The stories here are my memories, some poems, and some short stories that I have written. I hope you enjoy a peek into my chaotic mind and leave my page with a laugh or two. Feel free to leave a comment with your thoughts on my stories. Have a great day!
Last night I sat in my chair with my legs up and tilted back slightly. Louie was between my knees. I fell asleep and slipped into a vivid dream. I don’t know if you ever had a vivid dream, but to me it’s like a shift in reality. One moment I’m sitting in my chair petting Louie. I blink my eyes, and I am now sitting in a medieval tavern. I was eating a stew made of root vegetables and broth. It wasn’t great, but it was food. Elden sauntered up to the table and sat across from me. It had been several days since I’d won what little coin he’d had in a card game. He eyed my bowl of stew and flagon of mead before speaking. “It must be nice to buy mead and stew,” Elden said with a touch of disgust. “I’ll pay for a bowl of stew for you if you like,” I said. Elden pull a blade and pointed it at my throat. I dropped my spoon in the bowl and looked at him. “The bounty on your head will feed me for a month,” Elden said with a smile. The smile disappeared...
I bumped into a man stocking shelves in a local store in a nearby town. He apologized for having to turn his wheelchair around in front of me. I told him that I wasn’t in a hurry, and it wasn’t a big deal. I told him that he was an inspiration. In a time when able bodied people claimed they couldn’t find a job, a man in a wheelchair was working harder than most of today’s young people would want to. He told me he didn’t want to be an inspiration because of his handicap. He wanted to be an inspiration for his love of God. He was humble because God says that we shouldn’t be prideful. He did what he did because God gave him the strength to carry on each day. His body wasn’t a reflection of him. The Holy Spirit and what filled his head and heart was what made him who he was. He shared the gospel every chance he got. He said that he often talked to people that came in th...
When I think about my grandparents, I have four different types of memories. I only visited my Grandma Sutton a few times a year. My earliest memory of her is at my dad’s childhood home. I’m sitting in the kitchen listening to my mom and my grandma talk. I’m not sure what they were talking about because I heard adults talking to each other like adults on Charlie Brown specials. Waaah, waaa, wa, Waah, wa. There was a pitcher pump inside the kitchen. She gave me a container of strawberry yogurt from the 60’s style refrigerator. I’ve always liked strawberry yogurt. I can hear her voice, but there’s not many specific memories. I never got to meet my grandpa Sutton. I feel like I knew him, though. I’ve heard stories about him since I was very little. Recently I’ve written down several of them before I forget them. I’ve got so many questions I would like to ask him, but I can’t. I rely on what my aunt and my dad have told me. My grandpa Townsend told me my grandpa Sutton carried...
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