, with a sort of chill at his heart. He thought: "From whom can it be? I certainly know this writing, and yet I can't identify it."
He raised it to a level with his face, holding it delicately between two fingers, striving to read through the envelope, without making up his mind to open it.
Then he smelled it, and snatched up from the table a little magnifying glass which he used in studying all the niceties of handwriting. He suddenly felt unnerved. "Whom is it from? This hand is familiar to me, very familiar. I must have often read its tracings, yes, very often. But this must have been a long, long time ago. Whom the deuce can it be from? Pooh! it's only somebody asking for money."
And he tore open the letter. Then he read:
My Dear Friend: You have, without doubt, forgotten me, for it is now twenty-five years since we saw each other. I was young; I am old. When I bade you farewell, I left Paris in order to follow into the provinces my husband, my old husband, whom you used to call "my hospital." Do you remember him? He died five years ago, and now I am returning to Paris to get my daughter married, for I have a daughter, a beautiful girl of eighteen, whom you have never seen. I informed you of her birth, but you certainly did not pay much attention to so trifling an event.
You are still the handsome Lormerin; so I have been told. Well if you still recollect little Lise, whom you used to call Lison, come and dine with her this evening, with the elderly Baronne de Vance, your ever faithful friend, who, with some emotion, although happy, reaches out to you a devoted hand, which you must clasp, but no longer kiss, my poor Jaquelet.
Lise de Vance.
Lormerin's heart began to throb. He remained sunk in his armchair with the letter on his knees, staring straight before him, overcome by a poignant emotion that made the tears mount up to his eyes! If he had ever loved a woman in his life it was this one, little Lise, Lise de Vance, whom he called "Ashflower," on account of the strange color of her hair and the pale gray of her eyes. Oh! what a dainty, pretty, charming creature she was, this frail baronne, the wife of that gouty, pimply baron, who had abruptly carried her off to the provinces, shut her up, kept her in seclusion through jealousy, jealousy of the handsome Lormerin.
Yes, he had loved her, and he believed that he, too, had been truly loved. She familiarly gave him the name of Jaquelet, and would pronounce that word in a delicious fashion.
A thousand forgotten memories came back to him, far off and sweet and melancholy now. One evening she had called on him on her way home from a ball, and they went for a stroll in the Bois de Boulogne, she in evening dress, he in his dressing-jacket. It was springtime; the weather was beautiful. The fragrance from her bodice embalmed the warm air--the odor of her bodice, and perhaps, too, the fragrance of her skin. What a divine night! When they reached the lake, as the moon's rays fell across the branches into the water, she began to weep. A little surprised, he asked her why.
She replied:
"I don't know. The moon and the water have affected me. Every time I see poetic things I have a tightening at the heart, and I have to cry."
He smiled, affected himself, considering her feminine emotion charming--the unaffected emotion of a poor little woman whom every sensation overwhelms. And he embraced her passionately, stammering:
"My little Lise, you are exquisite."
What a charming love affair, short-lived and dainty, it had been and over all too quickly, cut short in the midst of its ardor by this old brute of a baron, who had carried off his wife, and never let any one see her afterward.
Lormerin had forgotten, in fact, at the end of two or three months. One woman drives out another so quickly in Paris, when one is a bachelor! No matter; he had kept a little altar for her in his heart, for he had loved her alone! He assured himself now that this was so.
He rose, and said aloud: "Certainly, I will go and dine with her this evening!"
And instinctively he turned toward the mirror to inspect himself from head to foot. He reflected: "She must look very old, older than I look." And he felt gratified at the thought of showing himself to her still handsome, still fresh, of astonishing her, perhaps of filling her with emotion, and making her regret those bygone days so far, far distant!
He turned his attention to the other letters. They were of no importance.
The whole day he kept thinking of this ghost of other days. What was she like now? How strange it was to meet in this way after twenty-five years! But would he recognize her?
He made his toilet with feminine coquetry, put on a white waistcoat, which suited him better with the coat than a black one, sent for the hairdresser to give him a finishing touch with the curling iron, for he had preserved his hair, and started very early in order to show his eagerness to see her.
The first thing he saw on entering a pretty drawing-room newly furnished was his own portrait, an old faded photograph, dating from the days when he was a beau, hanging on the wall in an antique silk frame.
He sat down and waited. A door opened behind him. He rose up abruptly, and, turning round, beheld an old woman with white hair who extended both hands toward him.
He seized them, kissed them one after the other several times; then, lifting up his head, he gazed at the woman he had loved.
Yes, it was an old lady, an old lady whom he did not recognize, and who, while she smiled, seemed ready to weep.
He could not abstain from murmuring:
"Is it you, Lise?"
She replied:
"Yes, it is I; it is I, indeed. You would not have known me, would you? I have had so much sorrow--so much sorrow. Sorrow has consumed my life. Look at me now--or, rather, don't look at me! But how handsome you have kept--and young! If I had by chance met you in the street I would have exclaimed: 'Jaquelet!' Now, sit down and let us, first of all, have a chat. And then I will call my daughter, my grown-up daughter. You'll see how she resembles me--or, rather, how I resembled her--no, it is not quite that; she is just like the 'me' of former days--you shall see! But I wanted to be alone with you first. I feared that there would be some emotion on my side, at the first moment. Now it is all over; it is past. Pray be seated, my friend."
He sat down beside her, holding her hand; but he did not know what to say; he did not know this woman--it seemed to him that he had never seen her before. Why had he come to this house? What could he talk about? Of the long ago? What was there in common between him and her? He could no longer recall anything in presence of this grandmotherly face. He could no longer recall all the nice, tender things, so sweet, so bitter, that had come to his mind that morning when he thought of the other, of little Lise, of the dainty Ashflower. What, then, had become of her, the former one, the one he had loved? That woman of far-off dreams, the blonde with gray eyes, the young girl who used to call him "Jaquelet" so prettily?
They remained side by side, motionless, both constrained, troubled, profoundly ill at ease.
As they talked only commonplaces, awkwardly and spasmodically and slowly, she rose and pressed the button of the bell.
"I am going to call Renée," she said.
There was a tap at the door, then the rustle of a dress; then a young voice exclaimed:
"Here I am, mamma!"
Lormerin remained bewildered as at the sight of an apparition.
He stammered:
"Good-day, mademoiselle."
Then, turning toward the mother:
"Oh! it is you!"
In fact, it was she, she whom he had known in bygone days, the Lise who had vanished and come back! In her he found the woman he had won twenty-five years before. This one was even younger, fresher, more childlike.
He felt a wild desire to open his arms, to clasp her to his heart again, murmuring in her ear:
"Good-morning, Lison!"
A man-servant announced:
"Dinner is ready, madame."
And they proceeded toward the dining-room.
What passed at this dinner? What did they say to him, and what could he say in reply? He found himself plunged in one of those strange dreams which border on insanity. He gazed at the two women with a fixed idea in his mind, a morbid, self-contradictory idea:
"Which is the real one?"
The mother smiled, repeating over and over again:
"Do you remember?" And it was in the bright eyes of the young girl that he found again his memories of the past. Twenty times he opened his mouth to say to her: "Do you remember, Lison?" forgetting this white-haired lady who was looking at him tenderly.
And yet, there were moments when he no longer felt sure, when he lost his head. He could see that the woman of to-day was not exactly the woman of long ago. The other one, the former one, had in her voice, in her glances, in her entire being, something which he did not find again. And he made prodigious efforts of mind to recall his lady love, to seize again what had escaped from her, what this resuscitated one did not possess.
The baronne said:
"You have lost your old vivacity, my poor friend."
He murmured:
"There are many other things that I have lost!"
But in his heart, touched with emotion, he felt his old love springing to life once more, like an awakened wild beast ready to bite him.
The young girl went on chattering, and every now and then some familiar intonation, some expression of her mother's, a certain style of speaking and thinking, that resemblance of mind and manner which people acquire by living together, shook Lormerin from head to foot. All these things penetrated him, making the reopened wound of his passion bleed anew.
He got away early, and took a turn along the boulevard. But the image of this young girl pursued him, haunted him, quickened his heart, inflamed his blood. Apart from the two women, he now saw only one, a young one, the old one come back out of the past, and he loved her as he had loved her in bygone years. He loved her with greater ardor, after an interval of twenty-five years.
He went home to reflect on this strange and terrible thing, and to think what he should do.
But, as he was passing, with a wax candle in his hand, before the glass, the large glass in which he had contemplated himself and admired himself before he started, he saw reflected there an elderly, gray-haired man; and suddenly he recollected what he had been in olden days, in the days of little Lise. He saw himself charming and handsome, as he had been when he was loved! Then, drawing the light nearer, he looked at himself more closely, as one inspects a strange thing with a magnifying glass, tracing the wrinkles, discovering those frightful ravages, which he had not perceived till now.
And he sat down, crushed at the sight of himself, at the sight of his lamentable image, murmuring:
"All over, Lormerin!"

Across The Way By Robert Grant

2008-10-26T00:53:00.001+05:30

The news that the late Mr. Cherrington's house on Saville Street had been let for a school, within a few months after his death, could not have been a surprise to any one in the neighborhood. Ten years before, when Mr. Cherrington and those prominent in his generation were in their heyday, Saville Street had been sacred to private residences from one end to the other, but the tide of fashion had been drifting latterly. There was already another school in the same block, and there were scattered all along on either side of the street a sprinkling of throat, eye, and ear doctors, a very fashionable dressmaker or two, an up-town bank, and numerous apartments for bachelors.
The news could not have been a surprise even to Mr. Homer Ramsay, but that crusty old bachelor in the seventies brought down his walking-stick with a vicious thump when he heard it, and remarked that he would live to be ninety "if only to spite 'em." This threat, however, had reference, not to Mr. Cherrington's residence, but his own, which was exactly opposite, and which he had occupied for more than forty years. It was a conviction of Mr. Ramsay's that there was a conspiracy on foot to purchase his house, and accordingly he took every opportunity to declare that he would never part with an inch of his land while he was in the flesh. A wag in the neighborhood had expressed the opinion that the old gentleman waxed hale and hearty on his own bile. He was certainly a churlish individual in his general bearing toward his fellow-beings, and violent in his prejudices. For the last ten years his favorite prophecy had been that the country was going to the devil.
Besides the house on Saville Street, Mr. Ramsay had some bonds and stock--fifty or sixty thousand dollars in all--which tidy little property would, in the natural course of events, descend to his next of kin; in this case, however, only a first cousin once removed. In the eye of the law a living person has no heir; but blood is thicker than water, and it was generally taken for granted that Mr. Horace Barker, whose grandmother had been the sister of Mr. Ramsay's father, would some day be the owner of the house on Saville Street. At least, confident expectation that this would come to pass had long restrained Mr. Barker from letting any one but his better half know that he regarded his Cousin Homer as an irascible old curmudgeon; and perhaps, on the other hand, had justified Mr. Ramsay in his own mind for referring in common parlance to his first cousin once removed as a stiff nincompoop who had married a sickly doll. Not that Mr. Horace Barker needed the money, by any means. He was well-to-do already, and lived in a more fashionable street than Saville Street, where he occupied a dignified-looking brown-stone house, from the windows of which his three little people--all girls--peeped and nodded at the organ-grinder and the street-band.
The name of the person to whom Mr. Cherrington's house had been leased was Miss Elizabeth Whyte. She was twenty-five, and she was starting a school because it was necessary for her to earn her own living. She considered that life, from the point of view of happiness, was over for her; and yet, though she had made up her mind that she could never be really happy again, she was resolved neither to mope nor to be a burden on any one. Mr. Mills, the executor of Mr. Cherrington's estate, who believed himself to be a judge of human nature withal, had observed that she seemed a little overwrought, as though she had lived on her nerves; but, on the other hand, he had been impressed by her direct, business-like manner, which argued that she was very much in earnest. Besides, she was vouched for by the best people, and Mrs. Cyrus Bangs was moving heaven and earth to procure pupils for her. It was clearly his duty as a business man to let her have the house.
Until within a few months Elizabeth Whyte had lived in a neighboring town--the seat of a college, where the minds of young men for successive generations have been cultivated, but sometimes at the expense of a long-suffering local community. Her father, who at the time of her birth was a clergyman with a parish, had subsequently evolved into an agnostic and an invalid without one, and she had been used to plain living and high thinking from her girlhood. Even parents who find it difficult to keep the wolf at a respectful distance by untiring economy will devise some means to make an only daughter look presentable on her first appearance in society. Fine feathers do not make fine birds, and yet the consciousness of a becoming gown will irradiate the cheek of beauty. Elizabeth at eighteen would have been fetching in any dress, but in each of her three new evening frocks she looked bewitching. She was a gay, trig little person, with snapping, dark eyes and an arch expression; a tireless dancer, quick and audacious at repartee; the very ideal of a college belle. The student world had fallen prostrate at her feet, and Tom Whittemore most conspicuously and devotedly of all.
Tom was, perhaps, the most popular man of his day; a Philadelphian of reputedly superfine stock, fresh-faced and athletic, with a jaunty walk. There was no one at the college assemblies who whispered so entrancingly in her ear when she was all alone with him in a corner, and no one who placed her new fleecy wrap about her shoulders with such an air of devotion when it was time to go home. She liked him from the very first; and all her girl friends babbled, "Wouldn't it be a lovely match?" But Tom's classmates from Philadelphia, when they became confidential in the small hours of the morning, asked each other what Tom's mother would say. Tom was a senior, and it was generally assumed that matters would culminate on Class-day evening, that evening of all evenings in the collegiate world sacred to explanation and vows. Elizabeth lay awake all that night, remembering that she had let Tom have his impetuous say, and that at the end he had folded her in his arms and kissed her. Not until the next morning, and then merely as an unimportant fact, did it occur to her that, though Tom had told her she was dearer to him than all the world besides, there was no definite engagement between them. It was only when whispers reached her that Tom, who had gone to Philadelphia to attend the wedding of a relation, was not coming back to his Commencement, that she began to think a little. But she never really doubted until the news came that Tom had been packed off by his mother on a two years' journey round the world.
What mother in a distant city would be particularly pleased to have her only son, on whom rested the hopes of an illustrious stock, lose his heart to a college belle? But Elizabeth can scarcely be blamed for not having taken the illustrious stock into consideration. She kept saying to herself, that, if he had only written, she could have forgiven him; and it was not surprising that the partners with whom she danced at the college assemblies during the next five years described her to each other as steely. Indeed, she danced and prattled with such vivacious energy, and her black eyes shone so like beads, that college tradition twisted her story until it ran that she had thrown over Tom Whittemore, the most popular man of his day, and that she had no more heart than a nether millstone. And all the time, just to prove to herself that she had not cared for him, she kept the roses that he had given her on that Class-day evening in the secret drawer of her work-box. It had been all sheer nonsense, a boy and girl flirtation. So she had taught herself to argue, knowing that it was untrue, and knowing that she knew it to be so.
Then had come the deaths of her father and mother within three months of each other, and she had awakened one morning to the consciousness that she was alone in the world, and face to face with the necessity of earning her daily bread. The gentleman who had charge of the few thousand dollars belonging to her father's estate, in announcing that her bonds had ceased to pay interest, had added that she was in the same boat with many of the best people; which ought to have been a consolation, had she needed any. But this loss of the means of living had seemed a mere trifle beside her other griefs; indeed, it acted as a spur rather than a bludgeon. The same pride which had prompted her to continue to dance bade her bestir herself to make a living. Upon reflection, the plan of starting a school struck her as the most practicable. But it should be a school for girls; she had done with the world of men. She had loved with all her heart, and her heart was broken; it was withered, like the handful of dried roses in the secret drawer of her work-box.
* * * * *
Elizabeth was fortunate enough to obtain at the outset the patronage of some of those same "best people" in the adjacent city, who happened to know her story. Fashionable favor grows apace. It was only after hearing that Mrs. Cyrus Bangs had intrusted her little girl to the tender mercies of Miss Whyte that Mrs. Horace Barker subdued the visions of scarlet-fever, bad air, and evil communications which haunted her, sufficiently to be willing to send her own darlings to the new kindergarten. People intimate with Mrs. Barker were apt to say that worry over her three little girls, who were exceptionally healthy children, kept her a nervous invalid.
"I consider Mrs. Cyrus Bangs a very particular woman," she said, with plaintive impressiveness to her husband. "If she is willing to send her Gwendolen to Miss Whyte, I am disposed to let Margery, Gladys, and Dorothy go. Only you must have a very clear understanding with Miss Whyte, at the outset, as to hours and ventilation and Gladys's hot milk. We cannot move from the seaside until a fortnight after her term begins, and it will be utterly impossible for me to get the children to school in the mornings before half-past nine."
It never occurred to Horace Barker, when one morning about ten o'clock, some six weeks later, he called at the kindergarten with his precious trio, that there was any impropriety in breaking in upon Miss Whyte's occupations an hour after school had begun. What school-mistress could fail to be proud of the distinction of obtaining his three daughters as pupils at any hour of the twenty-four when he saw fit to proffer them? He expected to find a cringing, deferential young person, who would, in the interest of her own bread and butter, accede without a murmur to any stipulations which so important a patroness as Mrs. Horace Barker might see fit to impose. He became conscious, in the first place, that the school-mistress was a much more attractive-looking young person than he had anticipated, and secondly, that she seemed rather amused than otherwise at his conditions. No man, and least of all a man so consummate as Mr. Barker--for he was a dapper little person with a closely cropped beard and irreproachable kid gloves--likes to be laughed at by a woman, especially by one who is young and moderately good-looking; and he instinctively drew himself up by way of protest before Elizabeth spoke.
"Really, Mr. Barker," she replied, after a few moments of reflection, "I don't see how it is possible for me to carry out Mrs. Barker's wishes. To let the children come half an hour later and go home half an hour earlier than the rest would interfere with the proper conduct of the school. I will do my best to have the ventilation satisfactory, and perhaps I can manage to provide some hot milk for the second one, as her mother desires; but in the matter of the hours, I do not see how I can accommodate Mrs. Barker. To make such an exception would be entirely contrary to my principles."
Horace Barker smiled inwardly at the suggestion that a school-mistress could have principles which an influential parent might not violate.
"When I say to you that it is Mrs. Barker's particular desire that her preferences regarding hours should be observed, I am sure that you will interpose no further objection."
Elizabeth gave a strange little laugh, and her eyes, which were still her most salient feature, snapped noticeably. "It is quite out of the question, Mr. Barker," she said with decision. "Much as I should like to have your little girls, I cannot consent to break my rules on their account."
"Mrs. Barker would be very sorry to be compelled to send her children elsewhere," he said solemnly, with the air of one who utters a dire threat.
"I should be glad to teach your little girls upon the same terms as I do my other pupils," said Elizabeth, quietly. "But if my regulations are unsatisfactory, you had better send them elsewhere."
Horace Barker was a man who prided himself on his deportment. He would no more have condescended to express himself with irate impetuosity than he would have permitted his closely cropped beard to exceed the limits which he imposed upon it. He simply bowed stiffly, and turning to the Misses Barker, who, under the supervision of a nurse, whom they had been taught to address by her patronymic Thompson instead of by her Christian name Bridget, had been open-mouthed listeners to the dialogue, said, "Come, children."
It so happened that as Mr. Horace Barker and the Misses Barker descended the steps of the late Mr. Cherrington's house, they came plump upon Mr. Homer Ramsay, who was taking his morning stroll. The old gentleman was standing leaning on his cane, glaring across the street; and, by way of acknowledging that he perceived his first cousin once removed, he raised the cane, and, pointing in the line of his scowling gaze, ejaculated:
"This street is going to perdition. As though it weren't enough to have a school opposite me, a fellow has had the impudence to put his doctor's sign right next door to my house--an oculist, he calls himself. In my day, a man who was fit to call himself a doctor could set a leg, or examine your eyes, or tell what was the matter with your throat, and not leave you so very much the wiser even then; but now there's a different kind of quack for every ache and pain in our bodies."
"We live in a progressive world, Cousin Homer," said Mr. Barker, placing his eyeglass astride his nose to examine the obnoxious sign across the way. "Dr. James Clay, Oculist," he read aloud, indifferently.
"Progressive fiddlesticks, Cousin Horace. A fig for your oculists and your dermatologists and all the rest of your specialists! I have managed to live to be seventy-five, and I never had anybody prescribe for me but a good old-fashioned doctor, thank Heaven! And I'm not dead yet, as the speculators who have their eyes on my house and are waiting for me to die will find out." Mr. Ramsay scowled ferociously; then casting a sweeping glance from under his eyebrows at the little girls, he said, "Cousin Horace, if your children don't have better health than their mother, they might as well be dead. Do they go there?" he asked, indicating the school-house with his cane.
"I am removing them this morning. Anabel had concluded to send them there, but I find that the young woman who is the teacher has such hoity-toity notions that I cannot consent to let my daughters remain with her. In my opinion, so arbitrary a young person should be checked; and my belief is that before many days she will find herself without pupils." Whereupon Mr. Barker proceeded on his way, muttering to himself, when at a safe distance, "Irrational old idiot!"
Mr. Ramsay stood for some moments mulling over his cousin's answer; by degrees his countenance brightened and he began to chuckle; and every now and then, in the course of his progress along Saville Street, he would stand and look back at the late Mr. Cherrington's house, as though it had acquired a new interest in his eyes. His daily promenade was six times up and six times down Saville Street; and he happened to complete the last lap, so to speak, of his sixth time down at the very moment when Miss Whyte's little girls came running out on the sidewalk for recess. Behind them appeared the school-mistress, who stood looking at her flock from the top of the stone flight.
Elizabeth knew the old gentleman by sight but not by name, and she was therefore considerably astonished to see him suddenly veer from his ordinary course, and come slowly up the steps.
"You're the school-mistress?" he asked, with the directness of an old man who feels that he need not mince his words.
"Yes, sir. I'm Miss Whyte."
"My name's Ramsay; Homer Ramsay. I live opposite, and I've come to tell you I admire your pluck in not letting my cousin, Horace Barker, put you down. I'll stand by you, too; you can tell him that. Break up your school? I should like to see him do it. Had to take his three little girls away, did he? Ho, ho! A grand good joke that; a grand good joke. What was it he asked you to do?"
"Mr. Barker wished me to change some of my rules about hours, and I was not able to accommodate him, that was all," answered Elizabeth, who found herself eminently puzzled by the interest in her affairs displayed by this strange visitor.
"I'll warrant he did. And you wouldn't make the change. A grand good joke that. I know him; he's my first cousin once removed, and the only relation I've left. And he is going to try and break up your school. I'd like to see him do it."
"I don't believe that Mr. Barker would do anything so unjust," said Elizabeth, flushing.
"Yes, he would. I had it from his own lips. But he shan't; not while I'm in the flesh. What did you say your name was?"
"Whyte--Elizabeth Whyte."
"And what made you become a school-teacher, I should like to know?"
"I had to earn my living."
"Humph! In my day, girls as pretty as you got married; but now the rich ones are those who get husbands, and those who are poor have to tend shop instead of baby."
"I know a number of girls who were poor, who have excellent husbands," said Elizabeth quietly, spurred into coming to the rescue of the sex she despised. "But," she added, "there are many girls nowadays who are poor who prefer to remain single." She was amused at having been led into so unusual a discussion with this queer old gentleman.
"Bah! That caps the climax. When pretty girls pretend that they don't wish to be married, the world is certainly turned upside down. Well, I like your spirit, though I don't approve of your methods. I just dropped in to say that if Horace Barker does cause you any trouble, you've a friend across the way. Good-morning."
And before Elizabeth could bethink herself to say that she was very much obliged to him, Mr. Ramsay was gone.
That very day after school, while Elizabeth was on her way across the park which lay between Saville Street and the section of the city where her rooms were, she dodged the wrong way in a narrow path, so that she ran plump into the arms of a young man who was walking in the opposite direction. Most women expect men to look out for them when they dodge, but Elizabeth's code did not allow her to put herself under obligations to any man. To tell the truth, she was in such a brown study over the events of the morning that she had become practically oblivious of her surroundings. When she recovered sufficiently from her confusion at her clumsiness to take in the details of the situation, she realized that the individual in question was a young man whom she was in the habit of passing daily at this same hour. Only the day before he had rescued her veil which had been swept away by a high wind; and here she was again, within twenty-four hours, forcing herself upon his attention. She, too, of all women, who had done with men forever!
But Elizabeth's confusion was slight compared with that manifested by her victim, who, notwithstanding that his hat had been jammed in by her school-bag (which she had raised as a shield), was so profuse in the utterance of his apologies and so willing to shoulder all responsibility, that her own sensibilities were speedily comforted. She found herself, after they had separated, much more engrossed by the fact that he had addressed her by name. Although they had been passing each other daily for over two months, it had never occurred to her to wonder who he might be. But it was evident that she was not unknown to him. She remembered now merely that he was a gentleman, and that he had intelligent eyes and a pleasant, deferential smile. The recollection of his blushing diffidence made her laugh.
On the following day, when they were about to pass as usual, she was suddenly confronted in her mind by the alternative whether to recognize him or not. A glance at him as he approached told her that he himself was evidently uncertain if she would choose to consider their experience of the previous day as equivalent to an introduction, and yet she noticed a certain wistfulness of expression which suggested the desire to be permitted to doff his hat to her. To acknowledge by a simple inclination of her head the existence of a man whom she was likely to pass every day seemed the natural thing to do, however unconventional; so she bowed.
"Good afternoon, Miss Whyte," he said, lifting his hat with a glad smile.
How completely our lives are often appropriated by incidents which seem at the time of but slight importance! For the next few months Elizabeth was buffeted as it were between the persistent persecution of Mr. Horace Barker and the persistent devotion of Mr. Homer Ramsay. With Mr. Barker she had no further interview, but not many weeks elapsed before the influence of malicious strictures and insinuations circulated by him concerning the hygienic arrangements of her school began to bear their natural fruit. Parents became querulous and suspicious; and when calumny was at its height, a case of scarlet-fever among her pupils threw consternation even into the soul of Mrs. Cyrus Bangs, her chief patroness. But, on the other hand, she soon realized that she possessed an ardent, if not altogether discreet, champion in her enemy's septuagenarian first cousin once removed, who sang her praises and fought her battles from one end of Saville Street to the other. Mr. Ramsay no longer railed against electric cars and specialists; all his fulminations were uttered against the malicious warfare which his Cousin Horace and that blood relative's sickly wife were waging against the charming little Miss Whyte, who had hired Mr. Cherrington's house across the way. What is more, he paid Elizabeth almost daily visits, during which, after he had discussed ways and means for confounding his vindictive kinsman, he was apt to declare that she ought to be married, and that it was a downright shame so pretty a girl should be condemned to drudgery because she lacked a dowry. This was a point on which the old gentleman never ceased to harp; and Elizabeth labored vainly to make him understand that teaching was a delight to her instead of a drudgery, and that she had not the remotest desire for a husband. And by way of proving how indifferent she was to the whole race of men, she continued to bow to the unknown stranger of her daily walk without making the slightest effort to discover his name.
Pneumonia, that deadly foe of hale and hearty septuagenarians, carried Mr. Homer Ramsay off within forty-eight hours in the first week of May. And very shortly after, Elizabeth received a letter from Mr. Mills, the lawyer, requesting her to call on a matter of importance. She supposed that it concerned her lease. Perhaps her enemy had bought the roof over her head.
Mr. Mills ushered her into his private office. Then opening a parchment envelope on his desk, he turned to her, and said: "I have the pleasure to inform you, Miss Whyte, that my client, the late Mr. Homer Ramsay, has left you the residuary legatee of his entire property--some fifty or sixty thousand dollars. Perhaps," he added, observing Elizabeth's bewildered expression, "you would like to read the will while I attend to a little matter in the other office. It is quite short, and straight as a string. I drew the instrument, and the testator knew what he was about just as well as you or I."
Mr. Mills, who, as you may remember, was a student of human nature, believed that Miss Whyte lived on her nerves, and he had therefore planned to leave her alone for a few moments to allow any hysterical tendency to exhaust itself. When he returned, he found her looking straight before her with the document in her lap.
"Is it all plain?" he asked kindly.
"Yes. But I don't understand exactly why he left it to me."
"Because he liked you, my dear. He had become very fond of you. And if you will excuse my saying so," he added, with a knowing smile, "he was very anxious to see you well married. He said that he wished to provide you with a suitable dowry."
"I see," said Elizabeth, coloring. She reflected for a moment, then looked up and said, "But I am free to use it as I see fit?"
"Absolutely. I may as well tell you now as any time, however," Mr. Mills added smoothly, "that Mr. Ramsay's cousin, Mr. Horace Barker, has expressed an intention to contest the will. He is the next of kin, though only a first cousin once removed."
Elizabeth started at the name, and drew herself up slightly.
"You need not give yourself the smallest concern in the matter," the lawyer continued. "If Mr. Barker were in needy circumstances or were a nearer relative, he might be able to make out a case, but no jury will hesitate between a first cousin once removed, amply rich in this world's goods, and a--a--pretty woman. I myself am ready to testify that Mr. Ramsay was completely in his right mind," he added, with professional dignity; "and as for the claim of undue influence, it is rubbish--sheer rubbish."
Elizabeth sat for a few moments without speaking. She seemed to pay no heed to several further reassuring remarks which Mr. Mills, who judged that she was appalled by the idea of a legal contest, hastened to let fall. At last she looked straight at him, and said with firmness, "I suppose that I am at liberty not to take this money, if I don't wish to?"
"At liberty? Bless my stars, Miss Whyte, anybody is at liberty to refuse a gift of fifty thousand dollars. But when you call to see me again, you will be laughing at the very notion of such a thing. Go home, my dear young lady, and leave the matter in my hands. Naturally you are overwrought at the prospect of going into court."
"It isn't that, Mr. Mills. I cannot take this money; I have no right to it. I am no relation to Mr. Ramsay, and the only reason he left it to me was--was because he thought it would help me to be married. Otherwise he would have left it to Mr. Barker. I have no intention of marrying, and I should not be willing to take a fortune under such circumstances."
"The will is perfectly legal, my dear. And as to marrying, you are free to remain single all your days, if you wish to," said Mr. Mills, with another knowing smile. "Indeed, you are overwrought."
Elizabeth shook her head. "I am sure that I shall never change my mind," she answered. "I could never take it."
Elizabeth slept little that night; but when she arose in the morning, she felt doubly certain that she had acted to her own satisfaction. What real right had she to this money? It was coming to her as the result of the fancy of an eccentric old man, who, in a moment of needless pity and passing interest, had made a will in her favor to the prejudice of his natural heir. Of what odds was it that that heir had ample means already, or even that he was her bitter enemy? Did not the very fact that he was her enemy and that she despised him make it impossible for her to take advantage of an old man's whim so as to rob him? She would have no lawsuit; he might keep the fifty thousand dollars, and she would go her way as though Mr. Homer Ramsay and Mr. Horace Barker had never existed. Mr. Ramsay had left her his money on the assumption that she would be able to marry. To have taken it knowing that she intended never to marry would have been to take it under false pretences.
Mr. Mills consoled himself after much additional expostulation with the reflection that if a woman is bent on making a fool of herself, the wisest man in the world is helpless to prevent her. He set himself at last to prepare the necessary papers which would put Mr. Horace Barker in possession of his cousin's property; and very shortly the act of signal folly, as he termed it, was completed. Tongues in the neighborhood wagged energetically for a few days; but presently the birth of twins in the next block distracted the public mind, and Elizabeth was allowed to resume the vocation of an inconspicuous schoolmistress. From the object of her bounty, Mr. Horace Barker, she heard nothing directly; but at least he had the grace to discontinue his persecutions. And parental confidence, which, in spite of scarlet-fever, had never been wholly lost, was manifested in the form of numerous applications to take pupils for the coming year. For the first time for many weeks Elizabeth was in excellent spirits and was looking forward to the summer vacation, now close at hand; during which she hoped to be able to fit herself more thoroughly for her duties after a few weeks of necessary rest.
One evening, about a fortnight before the date when the school was to close, she noticed that the print of her book seemed blurred; she turned the page and, perceiving the same effect, realized that her vision was impaired. On the following morning at school she noticed the same peculiarity whenever she looked at a book. She concluded that it was but a passing weakness, the result of having studied too assiduously at night. Still, recognizing that her eyes were all-important to her, she decided to consult an oculist at once. It would be a simple matter to do, for was there not one directly opposite in the house next to Mr. Ramsay's? The sign, Dr. James Clay, Oculist, had daily stared her in the face. She resolved to consult him that very day after school. To be sure she knew nothing about him individually, but she was aware that only doctors of the best class were to be found in Saville Street.
She was obliged to wait in an anteroom, as there were three or four patients ahead of her. When her turn came to be ushered into the doctor's office, she found herself suddenly in the presence of the unknown young man whom she was accustomed to meet daily on her way from school. Her impulse at recognizing him, though she could not have told why, was to slip away; but before she could move, he looked up from the table over which he was bent making a memorandum.
"Miss Whyte!" he exclaimed with pleased astonishment and some confusion, advancing to meet her. "In what way can I be of service to you?"
"Dr. Clay? I should like you to look at my eyes; they have been troubling me lately."
Elizabeth briefly detailed her symptoms. He listened with gravity, and then after requesting her to change her seat, he examined her eyes with absorbed attention. This took some minutes, and when he had finished there was something in his manner which prompted her to say:
"Of course you will tell me, Dr. Clay, exactly what is the matter."
"I am bound to do so," he said, slowly. "I wished to make perfectly sure, before saying that your eyes are quite seriously affected--not that there is danger of a loss of sight, if proper precautions are taken--but--but it will be absolutely necessary for you to abstain from using them in order to check the progress of the disease."
"I see," she said, quietly, after a brief silence. "Do you mean that I cannot teach school? I am a school-teacher."
"I knew that; and knowing it, I thought it best to tell you the whole truth. No, Miss Whyte; you must not use your eyes for at least a year, if you do not wish to lose your sight."
"I see," said Elizabeth again, with the hopeless air of one from whom the impossible is demanded. "I thank you, Dr. Clay, for telling me the truth," she added, simply. "Have I strained my eyes?"
"You have evidently overtaxed them a little; but the disease is primarily a disease of the nerves. Will you excuse me for asking if at any time within the last few years you have suffered a severe shock?"
"A shock?" Elizabeth hesitated an instant, and replied gently: "Yes; but it was a number of years ago."
"That would account for the case, nevertheless."
A few minutes later Elizabeth was walking along the street, face to face with despair. She had not been able to obtain permission from the doctor to use her eyes even during the ten days which remained before vacation. He had said that every moment of delay would make the cure more difficult. She must absolutely cease to look at a book for one whole year. It would be necessary at first for her to visit him for treatment two or three times a week. He had said--she remembered his exact words--"I cannot do a very great deal for you; we can rely only on time for that; but believe me, I shall endeavor to help you so far as it lies in human power. I hope that you will trust me--and--and come to me freely." Kind words these, but of what avail were they to answer the embarrassing question how she was to live? She must give up her school at least for a year; that seemed inevitable. How was she to earn her daily bread if she obeyed the doctor's orders? Would it not be better to use her eyes to the end, and trust to charity to send her to an infirmary when she became blind? Why had she been foolish enough to refuse Mr. Ramsay's property? But for a quixotic theory, she would not now have been at the world's mercy.
It was the sting of shame which this last thought aroused, following in the train of her bitter reasoning, that caused her to quicken her pace and clinch her hands. That same pride, which had been her ally hitherto, had come to her rescue once more. She said to herself that she had done what she knew was right, and that no force of cruel circumstances should induce her to regret that she had not acted differently. She would prove still that she was able to make her own way without assistance, even though she were obliged to scrub floors. A shock? The shock of a betrayed faith which had arrayed her soul in bitterness against mankind. Must she own that she was crushed? Not while she had an arm to toil and a heart to strive.
The next ten days were bitter ones. Elizabeth, after disbanding her school, began to plan and contrive for the future. Schemes bright with prospect suggested themselves, and faded into smoke at the touch of practicability. She had a few hundred dollars, which would enable her to live until she had been able to devise a plan, and she determined that the world should not think that she was discouraged. The world, and chiefly at the moment Dr. Clay, whose kindness and earnest attention during the visits which she paid him suggested that he felt great pity for her. Pity? She wished the pity of no man.
One evening while she was alone in her parlor, wrestling with her schemes, the maid entered and said that a gentleman wished to see her. A gentleman? She could think of none who would be likely to call upon her, but she bade the girl show him in; and a moment later she was greeting Dr. Clay. Presently, while she was wondering why he had come, she found herself listening to these words: "I am a stranger to you to all intents and purposes, but you are none to me. For months I have dogged your footsteps unknown to you, and haunted this house in my walks because I knew that you lived here. The memory of your face has sweetened my dreams, and those brief moments when we have passed each other daily have been sweeter than any paradise. I know the story of your struggle with that coward and of your noble act of renunciation. It cut into my heart like a knife to speak to you those necessary words the other day, and I have been miserable ever since. I said to myself at last that I would go to you and tell you that I could not be happy apart from you; and that your happiness was mine. This seems presumptuous, intrusive: I wish to be neither. I have merely come to ask that I may be free to call upon you and to try to make you love me. I am not rich, but my practice is such that I am able to offer you a home. Will you allow me to come to see you, at least to be your friend?"
The silence which followed this eager question seemed to demand an answer. Elizabeth, who had been sitting with bent head, looked up presently and answered with a sweet smile:
"I have no friends, Dr. Clay. I think it would be very pleasant to have one."
A few minutes later when he was gone, Elizabeth sat for some time without moving, with the same happy smile on her lips. He had asked nothing more and she had given him no greater assurance. Why was it that at last she buried her face in her hands and sobbed as though her bosom would break? Why was it, too, that before she went to bed that night she took a handful of withered flowers, mere dust and ashes, from the secret drawer of her work-box, and, wrapping them in the paper which had enclosed them, held them in the flame of the lamp until they were consumed? Why? Because love, unwatched for, unbidden had entered her heart, which she thought sere as the rose-leaves, and restored light to the sunshine and joy to the world.

short love story

2008-10-18T17:10:00.004+05:30

I was a very simple man who was never intrested in finding true love.All I wanted was money.My entire life had been spent studying very hard so that I can clear IIT-JEE(the most fiercely contested entrance exam in my country).I cleared it and after passing out from that institute I got a top notch job and was happy with my life.I felt as if I had everything I could desire for.One day I was hanging out with my friends when I saw a beautiful simple girl.At that time I was in New Delhi.At one moment I fell in love with her.But at that time I was walking on road and was watching nothing except that girl.I was hit by a car and was rushed to hospital.Thank God, the car had almost stopped before hitting me and I survived with only 2 fractures.
After that I spent 1 year finding her but it was useless.After that I lost all hope and when my company offered me to go to Mumbai,I accepted at once and left for Mumbai.My parents wanted me to get married but I had considered that mysterious girl as my wife.One night I was hanging out in a disco when I saw that girl with her friends in MUMBAI!!!!!Yes that's right,I saw her in Mumbai,in a pub.At once I wanted to befriend her.I first befriended one of her friends named Akanksha.Then I met her friend everyday and one day I told her that I was actually in love with her friend.She felt sad because I think she had started to love me.But she was a good person and at once gave me her phone number and told me that her name was Pooja.She also told me about a mall where I can meet Pooja the next day and told me that she would introduce me to Pooja.I felt extremely happy.The next day when I met Pooja,I was not able to speak a word and she thought that I was a psycho case.But then my meeting with Pooja incresed and she realized that I actually loved her.One day I decided to propose her.I bought an expensive ring and went upto her and proposed her.She declined and told me that she considered me as her friend and was not ready for marriage.I felt terribly sad and was about to cry.I turned away and thought that that actually I didn't deserve her.(She was very rich and I got a handsome salary but was still not able to buy a home.She was extremely beautiful,whereas I was the exact definition of ugly.She was a model and was earning much more than what I could even dream of.) But when I turned back she was there holding a rose and said sorry for hurting me.She said that she loved me and knew that even I loved her and was just joking a bit.We finally got married and today is our first wedding anniversary.We have had some usual fights but are extremely happy with each other.
-Rahul

Unspoken feelings-A true story by Wei Er

2008-07-30T21:49:00.001+05:30

Thoughts of her will still make me well up with tears despite that she has already passed away for 4 years, the pain of losing her, the unspoken feelings I had for her… It was during my secondary school days that I got to know her, I was 16, and she was 14. We were introduced to each other by a mutual friend. Being courteous I stood up and offer a handshake, introducing myself. She was like the others, laughing at my weird name.Soon we were spending time together despite that we spoke very little to each other. And I realized that we had quite a number of mutual friends. Over time my feelings for her developed, her smile, and her sweetness attracted me a lot. She became my source of motivation, for I strive hard in my studies. From scoring borderline marks for all subjects to a top scorer in my class. Due to being small size, I was often bullied by my classmates; going to school became rather depressing. But she changed it all, I looked forward to our meetings at the library after classes ended.One day when I couldn’t sleep, I then wonder if I should confess my feelings to her. I was hoping to get to know her further, not rushing into a bgr relationship. But then I realized that I was not good enough for her, she was a top scorer in class where all the elites were. I was in a class that was notorious for being trouble makers. I don’t think that I am good enough for her, no looks no brains, kind of useless. It would be disgraceful and that I should be content with that she would even be friends with me. I tossed a coin which indicated that I should tell her how I felt.Coincidentally I really did saw her the next day. I told her that I got something that I would like to tell her, but then no words came out of my mouth. I got cold feet, for thoughts that I am not good enough for her came to my mind. In the end I left saying that I had forgotten what I wanted to say. I was upset hence I decided to concentrate on my studies instead. For that period I really forgotten about her, for what was on my mind was to be number 1 in class.Soon it was time for a major examination; I prayed hard that I could score well for it. When the results came out, I was number 1 in my level with the best score. I wanted to share the joy with her and perhaps that it might seem a good time to confess to her. Sadly I never met her.When the next academic year came, I anxiously searched for her but I couldn’t find her. Her classmates guess that she might be sick.Later that day 2 of our mutual friends came to me and brought me the news that she had already passed away. I was devastated, tears just flow. Neither did I get to attend her funeral due to objections from my mother who was quite superstitious. All that I had as a memory of her was a sweet wrapper which she gave me, which is still in my wallet till this day.I pray that she would rest in peace… If you asked me why I chose not to let her know how I feel. It is because I don't think I will be able to be there for her, I rather she would be happily being with the guy she likes. For her happiness is all that matters to me, so long I am able to stay by her side as a friend, that would be good enough. At least I still get to see her. Love is not about possession, it never was. Till today she still remains in my heart. My only regret was that I was not around to help her, to give her support. I know I could change it, she could have been alive today. To all people out there, though saying words to your love ones may be hard, do not hide your feelings. Express it in other ways.

My love story on the terrace of my office

2008-07-29T00:27:00.003+05:30

In my young age,I used to work in an office as an accountant.I had a crush on my receptionist.It was not a general crush,I really loved her from the bottom of my heart.Whenever boss used to scold her I went mad in myself and all the night I kept tossing on my bed thinking ill things about my boss.One day I went to the terrace of my office sipping a cup of coffee and chatting with my friends.She also came there Sipping coffee and standing alone.She was looking very sad.I asked her why was she so sad.She replied that she was sad because the person she loved was not intrested in her..I was utterly shocked.I asked her how is his love.She replied he is a tall and handsome man whom she started to love from the very first meeting.Then we went back to work and in the evening I asked her if I can drop her home.She agreed at once to my surprise.I told her that if your love is not intrested in you,you should tell him at once that you love him.She said that it might feel awkward and hurt her love.But I insisted her to say it but she refused.Then after dropping her home when I was going away from her house,I was very sad because I actually loved her and she was not intrested in me.I shouted loudly in anguish "I love you Jennifer".She replied "I love you too".I had not realized that she had actually followed me from her house and it was me about whom she was talking about.After that we have been married happily for 10 years.

You are that guy

2008-07-14T13:43:00.000+05:30

Inspired by Mr Brown who was inspired by Mercer Machine who inspired a whole lot of bloggers.You are the boy who spent your school fees on $10 worth of chicken wings thereupon getting a spanking from your mother.You are the boy who grew up to play games every week with fellow boys.You are the boy who got a Playstation 2 as an engagement present.You are the boy who would eat like a boy if you lived alone, living on potato chips and Pepsi.You are the boy who would like it very much if he didn't have to grow up.But you are a boy who is also a guy.
You are that guy that she met at the pre-departure talk, who insulted her baby blue mobile phone in an attempt to get her phone number.You are the guy that commented on how she stood like a dancer with her feet turned flat out.You are that guy that apparently dedicated music to her over the radio and staked out the uni just hoping you catched a glimpse of her.You are the guy that got lucky when you bumped into her at the traffic just outside uni on the first day of school.You are the guy that repeated her phone number all the way home just in case you forgot it and missed the chance again.You are the guy that she out ate on your first date.You are the guy that had to bear all the crap when she couldn't decide who she liked better, you or some other guy back home.You are the guy that won her heart by buying her gummi bears and walking her home from ballet in the cold.You are the guy that she impressed by eating through half a bucket of fried chicken and then sat back and asked what's for desert.You are the guy that had to be taught what relationships were and in turn taught her how to work hard in a relationship.You are the guy that put your thesis on the back burner while she wigged out about her own thesis through the year.You are the guy who proposed to her on the plane back to Melbourne and made her dizzy.
You are the guy that wanted to wear Bata shoes to the wedding and refused to be put into ill-fitting Kenneth Coles.You are the one who got up there during your wedding and sang to your bride.You are the guy that endured the pillows hurled at you in her sleep.You are the guy who will go out there and look for yak's milk from Yemen if she ever demanded it.You are the guy that buys her flowers and burns her cds just to make her smile.You are the guy that believes, trusts and prays even when she has given up hope.You are the guy of her dreams and her greatest fear is to live without you.
Who are you? You are that guy and I am that girl.

A beautiful heart

2008-07-14T13:42:00.000+05:30

The more hurt and pain you have gone thru in life, the stronger and morebeautiful your heart will be.....
One day a young man was standing in the middle of the town proclaiming that he had the most beautiful heart in the whole valley.
A large crowd gathered and they all admired his heart for it was perfect. There was not a mark or a flaw in it. Yes, they all agreed it truly was the most beautiful heart they had ever seen. The young man was very proud and boasted more loudly about his beautiful heart.
Suddenly, an old man appeared at the front of the crowd and said, "Why your heart is not nearly as beautiful as mine." The crowd and the young man looked at the old man's heart. It was beating strongly, but full of scars, it had places where pieces had been removed and other pieces put in, but they didn't fit quite right and there were several jagged edges. In fact, in some places there were deep gouges where whole pieces missing.
The people stared. How can he say his heart is more beautiful?? they thought. The young man looked at the old man's heart and saw its state and laughed. "You must be joking," he said. "Compare your heart with mine, mine is perfect and yours is a mess of scars and tears."
"Yes," said the old man, "Yours is perfect looking but I would never trade with you. You see, every scar represents a person to whom I have given my love - I tear out a piece of my heart and give it to them, and often they give me a piece of their heart which fits into the empty place in my heart, but because the pieces aren't exact, I have some rough edges, which I cherish, because they remind me of the love we shared. Sometimes I have given pieces of my heart away, and the other person hasn't returned a piece of his heart to me. These are the empty gouges - giving love is taking a chance. Although these gouges are painful, they stay open, reminding me of the love I have for these people too, and I hope someday they may return and fill the space I have waiting. So now do you see what true beauty is?"
The young man stood silently with tears running down his cheeks. He walked up to the old man, reached into his perfect young and beautiful heart, and ripped a piece out. He offered it to the old man with trembling hands.
The old man took his offering, placed it in his heart and then took a piece from his old scarred heart and placed it in the wound in the young man's heart. It fit, but not perfectly, as there were some jagged edges.
The young man looked at his heart, not perfect anymore but more beautiful than ever, since love from the old man's heart flowed into his.
They embraced and walked away side by side.

Puppies for sale

2008-07-14T13:41:00.000+05:30

A farmer had some puppies he needed to sell. He painted a sign advertising the 4 pups. And set about nailing it to a post on the edge of his yard. As he was driving the last nail into the post, he felt a tug on his overalls. He looked down into the eyes of little boy.
"Mister," he said, "I want to buy one of your puppies."
"Well," said the farmer, as he rubbed the sweat off the back of his neck, "These puppies come from fine parents and cost a good deal of money."
The boy dropped his head for a moment. Then reaching deep into his pocket, he pulled out a handful of change and held it up to the farmer.
"I've got thirty-nine cents. Is that enough to take a look?"
"Sure," said the farmer. And with that he let out a whistle. "Here, Dolly!" he called Out from the doghouse and down the ramp ran Dolly followed by four little balls of fur.
The little boy pressed his face against the chain linkfence. His eyes danced with delight.As the dogs made their way to the fence, the little boy noticed something else??stirring inside the doghouse. Slowly another little ball appeared, this one noticeably smaller. Down the ramp it slid Then in a somewhat awkward manner, the little pup began hobbling toward the others, doing its best to catch up....
"I want that one," the little boy said, pointing to the runt.
The farmer knelt down at the boy's side and said, "Son, you don't want that puppy. He will never be able to run and play with you like theseother dogs would."
With that the little boy stepped back from the fence, reached down, and began rolling up one leg of his trousers.In doing so he revealed a steel brace running down bothsides of his leg attaching itself to a specially made shoe.Looking back up at the farmer, he said, "You see sir, Idon't run too well myself, and he will need someone who understands."
With tears in his eyes, farmer reached down and picked up the little pup.Holding it carefully handed it to the little boy.
"How much?" asked the little boy. "No charge," answered the farmer, "There's no charge for love."

Three words

2008-07-14T13:36:00.001+05:30

Girl: Do you really love me?
Boy: Of course I do.
Girl: I wanna hear you say it.
Boy: I don’t have to.
Girl: Why not?
Boy: Because...
Girl: I just want to hear you say it in words.
Boy: I can’t...The girl started to cry softly and said:Then you don't love me...
The two continued to walk in silence. They reached the girls home.
Girl: Why?
Boy: Do you really want to know?
Girl: (hesitantly) Yes.
He hugged her gently, kissed the tip of her noseand whispered in her ear,"Because three words are not enough..."

I love you

2008-07-03T19:13:00.000+05:30

I have a boyfriend who grew up with me. His name is Jin. I always thought of him as a friend until last year, when we went to a trip from a club. I found that I fell in love with him. Before that trip was over, I took a step and confessed my love for him. And soon, we became a pair of lovers, but we loved each other in different ways. I always concentrated on him only, but by his side, there were so many other girls. To me, he was the only one, but to him, maybe I was just another girl…
“Jin, do you want to go watch a movie?” I asked.“I can’t”“Why? You need to study at home?” I felt disappointment grabbing me.“No… I am going to meet a friend…”
He was always like that. He met girls in front of me, like it was nothing. To him, I was just a girlfriend. The word ‘love’ only came out from my mouth. Since I knew him, I had never heard him say ‘I love you’ before. To us, there weren’t any anniversaries at all. He didn’t say anything from the first day and it continued till 100 days…200days… Everyday, before we say goodbye, he would just hand me a doll, everyday, without fail. I don’t know why…
Then one day…
Me: Um, Jin, I …Jin: What…don’t drag, just say..Me: I love you.Jin: ……you….um, just take this doll and go home.That was how he ignored my ‘three words’ and handed me the doll. Then he disappeared, like he was running away. The dolls I received from him everyday, filled my room, one by one. There were many…Then one day came, my 15th year old birthday. When I got up in the morning, I pictured a party with him, and stranded myself in my room, waiting for his call. But… lunch passed, dinner passed… and soon the sky was dark… he still didn’t call. It was already tiring to look at the phone anymore. Then around 2am in the morning, he suddenly called me and woke me from my sleep. He told me to come out of the house. Still, I felt joy and I ran out happily.Me: Jin…
Jin: Here…take this…Again, he handed me a little doll.Me: What’s this?Jin: I didn’t give it to you yesterday, so I am giving it to you now. I’m going home now, bye.Me: Wait, wait! Do you know what today is?Jin: Today? Huh?I felt so sad, I thought he would remember my birthday. He turned around and walked away like nothing had happen.Then I shouted… “Wait…”Jin: You have something to say?Me: Tell me, tell me you love me…Jin: What?!Me: Tell meI put my pathetic self behind and clung on to him. But he just said simple cold words and left.“I don’t want to say…that I love someone so easily, if you are desperate to hear it, then find someone else.”That was what he said. Then he ran off. My legs felt numb… and I collapsed to the ground. He didn’t want to say it easily… How could he…. I felt that… Maybe he is not the right guy for me…After that day, I stranded myself at home crying, just crying. He didn’t call me, although I was waiting. He just continued handing me a little doll every morning outside my house. That’s how those dolls piled up in my room… everyday.
After a month, I got myself together and went to school. But what made the pain resurface was that… I saw him on a street… with another girl… He had a smile on his face, one that he never showed me…as he touched the doll… I ran straight back home and looked at the dolls in my room, and tears fell… Why did he gave these to me… Those dolls are probably picked out by some other girls…In a fit of anger, I threw the dolls around. Then suddenly, the phone rang. It was him. He told me to come out to the bus stop outside my house. I tried to calm myself down and walked to the bus stop. I kept reminding myself that I am going to forget him, that… it’s going to end. Then he came into my sight, holding a big doll.
Jin: Jo, I thought you were pissed, you really came?I couldn’t help hating him, acting like nothing had happen and joking around. Soon, he held out the doll as usual…Me: I don’t need it. Jin: What….why…I grabbed the doll from his hands and threw it on the road.Me: I don’t need this doll, I don’t need it anymore!! I don’t want to see a person like you again!I spitted out all the words that were inside me. But unlike other days, his eyes very shaking.“I’m sorry” He apologized in a tiny voice. He then walked over to the road to pick up the doll…Me: You stupid! Why are you picking up the doll?! Just throw it away!!!
But he ignored me and just went to pick the doll. Then…
Honk~ Honk~With a loud honk, a big truck was heading towards him.“Jin! Move! Move away!” I shouted… But he didn’t hear me, he squatted down and picked up the doll.“Jin, move!” HONK~!! “Boom!” That sound, so terrifying.That’s how he went away from me. That’s how he went away without even opening his eyes to say one word to me.After that day, I had to go through everyday with guiltiness and the sadness of losing him… And after spending two months like a crazy person… I took out the dolls.
Those were the only gifts he left me since the day we started going out. I remembered the days I spent with him and started to count the days… when we were in love…
“One…two… three…” That was how… I started to count the dolls…“Four hundred and eighty four… four hundred and eighty five…” It all ended with 485 dolls.I then started to cry again, with a doll in my arms. I hugged it tightly, then suddenly…
“I love you~, I love you~” I dropped the dolls,shocked.
“I….lo..ve…you??” I picked up the dolls and pressed its stomach.
“I love you~ I love you~” It can’t be! I pressed all the dolls’ stomach as it piled on the side.“I love you~”“I love you~”“I love you~”Those words came out non-stop. I…love you… Why didn’t I realize that….That his heart was always by my side, protecting me. Why didn’t I realize that he love me this much… I took out the doll under the bed and pressed it’s stomach, that was the last doll, the one that fell on the road. It had his blood stain on it. The voice came out, the on that I was missing so much…
“Jo…Do you know what today is? We’ve been loving each other for 486 days. Do you know what 486 is? I couldn’t say I love you…. Um… since I was too shy… If you forgive me and take this doll, I will say that I love you… everyday… till I die… Jo… I love you…”
The tears came flowing out of me. Why? Why? I asked god, why do I only know about all this now? He can’t be by my side, but he loved me until his last minute…
For that… and for that reason… to me… it became courage… to live a beautiful life.

Story of regret

2008-07-03T19:12:00.000+05:30

There was this guy who believed very much in true love and decided to take his time to wait for his right girl to appear. He believed that there would definitely be someone special out there for him, but none came.
Every year at Christmas, his ex-girlfriend would return from Vancouver to look him up. He was aware that she still held some hope of re-kindling the past romance with him. He did not wish to mislead her in any way. So he would always get one of his girl friends to pose as his steady whenever she came back. That went on for several years and each year, the guy would get a different girl to pose as his romantic interest. So whenever the ex-girlfriend came to visit him, she would be led into believing that it was all over between her and the guy. The girl took all those rather well, often trying to casually tease him about his different girlfriends, or so, as it seemed! In fact, the girl often wept in secret whenever she saw him with another girl, but she was too proud to admit it. Still, every Christmas, she returned, hoping to re-kindle some form of romance. But each time, she returned to Vancouver feeling disappointed.
Finally she decided that she could not play that game any longer. Therefore, she confronted him and professed that after all those years, he was still the only man that she had ever loved. Although the guy knew of her feelings for him, he was still taken back and have never expected her to react that way. He always thought that she would slowly forget about him over time and come to terms that it was all over between them. Although he was touched by her undying love for him and wanted so much to accept her again, he remembered why he rejected her in the first place-she was not the one he wanted. So he hardened his heart and turned her down cruelly. Since then, three years have passed and the girl never return anymore. They never even wrote to each other. The guy went on with his life..... still searching for the one but somehow deep inside him, he missed the girl.
On the Christmas of 1995, he went to his friend's party alone. "Hey, how come all alone this year? Where are all your girlfriends? What happened to that Vancouver babe who joins you every Christmas?", asked one of his friend. He felt warm and comforted by his friend's queries about her, still he just surged on.Then, he came upon one of his many girlfriends whom he once requested to pose as his steady. He wanted so much to ignore her ..... not that he was impolite, but because at that moment, he just didn't feel comfortable with those girlfriends anymore. It was almost like he was being judged by them. The girl saw him and shouted across the floor for him. Unable to avoid her, he went up to acknowledge her.
"Hi......how are you? Enjoying the party?" the girl asked.
"Sure.....yeah!", he replied.She was slightly tipsy..... must be from the whiskey on her hand. She continued,"Why...? Don't you need someone to pose as your girlfriend this year?" Then he answered, "No, there is no need for that anymore......"Before he can continue, he was interrupted, "Oh yes! Must have found a girlfriend! You haven't been searching for one for the past years, right?" The man looked up, as if he has struck gold, his face beamed and looked directly at the drunken girl. He replied, "Yes......you are right! I haven't been looking for anyone for the past years."With that, the man darted across the floor and out the door, leaving the lady in much bewilderment. He finally realized that he has already found his dream girl, and she was.....the Vancouver girl all along! The drunken lady has said something that awoken him.
All along he has found his girl. That was why he did not bother to look further when he realized she was not coming back. It was not any specific girl he was seeking! It was perfection that he wanted, and yes.....perfection!!Relationship is something both parties should work on. Realizing that he had let away someone so important in his life, he decided to call her immediately. His whole mind was flooded with fear. He was afraid that she might have found someone new or no longer had the same feelings anymore..... For once, he felt the fear of losing someone.
As it was Christmas eve, the line was quite hard to get through, especially an overseas call. He tried again and again, never giving up. Finally, he got through......precisely at 1200 midnight. He confessed his love for her and the girl was moved to tears. It seemed that she never got over him! Even after so long, she was still waiting for him, never giving up.
He was so excited to meet her and to begin his new chapter of their lives. He decided to fly to Vancouver to join her. It was the happiest time of their lives! But their happy time was short-lived. Two days before he was supposed to fly to Vancouver, he received a call from her father. She had a head-on car collision with a drunken driver. She passed away after 6 hours in a coma.The guy was devastated, as it was a complete loss. Why did fate played such cruel games with him? He cursed the heaven for taking her away from him, denying even one last look at her! How cruel he cursed! How he damned the Gods...!! How he hated himself....for taking so long to realize his mistake!! That was in 1996.
The moral of this story is :Treasure what you have...Time is too slow for those who wait;Too swift for those who fear;Too long for those who grief;Too short for those who rejoice;But for those who love...Time is Eternity.
For all you out there with someone special in your heart, cherish that person, cherish every moment that you spend together that special someone, for in life, anything can happen anytime. You may painfully regret, only to realise that it is too late.

A silent love

2008-07-03T19:11:00.000+05:30

From the very Begining, the girl's family objected strongly on her dating this guy. Saying that it has got to do with family background & that the girl will have to suffer for the rest of her life if she were to be with him.
Due to family's pressure, the couple quarrel very often. Though the girl love the guy deeply, but she always ask him: "How deep is your love for me?"
As the guy is not good with his words, this often cause the girl to be very upset. With that & the family's pressure, the girl often vent her anger on him. As for him, he only endure it in silence.
After a couple of years, the guy finally graduated & decided to further his studies in overseas. Before leaving, he proposed to the girl: "I'm not very good with words. But all I know is that I love you. If you allow me, I will take care of you for the rest of my life. As for your family, I'll try my best to talk them round. Will you marry me?"
The girl agreed, & with the guy's determination, the family finally gave in & agreed to let them get married. So before he leave, they got engaged.
The girl went out to the working society, whereas the guy was overseas, continuing his studies. They sent their love through emails & phone calls. Though it's hard, but both never thought of giving up.
One day, while the girl was on her way to work, she was knocked down by a car that lost control. When she woke up, she saw her parents beside her bed. She realised that she was badly injured. Seeing her mum crying, she wanted to comfort her. But she realized that all that could come out of her mouth was just a sigh. She has lost her voice......
The doctors says that the impact on her brain has caused her to lose her voice. Listening to her parents' comfort, but with nothing coming out from her, she broke down.
During the stay in hospital, besides silence cry,.....it's still just silence cry that companied her. Upon reaching home, everything seems to be the same. Except for the ringing tone of the phone. Which pierced into her heart everytime it rang. She does not wish to let the guy know. & not wanting to be a burden to him, she wrote a letter to him saying that she does not wish to wait any longer.
With that, she sent the ring back to him. In return, the guy sent millions & millions of reply, and countless of phonecalls,.. all the girl could do, besides crying, is still crying....
The parents decided to move away, hoping that she could eventually forget everything & be happy.
With a new environment, the girl learn sign language & started a new life. Telling herself everyday that she must forget the guy. One day, her friend came & told her that he's back. She asked her friend not to let him know what happened to her. Since then, there wasn't anymore news of him.
A year has passed & her friend came with an envelope, containing an invitation card for the guy's wedding. The girl was shattered. When she open the letter, she saw her name in it instead.
When she was about to ask her friend what's going on, she saw the guy standing in front of her. He used sign language telling her "I've spent a year's time to learn sign language. Just to let you know that I've not forgotten our promise. Let me have the chance to be your voice. I Love You. With that, he slipped the ring back into her finger. The girl finally smiled.

The missing rib

2008-07-03T19:10:00.000+05:30

A girl in love asked her boyfriend.
Girl: Tell me. Who do you love most in this world?
Boy: You, of course!
Girl: In your heart, what am I to you?
Boy: The boy thought for a moment and looked intently in her eyes and said, "You are my rib. It was said that God saw that Adam was lonely, during his sleep, God took one of Adam's rib and created Eve. Every man has been searching for his missing rib, only when you find the woman of your life, you'll no longer feel the lingering ache in your heart."
After their wedding, the couple had a sweet and happy life for a while.
However, the youthful couple began to drift apart due to the busy schedule of life and the never-ending worries of daily problems, their life became mundane.
All the challenges posed by the harsh realities of life began to gnaw away their dreams and love for each other. The couple began to have more quarrels and each quarrel became more heated.
One day, after the quarrel, the girl ran out of the house. At the opposite side of the road, she shouted, "You don't love me!"
The boy hated her childishness and out of impulse, retorted, "Maybe, it was a mistake for us to be together! You were never my missing rib!"
Suddenly, she turned quiet and stood there for a long while. He regretted what he said but words spoken are like thrown away water, you can never take it back. With tears, she went home to pack her things and was determined in breaking-up.
Before she left the house, "If I'm really not your missing rib, please let me go." She continued, "It is less painful this way. Let us go on our separate ways and search for our own partners."
Five years went by...
He never remarried but he had tried to find out about her life indirectly. She had left the country and back. She had married a foreigner and divorced. He felt anguished that she never waited for him.
In the dark and lonely night, he lit his cigarette and felt the lingering ache in his heart. He couldn't bring himself to admit that he was missing her.
One day, they finally met. At the airport, a place where there were many reunions and good byes. He was going away on a business trip. She was standing there alone, with just the security door separating them. She smiled at him gently.
Boy: How are you?
Girl: I'm fine. How about you? Have you found your missing rib?
Boy: No.
Girl: I'll be flying to New York in the next flight.
Boy: I'll be back in 2 weeks time. Give me a call when you are back. You know my number. Nothing has changed.
With a smile, she turned around and waved good bye.
Good bye...
One week later, he heard of her death. She had perished in New York, in the event that shocked the world.
Midnight, once again, he lit his cigarette. And like before, he felt the lingering ache in his heart. He finally knew. She was the missing rib that he had carelessly broken.
Sometimes, people say things out of moments of fury. Most often than not, the outcome could be disastrous and detrimental. We vent our frustrations 99% at our loved ones. And even though we know that we ought to "think twice and act wisely", it's often easier said than done.
Things happen each day, many of which are beyond our control. Let us treasure every moment and everyone in our lives.
Tomorrow may never come. Give and accept what you have today

Life together

2008-06-25T14:46:00.000+05:30

One fine day, an old couple around the age of 70, walks into a lawyer's office. Apparently, they are there to file a divorce.
Lawyer was very puzzled, after having a chat with them, he got their story....This couple had been quarreling all their 40 over yrs of marriage nothing ever seems to go right.
They hang on because of their children, afraid that it might affect their up-bringing. Now, all their children have already grown up, have their own family, there's nothing else the old couple have to worry about, all they wanted is to lead their own life free from all these years of unhappiness from their marriage, so both agree on a divorce....
Lawyer was having a hard time trying to get the papers done, because he felt that after 40 yrs of marriage at the age of 70, he couldnt understand why the old couple would still want a divorce..
While they were signing the papers, the wife told the husband.."I really love u, but i really cant carry on anymore, I'm sorry..""Its o.k, i understand.." said the husband. Lookin at this, the lawyer suggested a dinner together, just 3 of them,wife thought, why not, since they are still gonna be friends..
At the dining table, there was a silence of awkardness.The first dish was roasted chicken, immediately, the old man took the drumstick for the old lady.."take this, its your favourite.."
Looking at this, the lawyer thought maybe theres still a chance, but the wife was frowning when she answer.."This is always the problem, you always think so highly of yourself, never thought about how I feel, dont you know that i hate drumsticks?"
Little did she know that, over the years, the husband have been trying all ways to please her, little did she know that drumsticks was the husband's favourite. Little did he know that she never thought he understand her at all, little did he know that she hates drummsticks even though all he wants is the best for her.
That night, both of them couldnt sleep, toss and turn, toss and turn...after hours, the old man couldnt take it anymore, he knows that he still loves her, and he cant carry on life without her, he wants her back, he wants to tell her, he is sorry, he wanted to tell her "i love you"...
He picks up the phone, starting dialing her number....ringing never stops..he never stop dialing....
On the other side, she was sad, she couldn’t understand how come after all these years, he still doesnt understand her at all, she loves him a lot, but she just cant take it anymore....phone's ringing, she refuses to answer knowing that its him..."whats the point of talking now that its over...i have ask for it and now i wanna keep it this way, if not i will lose face.."she thought...still ringing...she have decided to pull out the cord...
Little did she remember, he have heart problems...
The next day, she received news that he had passed away...she rushed down to his apartment, saw his body, lying on the couch still holding on to the phone...he had a heart attack when he was still trying to get through her phone line....
As sad as she could be...she will have to clear his belongings...when she was looking thru the drawers, she saw this insurance policy, dated from the day they got married, with the beneficiary being her... And together in those file, there was this note...

"To my dearest wife, by the time you're reading this, I'm sure I'm no longer around, I bought this policy for you, though the amount is only $100k, I hope it will be able to help me continue my promise that i have made when we got married, I might not be around anymore, I want this amount of money to continue taking care of you, just like the way I will if I could have live longer. I want you to know Iwill always be around, by your side... I love you"
Tears flowed like river......
"When you love someone, let them know... You never know what will happen the next minute.... Learn to build a life together.. Learn to love each other. For who they are.. not what they are..."

To the nice guys

2008-06-25T14:45:00.000+05:30

This is for that time she left 40 urgent messages on your cell phone, and when you called her back, she spent three hours painstakingly dissecting two sentences her boyfriend said to her over dinner. And even though you thought her boyfriend was a chump and a jerk, you assured her that it was all ok and she shouldn’t worry about it. This is for that time she interrupted the best killing spree you’d ever orchestrated in Halo2 to rant about a rumor that romantically linked her and the guy she thinks is the most repulsive person in the world. And even though you thought it was immature and you had nothing against the guy, you paused the game for two hours and helped her concoct a counter-rumor to spread around the floor. This is also for that time she didn’t have a date, so after numerous vows that there was nothing “serious” between the two of you, she dragged you to a party where you knew nobody, the beer was awful, and she flirted shamelessly with you, justifying each fit of reckless teasing by announcing to everyone: “oh, but we’re just friends!” And even though you were invited purely as a symbolic warm body for her ego, you went anyways. Because you’re nice like that.
The nice guys don’t often get credit where credit is due. And I wish I could logically explain this trend, but I can’t. From what I have observed on campus and what I have learned from talking to friends at other schools and in the workplace, the only conclusion I can form is that many girls are just illogical, manipulative b**ches. Many of them claim they just want to date a nice guy, but when presented with such a specimen, they say irrational, confusing things such as “oh, he’s too nice to date” or “he would be a good boyfriend but he’s not for me” or “he already puts up with so much from me, I couldn’t possibly ask him out!” or the most frustrating of all: “no, it would ruin our friendship.” Yet, they continue to lament the lack of datable men in the world, and they expect their too-nice-to-date male friends to sympathize and apologize for the men that are jerks. Sorry, guys, girls like that are beyond my ability to fathom. I can’t figure out why the connection breaks down between what they say (I want a nice guy!) and what they do (I’m going to sleep with this complete a** now!). But one thing I can do, is say that the nice-guy-finishes-last phenomenon doesn’t last forever. There are definitely many girls who grow out of that train of thought and realize they should be dating the nice guys, not taking them for granted. The tricky part is finding those girls, and even trickier, finding the ones that are single.
So, until those girls are found, I propose a toast to all the nice guys. You know who you are, and I know you’re sick of hearing yourself described as ubiquitously nice. But the truth of the matter is, the world needs your patience in the department store, your holding open of doors, your party escorting services, your propensity to be a sucker for a pretty smile. For all the crazy, inane, absurd things you tolerate, for all the situations where you are the faceless, nameless hero, my accolades, my acknowledgement, and my gratitude go out to you. You do have credibility in this society, and your well deserved vindication is coming.

All the good things

2008-06-25T14:44:00.001+05:30

He was in the first third grade class I taught at Saint Mary's School in Morris, Minn. All 34 of my students were dear to me, but Mark Eklund was one in a million. Very neat in appearance, but had that happy-to-be-alive attitude that made even his occasional mischievousness delightful.
Mark talked incessantly. I had to remind him again and again that talking without permission was not acceptable. What impressed me so much, though, was his sincere response every time I had to correct him for misbehaving. "Thank you for correcting me, Sister!" I didn't know what to make of it at first, but before long I became accustomed to hearing it many times a day.
One morning my patience was growing thin when Mark talked once too often, and then I made a novice-teacher's mistake. I looked at him and said, "If you say one more word, I am going to tape your mouth shut!"
It wasn't ten seconds later when Chuck blurted out, "Mark is talking again." I hadn't asked any of the students to help me watch Mark, but since I had stated the punishment in front of the class, I had to act on it.
I remember the scene as if it had occurred this morning. I walked to my desk, very deliberately opened my drawer and took out a roll of masking tape. Without saying a word, I proceeded to Mark's desk, tore off two pieces of tape and made a big X with them over his mouth. I then returned to the front of the room. As I glanced at Mark to see how he was doing he winked at me. That did it! I started laughing. The class cheered as I walked back to Mark's desk, removed the tape and shrugged my shoulders. His first words were, "Thank you for correcting me, Sister."
At the end of the year I was asked to teach junior-high math. The years flew by, and before I knew it Mark was in my classroom again. He was more handsome than ever and just as polite. Since he had to listen carefully to my instructions in the "new math," he did not talk as much in ninth grade as he had in the third.
One Friday, things just didn't feel right. We had worked hard on a new concept all week, and I sensed that the students were frowning, frustrated with themselves - and edgy with one another. I had to stop this crankiness before it got out of hand. So I asked them to list the names of the other students in the room on two sheets of paper, leaving a space between each name. Then I told them to think of the nicest thing they could say about each of their classmates and write it down.
It took the remainder of the class period to finish the assignment, and as the students left the room, each one handed me the papers. Charlie smiled. Mark said, "Thank you for teaching me, Sister. Have a good weekend."
That Saturday, I wrote down the name of each student on a separate sheet of paper, and I listed what everyone else had said about that individual. On Monday I gave each student his or her list. Before long, the entire class was smiling. "Really?" I heard whispered. "I never knew that meant anything to anyone!" "I didn't know others liked me so much!"
No one ever mentioned those papers in class again. I never knew if they discussed them after class or with their parents, but it didn't matter. The exercise had accomplished its purpose. The students were happy with themselves and one another again.
That group of students moved on. Several years later, after I returned from vacation, my parents met me at the airport. As we were driving home, Mother asked me the usual questions about the trip, the weather, and my experiences in general. There was a light lull in the conversation. Mother gave Dad a side-ways glance and simply says, "Dad?" My father cleared his throat as he usually did before something important. "The Eklunds called last night," he began. "Really?" I said. "I haven't heard from them in years. I wonder how Mark is."
Dad responded quietly. "Mark was killed in Vietnam," he said. "The funeral is tomorrow, and his parents would like it if you could attend."
I had never seen a serviceman in a military coffin before. Mark looked so handsome, so mature. All I could think at that moment was, Mark, I would give all the masking tape in the world if only you would talk to me.
The church was packed with Mark's friends. The pastor said the usual prayers, and the bugler played taps. One by one those who loved Mark took a last walk by the coffin and sprinkled it with holy water.
I was the last one to bless the coffin. As I stood there, one of the soldiers who had acted as pallbearer came up to me. "Were you Mark's math teacher?" he asked. I nodded as I continued to stare at the coffin. "Mark talked about you a lot," he said.
After the funeral, most of Mark's former classmates headed to Chucks farmhouse for lunch. Mark's mother and father were there, obviously waiting for me. "We want to show you something," his father said, taking a wallet out of his pocket. "They found this on Mark when he was killed. We thought you might recognize it."
Opening the billfold, he carefully removed two worn pieces of notebook paper that had obviously been taped, folded and refolded many times. I knew without looking that the papers were the ones on which I had listed all the good things each of Mark's classmates had said about him. "Thank you so much for doing that." Mark's mother said. "As you can see, Mark treasured it."
Mark's classmates started to gather around us. Charlie smiled rather sheepishly and said, "I still have my list. It's in the top drawer of my desk at home." Chuck's wife said, "Chuck asked me to put this in our wedding album." "I have mine too," Marilyn said. "It's in my diary." Then Vicki, another classmate, reached into her pocketbook, took out her wallet and showed her worn and frazzled list to the group. "I carry this with me at all times," Vicki said without batting an eyelash. "I think we all saved our lists."
That's when I finally sat down and cried. I cried for Mark and for all his friends who would never see him again.

The purpose of this story is to encourage everyone to compliment the people you love and care about. We often tend to forget the importance of showing our affections and love. Sometimes the smallest of things, could mean the most to another. Please spread this story around and spread the message and encouragement, to express your love and caring by complimenting and being open with communication. The density of people in society is so thick, that we forget that life will end one day and we don't know when that one day will be. Tell them, before it is too late.

Mad at you

2008-06-25T14:39:00.002+05:30

Girl: Hey baby i want to show you....
Boy: ( cutting her off ) Ugh I'm so mad
Girl: Why? Whats wrong ?
Boy: Ugh everything
Girl: Explain baby
Boy: Just lost a championship game,parents flipped out on me for no reason,and im catching a cold
Girl: Well hey there will always be other games,you know I'll take care of you when your sick,what your parents flip about ?
Boy: They are making me pay them for a car repair
Girl: Is it a lot of money
Boy: No it just sucks
Boy: But hey I dont feel well I'm going to go lay down
Boy: Bye
Girl: Wait I want to give you some...
Boy: Can't It wait 'til tommorow ?
Girl: Yeah, sure
Girl: Bye
Boy: Bye
2 hours later a friend of hers asks her to go for a drive ...shegoes.....
Her friend swerved to avoid a truck....hitting a tree instead
Her friend was killed instantly....she's in critical condition
This is the conversation between her sister and her boyfriend.....
Sister: Omg ( crying )
Boy: What? Whats wrong ?
Sister: My sister...your girlfriend was involved in a major car wreck
Boy: Is she OK??????
Sister: She's in critical condition
Boy: I'll be there in 10 minutes
He shows up to the hospital room ...standing outside the door going over the last conversation in his mind over and over as he heard the machines beep and beep and breathing tubes pump oxygen into her lungs
Boy: She wanted to give me something or tell me something
Girls mom: Yeah this...
It was an envelope smelling like she sealed it with a kiss in lipstick
He opened it.....
It said ..... You're everything to me....I love you with everything I am and everything I have...I want to spend the rest of my life with you

Sealed in it was a ripped movie ticket from the first movie they went to...
...and the first picture they took together
He kissed the picture as a tear fell from his face onto the picture
It looked as if in the picture she was crying
Then the machines flatlined....3 minutes later she was pronounced dead

A racer's anniversary

2008-06-25T14:38:00.002+05:30

It's been 3 months that we've been dating. Ever since 9th grade, we've always dreamed of being together. I use to give him love letters everyday when we were in high school. I'm in love with one of the best racers in the city. That gives me a good reputation. Well ever since hes got that car, hes been working on it 24/7. We barely have any alone time anymore. Our last month anniversary i bought him a new part for his car. He would always promise me that he would get me something better if i wait...so i do. He told me not to buy him anymore things for him cuzz he said its his job to buy me things so i stopped and waited for our anniversaries.
- A Month Later
It's August 1st, and its our 4th anniversary. I see this beautiful necklace in a catalog i got in the mail. He walks in and puts his tools down to get a drink...
Mark: Hey babe, what are u doing?Angelica: Looking at some jewelry.Mark: O cool.Angelica: By the way babe...do u know what day it is?Mark: Is it race night?Angelica: No...nevermind forget it
Mark: Ok (walks back into the garage to work on the car)
I stare at the catalog and touch the picture while a tear drop falls on the page. I go in the room and cry for about 2 hours straight. He didn't even notice how i felt that night. He has never gotten me anything for any of our anniversaries. I've waited for 4 months and still nothing.
- Another Month Later
It's September 1st, and its our 5th anniversary. I'm flipping through the channels and i find the first movie that we ever watched together. Once again hes working on his car as usual. He walks in to wash his hands...
Mark: Hey babe, what are u doing?Angelica: Watching the first movie that we ever watched together.Mark: O I remember that...(smiles and walks out)Angelica: Wait...Mark: (walks in again) Yes babe?Angelica: Do u know what day is today?Mark: Yeah it's friday...why?Angelica: Nothing...nevermindMark: O Ok (walks back in the garage)
I turn the TV off and i run to my room and cry for 3 hours this time. He still didn't notice it. He has never gotten me anything for any of our anniversaries. I've waited 5 months and still nothing.
- Another Month Passes
It's October 1st, and it's our 6th anniversary. I'm reading the love letters that he wrote to me when we were still in high school. He walks in and gives me a kiss on the cheek...
Mark: Hey babe, what are u doing?Angelica: Reading your old love letters from high school.Mark: (giggles of embarassment) I remember those...those were so silly.Angelica: By the way...where did u put the love letters that i gave u?Mark: Uhhh???... in the car...Angelica: O "i stood there in disbelief"Mark: Well anyways...Guess what day it is today babe.Angelica:(Smiles with all her joy) What day is it today?...In my mind- "He finallyremembered what day it is"Mark: Today is the day my new tires come in that i ordered online (smiles)Angelica: O yeah i remember....(frowns)...In my mind- "He still doesn't know"Mark: It's gonna come this afternoon. I'll go wait for it outside. (Runs outside)
I tried to open the last letter but it was too wet of tears. I run to the room and cry for 4 hours this time. He still didn't notice it. He has never gotten me anything for any of our anniversaries. I've waited 6 months and still nothing.
- Another Month Gone By
It's November 1st, and it's our 7th annversary. I wait for him inside. "If he doesn't remember this time, then it's over". He walks in...

Mark: Hey babe, what are u doing?Angelica: Nothing jus waiting for you.Mark: Why?Angelica: Do you know what today it is?Mark: Well it's saturday...Angelica: HOW COULD U KEEP FORGETTING!?!?!Mark: Forget bout what?Angelica: OUR ANNIVERSARY!!!Mark: O I forgot...I must have been busy working on the...Angelica: GET OUT!Mark: Babe why?Angelica: NOW!Mark: but babe I...Angelica: GO NOW!Mark- Walks outside
I slam the door on his back and i fall on my knees crying for about 5 hours. I hear the car turn on and blast out of the driveway. The last thing i heard was his tires skidding on the garage ground. I was so heart broken that i past out and fell asleep.
- 3 days later (November 4th)
I didn't hear from him since that day. He would usually come back to apologize. I called his family but they said he never came home at all. He has no where to stay so i call his cell. It's not in service...I get very worried that i once again i run up to my room and start crying. I cried for 6 hours this time. I fall asleep on the floor.
I have a nightmare while i was sleeping...
We're in his car and we're speeding on a 2 lane road. I'm in the passenger seat screaming. I see him driving and crying at the same time. I try my best to tell him to slow down but he jus won't hear me. Then i see a turn coming up. It's a very tight corner and it’s on the edge of a hill. We lose control and spin out and fall down the hill facing back words. The last thing i saw was a sign that said "SLOW DOWN - 10FT DROP"
I wake up, before we crash, and I’m sweating...and i stop and stare for about 10 minutes. I ask myself "Why didn't i wake up earlier?". I'd usually wake up before I get scared in my dreams. My friend walks it and I quickly get up pretending as if nothing happened.
Jenn: Wake up sleepy head...say...were gonna go to the view and look at all the lights from on top the mountains.Angelica: Cool, I'm there...jus let me get ready.Jenn: Ok, but hurry upAngelica: How long was i asleep?Jenn: About 2 hours
I look at the clock and it said 7:00 pm on the dot. Then I go to the bathroom and wash my face and i change my shirt. I'm still wondering about my dream. "It felt so real"
- In the car
We're goin up the mountain and the 4 lane road turns into 2 lanes. Me and Jenn are jus talking bout going to a concert next week. Then theres a strange silence in our conversation. Then up the road i see a sign that says "SLOW DOWN - 10FT DROP" then I gasp and i yell at Jenn "STOP!!!" and she slams the brakes and we stop in the middle of the road. Luckily theres no traffic so we're alone.
I step out of the car and look at the edge of the turn and i see skid marks on the ground leading to the edge of the hill and i see that theres a big gap in the guard rail as if some one had run straight into it. Then i look down at the edge of the hill to see his car laying there crushed under a tree. I drop to my knees and i just stare at it for about 2 minutes. Jenns surprised to see how i found the car.
I run to the wreck to see him laying there with his head down. I check his pulse only to find out that hes dead. I cry and while crying i see his hand is touching the glove compartment of the dash board. I walk around the car, to the other side and i open it. There... i found a box with a lock on it. It was a key lock but there was no key to be found. I see a paper sticking out from under the seat. I pull it and to my surprise....it was the first letter that i wrote to him. I was more curious but even more heart struck. I kicked the seat and it broke off and under it was all of the letters that i wrote to him. Every single one was there. then under all the papers was a key. I looked at it and then looked at the box. I stuck the key in and twisted it. CLICK It pops open and i jus drop to my knees again in more tears to see the necklace that i was looking at 4 months ago in the catalog. I looked at it and put it on. But that wasn't it....under the necklace was a pillow and under that pillow was a ring. A diamond ring and under that was a letter...
Dear Angelica,
I've been waiting for a long time for this moment and I think it's the perfect time. We've been together for 8 months and that was enough time for me to find out that u were the right one for me. The whole time I've been working on my car, I've also been planning on how I was gonna tell u this. All i can say now is that I really love you. I want u to be mine and only mine. I will always feel this way no matter what happens to me or u. So in conclusion...will u accept this ring for me and wear it till u die. As long as u have it on, I will always be with you.
Always Love; Forever,Mark
P.S. - I will still love you and I'll make up all my mistakes even when I die.

I just loose my heart at that moment i finished reading the last words. My tears start to smear the writing and then suddenly the words dissappear from the moisture. I notice that I am covering a part of the letter with my finger. I move my finger slowly to read the piece of writing. I read it closely...and it says..."November 4th - 5:00pm" I just stopped and thinked…then I jus noticed that 5:00pm was when I fell asleep and had the dream... i cried that whole night regretting my every word that I said to him. Till today, I wear the same ring. Now im working on his car that he died in. I'm planning to fix it up on my own. I know that he is still in that car. So I've deciding to keep the car with me till I die. As long as I have this car, I'll always have him.

I love you not

2008-06-25T14:38:00.001+05:30

Boy: Baby, we need to talk.Girl: Ricardo, what do u mean?Boy: Something has come up...Girl: What? What's wrong? Is it bad?Boy: I don't want to hurt you, baby.Girl: *Thinks* Oh my God, I hope he doesnt break up with me... I love him so much.Boy: Baby, are you there??Girl: Yeah, I'm here. What is so important??Boy: I'm not sure if I should say it..Girl: Well, you already brought it up, so please just tell me.Boy: I'm leaving...Girl: Baby, what are u talking about?? I don't want you to leave me, I love you.Boy: Not like that, I mean I'm moving far away.Girl: Why? All of your famliy lives over here.Boy: Well, my father is sending me away to a boarding school far away.Girl: I can't believe this.[FATHER: (Picks up the other phone, interrupts & yells furiouslyERICA!, what did I tell you about talking to boys?!!!... Get off thedamn phone!! (And hangs up).]
Boy: Wow, your father sounds really mad.Girl: You know how he gets, but anyways, I dont want you to go.Boy: Would you run away with me?Girl: Baby, you know I would, I would do anything for you, but I can't... You don't know what would happen if I did. My dad would kill me!Boy: *Sad* It's okay.. I understand, I guess..Girl: *Thinking*I can't believe what's going on.Boy: I need to give you something tonite, because I am leaving onflight 1-80 in the morning, so I need to see you now.Girl: Okay, I will sneak out & meet you at the park.Boy: Okay, I'll meet you there in 20 minutes.[They meet at a nearby park, they both hug eachother. And he givesher a note.]Boy: Here you go, this is for you. I gotta go.Girl: *Tear* (Begins to cry.)Boy: Baby, dont cry, you know I love you... But I have to go.Girl: Okay (Begins to walk away.)[They both go back home. And Erica begins to read the letter he gave her]It says..."Erica,
You probably already know that I'm leaving, I knew this would be better if I wrote a letter explaining the truth about how much I care about you. The truth is, is that I never loved you, I hated you so much, you are my bitch and dont you ever forget that. I never cared about you, and never wanted to talk to you, and be around you. You really have no clue how much I hate you. Now that I'm leaving I thought you should know that I hate you, bitch. You never did theright thing, and you were never there. I didnt think I could hate someone as much as I hate you. And I never want to see you, for the rest of my life, I will never miss kissing you like before, I never want to cuddle up, how we used to. I will not miss you and that's a promise. You never had my love, and I want you to remember that. Bitch, you keep this letter because this may be the last thing you have from me. Fuck, I hate you so much. I will not talk to you soon bitch... Goodbye.- Ricardo"[ Erica begins to cry, she throws the paper in tha garbage & crys for hours ]... A day passes, she is sad, depressed and she feels so lonely... Then she gets a phone call....Friend: How are you feeling?Girl: I just cant believe this happened.. I thought he loved me.Friend: Oh, about that. Ricardo left me a message. A few days ago. He told me to tell you to look in your jacket pocket or something...Girl: Umm.. okay.[She finds a piece of paper in the jacket,It says:"Baby I hope you find this before you read my letter. I knew your dad might read it, so I switched a few words...Hate = LoveNever = AlwaysBitch = BabyWill not= will.... I hope you didn't take that seriously because I love you with all my heart, and it was so hard to let you go thats why I wanted you to run away with me... -Ricardo"]Girl: Oh my God! It's a letter.. Ricardo does love me!!, he must of slipped it into my pocket when he hugged me. I can't believe how stupid I am!!

Friend: lol Okay but I g2g... Call me later.Girl: *happy*okay, bye, I'll be at home waiting for my baby to call me!... Erica turns the T.V. on......[Breaking news] "An airplane has crashed. Over 47 young boys died, we are still searching for survivors... This is a tragedy we will never forget, this plane was flight 1-80... it was on its way to an all boys boarding school..." the Reporter says.[ She turns off the t.v. ... 3 days later, she kills herself, because of the fact that Ricardo was dead & she had nothing to live for... ]... A day after that the phone rings. Nobody answers. It was Ricardo, he called to leave a message. "Its Ricardo, I guess you're not home so, I called to let you know that I'm alive, I missed my flight because I had to see you one last time. So, I hope your not worried. I am staying for good

Text Pal

2008-06-25T14:34:00.001+05:30

My cellphone's beeping sound woke me up one night. Used to receiving important messages only, I grabbed my cell and sleepily pushed the keys and read the message.
"Hi there! Care 2 b my txtmate?"
Not knowing who the sender was, I deleted the message right away and placed the phone on my bedside table, I tried to go back to sleep.
I had just closed my eyes when I heard the message tone again.
"Hi there, again! Care 2 b my txtmate?" again, the message said.
"Who the hell could this be asking for txtmate at the wee hours of the night?" I asked myself.
Again, without bothering to reply I deleted the message.
I was never a 'textmaniac' - someone who enjoys texting anyone and everyone even at the wee hours of night, not to mention during the day. My parents, who were always out of the country forced me to own a cellphone. They told me that having one was more convenient - they could monitor me even if they're miles away.
I wanted to turn the unit off, but since my mother was fond of calling me at night, just to check if I was safe at home, I decided not to.
Just as I was to close my eyes and return to my dreamless sleep, the phone beeped again.
Same number...Such determination!
"Ply reply 2 dis msg & b an angel & save me frm dis abyss of emptiness!!!"
I never knew why, but the message struck me. I got up and pushed the keys... I just realized I was replying to the message.
"Im not an angel, n f u want som1 2 save u, m not superman... I'm just a simple prson who u wake up at dis r of my nyt!!! Nway, do I know u?" I typed.
Seconds later came the reply.
"Nope. U don't know dis lonely soul. Nor does she know u. But I want 2 b ur frnd. I'm Mikaella Cervantes. U?"
"Just call me Julius. How'd u get my no.?" I sent back.
"Hi Julius, nice 2 meet u. Just shuffled the last two digits of mine," she replied.
That was the first and maybe the last time I met someone over the cellphone.
We exchanged messages and learned so much about each other that night. We only said goodbye when my alarm clock rang at 5:00 AM! I had to prepare for school!
And that was also how it all started. A day would not pass without it loving and thoughtful messages from her. It was only then I had learned to appreciate text messages and become eager and excited everytime my phone beeped, hoping it would be her.
Mikaella brought out something about me that I never knew I had; I realized I could also be a romantic person... even if it's just through text messaging.
"Keep me as a frnd & I will keep u in my heart. Lock it up & throw away d key so dat no1 can evr tke u away from me..."One day, she sent this message to me.
I replied: 'In life, we seldom find a true prson & f u evr find 1, hold on & nvr let go... value dat prson coz it's lyf's gift worth keeping & holdin on..."
I never knew why, but her response sent shivers to my spine, " Value d people hu hav touched ur life bcoz u will never know just wen dey will walk out of ur lyf & nvr come back again."
I couldn't understand what I felt that moment, but one thing I was sure though... I could not go on a day without a single word from her. I'd become used to having her, eventhough we had not met personally. But truly, she already occupied a space, a large one, in fact in my life.
I texted her back. "Dont come close f l8r ull jst pass by; don't touch me f l8r ull jst let me cry; dont luv me f l8r ull jst leave me and won't stay..."
I didn't know why I sent her that message, but somehow I felt, every word came from my heart. In the short span of time we were sending messages to each other, I knew, I was starting to keep her in my heart.

I called her once. The voice on the other end was like an angel's. Soft, kind, full of love. Yet, there was something in it I couldn't define. We only talked for a few minutes. Before she hung up, she told me not to call again. According to her, it would be better if we would just text each other.
But the voice kept ringing, not only in my head, but in my heart, I'd long to hear it once more. I tried to call her again, but she never answered the phone. She just kept on sending messages and quotations, which I copied in a little notebook. Hopeless romantic? I didn't know. All I could say was that all the messages she sent me were wonderful, they came from the heart and cut through the heart.
"Though we r miles apart, u r always n my heart. I close my eyes & der u r. Even f I'll see u never, I'll always b hir 2 care 4 u, far longer dan 4ever..."
One December night, she sent me this message. By that time we had been exchanging messages for more than a month. God knew how happy I was. She was right. Although we had not seen each other, what we felt was enough to make us both realize what was keeping us together.
I sent her another message, "Loving u secretly is a hard thing 4 me 2 do,hoping, wondring that u will feel d same way 2, but I can't read r mind f u luv me 2. But whatever it is, I'll still be loving u."
"How I wish I cud really tell u how much u mean 2 me, but m afraid 2 love, scared 2 get hurt... I hope dat u will wait 4 me & pray dat u will not get tired of loving me...=)" was her reply.
And then I replied again. " The reason y I met u is bcoz of destiny but f destiny will suggest dat I'll live w/o u, den, I'll lie not by destiny but of free will."
Whenever I asked her when we would meet personally, she always answered, "Soon...soon, love...soon."
Not seeing each other did not lessen, even a bit, what I felt for her...rather, it even grew deeper and stronger each day. And I was sure, she felt the same way, too. Love messages continued to flow through our lines, between our hearts, which made us go on each day with the thought that sooner, we would see each other, face to face, heart to heart.
Just a few days before Christmas. She stopped sending messages. At first I just though she had ran out of prepaid.
But there was something that kept bothering me... I couldn't understand what was it, but it made me fell nervous. I tried to call her but she wouldn't answer. Nevertheless, I continued sending messages.
Suddenly one night, just three days before our Lord's birthday. I heard my phone's message tone again... at last!It was from her!
"Oftentyms we say gudbye 2 d 1 we luv w/o wanting 2. Though dat doesn't mean dat we stopped loving dem or we stopped 2 care. Sometyms, GOODBYE is a painful way 2 say I LOVE YOU."
I was dumfounded. I didn't know what to think of. What did she mean? I texted her back, searching for answers, but found nothing. I called her but she would not answer.
For the first time in my life, I felt so miserable...desperate... empty. I didn't know what to do. I didn't want to lose her. I had learned to love her. And I wanted to be with her forever.
The following days I felt nothing but emptiness. It seemed that Mikaella took the life out of me. I missed her so much...her messages...The tones that would tell me she'd sent another loving message. Nothing around me could feel the emptiness I felt.
Tut...tut...tut...tut...tut...just a day before Christmas, my cell beeped again. It was her!
"Meet me at d café, 10 AM 2day," I read aloud, making sure the message was true, then I jumped with joy upon hearing from her again. Hurriedly, I got myself ready and I went to the mall. I knew it was still early, but I wanted to be there before she arrived.
I arrived at the meeting place ten minutes earlier. I was surprised to see her already there, smiling at me. She was very beautiful, Black, deep-set eyes that spoke a thousand words; small, kissable lips; a nose perfectly chiseled and long black hair - everything in her was beautiful. And yes, her eyes radiated kindness and love...but there was a flicker of something in them...sadness?
"Hi, Julius," said the angelic voice I had been dreaming of each night. The voice that I had waited to hear for so long. "Please sit down." "I am very pleased to meet you, Mikaella," I said, as I took my seat and gave the roses I brought for her.
"Thanks, Julius," she smiled, obviously pleased with the roses. I knew she loved pink roses.
"You are always welcome, Love" "Julius, I can't stay," she said, sadness in her voice, or was it tears? "I really must go."
"But we just met, Mikaella. Can't we talk a little longer?" I asked, pleadingly.
"I can't really. I just came here to see you and thank you for the time you shared with me. Thank you for everything, Julius. I will never forget you...you will always be here in my heart."

She was looking at me straight into the eyes, and I could really feel the sadness in her voice and I swear, there was something in her voice and I swear, there was something in those lovely yet lonely eyes...
She got up and smiled at me, lovingly.
"Tomorrow morning, please come and visit me," he said and gave me a piece of white linen paper.
I read what was written and when I looked up, she was gone. The following day, Christmas, I woke up early and excitedly readied myself,thinking of her. I hurriedly went to flower shop and bought a dozen pink roses - for Mikaella.
They lived in an exclusive subdivision.
Upon reaching their house, I told the guard who I was and that I was looking for Mikaella.
The guard stared at me, sadness and amazement in his eyes and told me to wait as he called the owner of the house. As I looked at him while he was going inside the house, only then I noticed that the house was brightly lit.
A woman went out and walked towards me, smiling sadly.
"Hi, I'm Maria, Mikaella's mother. Please come inside, Julius." While we were walking towards the mansion, she explained to me why she knew me very well - Mikaella had always been talking about her friend, Julius. I hardly understood what she was saying. I was busy thinking why Mikaella's mother was crying while talking to me.
As we came near the great hall of the house, it dawned on me that there was a wake inside, Maybe, a relative passed away, I thought. But deep in my heart, I was trembling and afraid.
As we entered the hall where so many people were silently mourning while others were praying, shaking, I asked her mother. "Where is Mikaella?"
She held my hand and silently, led me to the coffin which was surrounded by flowers - pink roses, nothing but pinkroses.
No words could explain how I felt when I gazed at the coffin and saw who was lying there. The same beautiful girl I met...
A man came beside me, I knew he was Mika's father.
"We are so glad you came, Julius. Mika talked of you all the time. She even asked that her phone be buried with her.
She said that in that way, you could still send her messages and you would always be with her."
I couldn't believe everything... My mind was in limbo.
"But how can this be? We just saw each other yesterday."
"That can't possibly be. She passed away three days ago. She had been suffering from a heart disease since she was a child," said her father.
"But..." I couldn't find the words to say.
"She told us not to bother reaching you, "her mother said, still in tears," she said you will come, and here you are.
Pain and bitterness overwhelmed me. I cried silently beside her, staring at her lovely face, memorizing every line of my friend's face, a face I knew I would never forget while I was still alive.
After the internment that afternoon, I went to the chapel she hadtold me she went everyday.
Sitting there praying and crying to God, I held my phone and typed: "U taught me how 2 care; u taught me how 2 b kind; u shwd me how 2 lyk som; u shwd me how 2 luv; but ders 1 thing didnt teach me & it hurts mor - u didnt teach me how 2 let go. I LOVE YOU"
I sent the message, and though I knew she wouldn't be able to hold her CP again, I knew in my heart she would get my message. I never expected a reply, yet as my phone beeped again,felt a shiver down my spine. The sender's number did not appear on the screen, and tears rolled down my cheeks as I read the message.

"Let go of d hand of d person u love, but dont let go of God's hand. 4 if u hold 2 his hand. He may b holding d person u love n d ader hand 2 let u hold each other again."
"I will never forget you, Mikaella and will never let go..." I vowed to her and to myself as I left the church.

A boy's love

2008-06-24T23:57:00.001+05:30

A good reminder: "Take time to appreciate what you have now." --Dont miss reading this one
On the last day before Christmas, I hurried to go to the supermarket to buy theremaining of the gift I didn't manage to buy earlier.
When I saw all the people there, I started to complain tomyself,"It is going to take forever here and I still have so many other places to go.Christmas really is getting more and more annoying every year.How I wish I could just lie down, go to sleep and only wake up after it..."
Nonetheless, I made my way to the toy section, and there I started to curse the prices, wondering if after all kids really pla ywith such expensive toys.
While looking in the toy section, I noticed a small boy of about 5 years old, pressing a doll against his chest. He kept on touching the hair of the doll and looked so sad. I wondered who was this doll for. Then the little boy turned to the old woman next to him, "Granny, are you sure I don't have enough money?"
The old lady replied, "You know that you don't have enough money to buy this doll, my dear."
Then she asked him to stay here for 5 minutes while she went to look around. She left quickly. The little boy was still holding the doll in his hand.
Finally, I started to walk toward him and I asked him who did he want to give this doll to."It is the doll that my sister loved most and wanted so much for this Christmas. She was so sure that Santa Claus would bring it to her."
I replied to him that may be Santa Claus will bring it to her, after all, and not to worry. But he replied to me sadly.
"No, Santa Claus can not bring it to her where she is now. I have to give the doll to my mother so that she can give it to her when she goes there."
His eyes were so sad while saying this.
"My sister has gone to be with God. Daddy says that Mummy will also go to see God very soon, so I thought that she could bring the doll with her to give it to my sister."

My heart nearly stopped. The little boy looked up at me and said, "I told daddy to tell mummy not to go yet. I asked him to wait until I come back from the supermarket."
Then he showed me a very nice photo of him where he was laughing. He then told me, "I also want mummy to take this photo with her so that she will not forget me."
I love my mummy and I wish she doesn't have to leave me but daddy says that she has to go to be with my little sister."
Then he looked again at the doll with sad eyes, very quietly.I quickly reachedfor my wallet and took a few notes and said to the boy, "What if we checkedagain, just in case if you have enough money?"
"Ok," he said. "I hope that I have enough."
I added some of my money to his without him seeing and we started to count it.There was enough for the doll, and even some spare money.
The little boy said, "Thank you God for giving me enough money."
Then he looked at me and added,"I asked yesterday before I slept for God tomake sure I have enough money to buy this doll so that mummy can give it to my sister. He heard me.""I also wanted to have enough money to buy a white rose for my mummy, but I didn't dare to ask God too much. But He gave me enough to buy the doll and the white rose."
"You know, my mummy loves white rose."
A few minutes later, the old lady came again and I left with my trolley. Ifinished my shopping in a totallydifferent state from when I started. I couldn't get the little boy out of mymind.
Then I remembered a local newspaper article 2 days ago, which mentioned of a drunk man in a truck who hit a car where there was one young lady and a little girl. The little girl died right away, and the mother was left in a critical state. The family had to decide whether to pull the plug on the life-assisting machine, because the young lady would not be able to get out of the coma.
Was this the family of the little boy?
Two days after this encounter with the little boy, I read in the newspaper that the young lady had passed away.I couldn't stop myself and went to buy a bunch of white roses and I went to the mortuary where the body of the young woman was exposed for people to see and make last wish before burial.

She was there, in her coffin, holding a beautiful white rosein her hand with the photo of the little boy and the doll placed over her chest. I left the place crying, feeling that my life had been changed forever. The love that this little boy had for his mother and his sister is still, to that day, hard to imagine. And in a fraction of a second, a drunk man had taken all this away from him.

Thinking of you

2008-06-24T23:56:00.000+05:30

Sophie's face faded into the gray winter light of the sitting room. She dozed in the armchair that Joe had bought for her on their fortieth anniversary. The room was warm and quiet. Outside it was snowing lightly.
At a quarter past one the mailman turned the corner onto Allen Street. He was behind on his route, not because of the snow, but because it was Valentine's Day and there was more mail than usual. He passed Sophie's house without looking up. Twenty minutes later he climbed back into his truck and drove off.
Sophie stirred when she heard the mail truck pull away, then took off her glasses and wipe her mouth and eyes with the handkerchief she always carried in her sleeve. She pushed herself up using the arm of the chair for support, straightened slowly and smoothed the lap of her dark green housedress.
Her slippers made a soft, shuffling sound on the bare floor as she walked to the kitchen. She stopped at the sink to wah the two dishes she had left on the counter after lunch. Then she filled a plastic cup halfway with water and took her pills. It was one forty-five.
There was a rocker in the sitting room by the front window. Sophie eased herself into it. In a half-hour the children would be passing by on their way home from school. Sophie waited, rocking and watching the snow.
The boys came first, as always, runnng and calling out things Sophie could not hear. Today they were making snowball as they went, throwing them at one another. One snowball missed and smackd hard into Sophie's window. She jerked backward, and the rocker slipped off the edge of her oval rag rug.
The girl dilly-dallied after the boys, in twos and threes, cupping their mittened hands over their mouths and giggling. Sophie wonder if they were telling each other about the valentines they had received at school. One pretty girl with long brown hair stopped and pointed to her face behind the drapes, suddenly self-consious. When she looked out again, the boys and girls were gone. It was cold by the window, but she stayed there watching the snow conver the children's footprints
A florist's truck turned onto Allen Street. Sophie followed it with her eyes. It was moving slowly. Twice it stopped and started again. Then the driver pulled up in front of Mrs. Mason's house next door and parked.Who would be sending Mrs. Mason flowers? Sophie wondered. Her daughter in Wisconsin? Or her brother? No, her brother was very ill. It was probably her daughter. How nice of her.
Flowers made Sophie think of Joe and, for a moment, she let the aching memory fill her. Tomorrow was the fifteenth. Eight months since his death.
The flower mans was knocking at Mrs. Mason's front door. He carried a long white and green box and a clipboard. No one seemed to be answering. Of course! It was Friday - Mrs. Mason quilted at the church on Friday afternoons. the delivery man looked around, then started toward Sophie's house.
Sophie shoved herself out of the rocker and stood close to the drapes. The man knocked. Her hands trembled as she straightened her hair. She reached her front hall on the third knock.
"Yes?" she said, peering around a slightly opened door. "Good afternoon, ma'am," the man said loudly. "Would you take a delivery for your neighbor?"
"Yes," Sophie answered, pulling the door wide open. "Where would you like me to put them?" the man asked politely as he strode in.
"In the kitchen, please. On the table." The man looked big to Sophie. She could hardly see his face between his green cap and full beard. Sophie was glad he left quickly, and she locked the door after him.
The box was as long as the kitchen table. Sophie drew near to it and bent over to read the lettering: "NATALIE'S Flowers for Every Occasion." The rich smell of roses engulfed her. She closed her eyes and took slower breaths, imagining yellow roses. Joe had always chosen yellow. "To my sunshine," he would say, presenting the extravagant bouquet. He would laugh delightedly, kiss her on the forehead, then take her hands in his and sing to her "You Are My Sunshine."
It's was five o'clock when Mrs. Mason knocked at Sophie's front door. Sophie was still at the kitchen table. The flower box was now open though, and she held the roses on her lap, swaying slightly and stroking the delicate yellow petals. Mrs. Mason knocked again, but Sophie did not hear her, and after several minutes the neighbour left.
Sophie rose a little while later, laying the flowers on the kitchen table. Her cheeks were flushed. She dragged a stepstool across the kitchen floor and lifted a white porcelain vase from the top corner cabinet. Using a drinking glass, she filled the vase with water, then tenderly arranged the roses and greens, and carried them into the sitting room.
She was smiling as she reached the middle of the room. She turned slightly and began to dip and twirl in small slow circles. She stepped lightly, gracefully, around the sitting room, into the kitchen, down the hall, back again. She danced till her knees grew weak, and then she dropped into the armchair and slept.
At a quarter past six, Sophie awoke with a start. Someone was knocking on the back door this time. It was Mrs. Mason.
"Hello, Sophie," Mrs. Mason said. "How are you? I knocked at five and was a little worried when you didn't come. Were you napping?" She chattered as she wiped her snowy boots on the welcome mat and stepped inside. "I just hate snow, don't you? The radio says we might have six inches by midnight, but you can never trust them, you know. Do you remember last winter when they predicted four inches, and we hand twenty-one? Twenty-one! And they said we'd have a mild winter this year. Ha! I don't think it's been over zero in weeks. Do you know my oil bill was $263 last month? For my little house!"
Sophie was only half-listening. She had remembered the roses suddenly and was turning hot with shame. The empty flower box was behind her on the kitchen table. What would she say to Mrs. Mason?
"I don't know how much longer I can keep paying the bills. If only Alfred, God bless him, had been as careful with money as your Joseph. Joseph! Oh, good heavens! I almost forgot about the roses."Sophie's cheeks burned. She began to stammer an apology, stepping aside to reveal the empty box.

"Oh, good," Mrs. Mason interrupted. "You put the roses in water. Then you saw the card. I hope it didn't startle your to see Joseph's handwriting. Joseph had asked me to bring you the roses the first year, so I could explain for him. He didn't want to alarm you. His 'Rose Trust,' I think he called it. He arranged it with the florist last Apirl. Such a good man, your Joseph..."
But Sophie had stopped listening. Her heart was pounding as she picked up the small white envelope she had missed earlier. It had been lying beside the flower box all this time. With trembling hands, she removed the card.
"To my sunshine," it said. "I love you with all my heart. Try to be happy when you think of me. Love, Joe."

Chain of love

2008-06-24T23:54:00.000+05:30

He was driving home one evening, on a two-lane country road. Work, in this small Midwestern community, was almost as slow as his beat-up Pontiac. But he never quit looking. Ever since the factory closed, he'd been unemployed, and with winter raging on, the chill had finally hit home.
It was a lonely road. Not very many people had a reason to be on it, unless they were leaving. Most of his friends had already left. They had families to feed and dreams to fulfill. But he stayed on. After all, this was where he buried his mother and father. He was born here and knew the country. He could go down this road blind, and tell you what was on either side, and with his headlights not working, that came in handy.
It was starting to get dark and light snow flurries were coming down. He'd better get a move on. You know, he almost didn't see the old lady, stranded on the side of the road. But even in the dim light of day, he could see she needed help. So he pulled up in front of her Mercedes and got out. His Pontiac was still sputtering when he approached her. Even with the smile on his face, she was worried. No one had stopped to help for the last hour or so. Was he going to hurt her? He didn't look safe, he looked poor and hungry.
He could see that she was frightened, standing out there in the cold. He knew how she felt. It was that chill which only fear can put in you. He said, "I'm here to help you ma'am. Why don't you wait in the car where it's warm? By the way, my name is Bryan."
Well, all she had was a flat tire, but for an old lady, that was bad enough. Bryan crawled under the car looking for a place to put the jack, skinning his knuckles a time or two. Soon he was able to change the tire. But he had to get dirty and his hands hurt. As he was tightening up the lug nuts, she rolled down the window and began to talk to him. She told him that she was from St. Louis and was only just passing through. She couldn't thank him enough for coming to her aid. Bryan just smiled as he closed her trunk.
She asked him how much she owed him. Any amount would have been all right with her. She had already imagined all the awful things that could have happened had he not stopped. Bryan never thought twice about the money. This was not a job to him. This was helping someone in need, and God knows there were plenty who had given him a hand in the past. He had lived his whole life that way, and it never occurred to him to act any other way. He told her that if she really wanted to pay him back, the next time she saw someone who needed help, she could give that person the assistance that they needed, and Bryan added "...and think of me."
He waited until she started her car and drove off. It had been a cold and depressing day, but he felt good as he headed for home, disappearing into the twilight. A few miles down the road the lady saw a small cafe. She went in to grab a bite to eat, and take the chill off before she made the last leg of her trip home. It was a dingy looking restaurant.
Outside were two old gas pumps. The whole scene was unfamiliar to her. The cash register was like the telephone of an out of work actor. It didn't ring much. Her waitress came over and brought a clean towel to wipe her wet hair. She had a sweet smile, one that even being on her feet for the whole day couldn't erase. The lady noticed that the waitress was nearly eight months pregnant, but she never let the strain and aches change her attitude. The old lady wondered how someone who had so little could be so giving to a stranger. Then she remembered Bryan.
After the lady finished her meal and the waitress went to get change for her hundred dollar bill, the lady slipped right out the door. She was gone by the time the waitress came back. She wondered where the lady could be, and then she noticed something written on a napkin. There were tears in her eyes when she read what the lady wrote. It said:
"You don't owe me anything, I have been there too. Somebody once helped ME out, the way I'm helping you. If you really want to pay me back, here is what you do: Do not let this chain of love end with you."
Well, there were tables to clear, sugar bowls to fill, and people to serve, but the waitress made it through another day. That night when she got home from work and climbed into bed, she was thinking about the money and what the lady had written. How could the lady have known how much she and her husband needed it? With the baby due next month, it was going to be hard. She knew how worried her husband was, and as he lay sleeping next to her, she gave him a soft kiss and whispered soft and low, "Everything's going to be all right, I love you, Bryan."

Please note that this story is an expanded version of the song Chain Of Love by Clay Walker. All rights for this story belong to its respective owners and Love Fate Destiny does not owe any rights to this story.

Men are from mars,Women are from venus

2008-06-24T23:53:00.001+05:30

You know that book "Men are from Mars, Women from Venus"? Well, here's a prime example of that. The unverified claim is that this was turned in as an actual English assignment.
Today we will experiment with a new form called the tandem story. The process is simple. Each person will pair off with the person, sitting to his or her immediate right. One of you will then write the first paragraph of a short story. The partner will read the first paragraph and then add another paragraph to the story. The first person will then add a third paragraph, and so on back and forth. Remember to re-read what has been written each time, in order to keep the story coherent. The story is over when both agree a conclusion has been reached.-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Rebecca [last name deleted] and Gary [last name deleted]English 44ASMUCreative WritingProf. MillerIn-class Assignment for Wednesday
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------At first, Laurie couldn't decide which kind of tea she wanted. The camomile, which used to be her favorite for lazy evenings at home, now reminded her too much of Carl, who once said, in happier times, that he liked camomile. But she felt she must now, at all costs, keep her mind off Carl. His possessiveness was suffocating, and if she thought about him too much, her asthma started acting up again. So camomile was out of the question. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------Meanwhile, Advance Sergeant Carl Harris, leader of the attack squadron now in orbit over Skylon 4, had more important things to think about than the neuroses of an air-headed asthmatic bimbo named Laurie, with whom he had spent one sweaty night over a year ago. "A.S. Harris to Geostation 17," he said into his transgalactic communicator. "Polar orbit established. No sign of resistance so far ..." But before he could sign off a bluish particle beam flashed out of nowhere and blasted a hole through his ship's cargo bay. The jolt from the direct hit sent him flying out of his seat and across the cockpit. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------He bumped his head and died almost immediately, but not before he felt one last pang of regret for psychically brutalizing the one woman who had ever had feelings for him. Soon afterwards, Earth stopped its pointless hostilities towards the peaceful farmers of Skylon 4. "Congress Passes Law Permanently Abolishing War and Space Travel," Laurie read in her newspaper one morning. The news simultaneously excited her and bored her. She stared out the window, dreaming of her youth -- when the days had passed unhurriedly and carefree, with no newspapers to read, no television to distract her from her sense of innocent wonder at all the beautiful things around her. "Why must one lose one's innocence to become a woman?", she pondered wistfully.

I'm sorry I lied

2008-06-24T23:52:00.000+05:30

Jenny was so happy about the house they had found. For once in her life that was on the right side of town. She unpacked her things with such great ease. As she watched her new curtains blow in the breeze. How wonderful it was to have her own room. School would be starting, she would have friends over soon. There will be sleep-overs, and parties. She was so happy. It's just the way she wanted her life to be.
On the first day of school, everything went great. She made new friends and even got a date! She thought, "I want to be popular and I'm going to be, because I just got a date with the star of the team!" To be known in this school you had to have a clout, and dating this guy would sure help her out. There was only one problem stopping her fate. Her parents had said she was too young to date. "Well I just won't tell them the entire truth. They won't know the difference. What's there to lose?"
Jenny asked to stay with her friends that night. Her parents frowned but said, "All right." Excited, she got ready for the big event. But as she rushed around like she had no sense, she began to feel guilty about all the lies, but what's a pizza, a party, and a moonlight ride? Well the pizza was good, and the party was great, and the moonlight ride would have to wait, for Jeff was half drunk by this time.
But he kissed her and said that he was just fine. Then the room filled with smoked and Jeff took a puff. Jenny couldn't believe he was smoking that stuff. Now Jeff was ready to ride to the point, but only after he'd smoked another joint.
They jumped in the car for the moonlight ride, not thinking that he was too drunk to drive. They finally made it to the point at last, and Jeff started trying to make a pass. A pass is not what Jenny wanted at all (and by a pass, I don't mean playing football.) "Perhaps my parents were right. Maybe I am too young. Boy, how could I ever, ever be so dumb?" With all of her might, she pushed Jeff away, "Please take me home, I don't want to stay."
Jeff cranked up the engine and floored the gas. In a matter of seconds they were going too fast. As Jeff drove on in a fit of wild anger, Jenny knew that her life was in danger. She begged and pleaded for him to slow down, but he just got faster as they neared the town. "Just let me get home! I'll confess that I lied. I really went out for a moonlight ride."
Then all of a sudden, she saw a big flash. "Oh God, Please help us! We're going to crash!" She doesn't remember the force of impact. Just that everything all of a sudden went black. She felt someone remove her from the twisted rubble, and heard, "Call an ambulance! These kids are in trouble!" Voices she heard, a few words at best. But she knew there were two cars involved in the wreck.
Then wondered to herself if Jeff was all right, and if the people in the other car was alive. She awoke in the hospital to faces so sad. "You've been in a wreck and it looks pretty bad." These voices echoed inside her head, as they gently told her that Jeff was dead. They said "Jenny, we've done all we can do. But it looks as if we'll lose you too." "But the people in the other car?" Jenny cried. "We're sorry, Jenny, they also died."

Jenny prayed, "God, forgive me for what I've done. I only wanted to have just one night of fun." "Tell those people's family, I've made their lives dim, and wish I could return their families to them." "Tell Mom and Dad I'm sorry I lied, and that it's my fault so many have died. Oh, nurse, won't you please tell them that for me?"
The nurse just stood there. She never agreed. But took Jenny's hand with tears in her eyes. And a few moments later Jenny died. A man asked the nurse, "Why didn't you do your best to bid that girl her one last request?" She looked at the man with eyes so sad. "Because the people in the other car were her mom and dad."