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Short story written by American science fiction author and physician, Alan E. Nourse.
Ranging from dark tales of vampires and serial killers to tongue-in-cheek science fiction to comedy and farce, My Shorts, by author Bert G. Osterberg, shares an eclectic collection of short stories centering on life, death, and laughter. The Option was written while Osterberg contemplated his past. High School was inspired by a plot twist in Tchaikovskys opera, The Queen of Spades, and recalls his own tortured high school career. To Amerikay calls on his love of history as told in the stories of ordinary people who do extraordinary things. Three Views shares Osterbergs political statement. Netties Triumph was penned for his granddaughter to illustrate when she was in grade school. And My Aunt Ruth tells about this feisty woman who lived in Michigan all of her life. From a suspenseful story of a dark castle in Transylvania to a fanciful encounter with a wonderfully strange fifth grade teacher, this collection of tales entertains and often challenges conventional ideas and notions.
Bobby Murphy was a popular high school senior and a star athlete when his world turned upside down after an accident that left him without the use of his legs. With a supportive family and good friends, Bobby struggled with his disability, learning to overcome the obstacles that someone who cannot walk faces. He then found success on the baseball field and the love of a special girl.
It has been four years since Bob Moore died in a tragic car accident on a foggy California road. His best friend, Rick, who regularly drives by the accident scene, cannot help but stare at the makeshift memorial that was erected on the side of the road. He desperately misses Bob and wishes for just one more conversation with his funny, humble, and loyal buddy. While driving by the site one day, Rick is overcome with an uncontrollable urge to stop. After he gets out of his truck, Rick receives the surprise of his life when Bob appears before him. Shocked that he is talking to a spirit, Rick can hardly contain his excitement as he invites Bob in his pickup and heads back to one of their favorite haunts to catch up. After the two pair up, Rick, who is a newly licensed private investigator, begins to rely on Bob for insight. Soon, Bob is helping Rick solve cases. But the tables turn when Bob allows Rick to see other spirits, instigating a journey into the past where Rick connects with his memories and faces his own mortality. Bobbys Song is the poignant tale of two friends determined to not let death separate them as they slowly learn that true friendship has the power to cross every dimension.
From the Fab Five--the beloved hosts of Netflix's viral hit Queer Eye--comes a book that is at once a behind-the-scenes exclusive, a practical guide to living and celebrating your best life, and a symbol of hope. Feeling your best is about far more than deciding what color to paint your accent wall or how to apply nightly moisturizer. It's also about creating a life that's well-rounded, filled with humor and understanding--and most importantly, that suits you. At a cultural moment when we are all craving people to admire, Queer Eye offers hope and acceptance. After you get to know the Fab Five, together they will guide you through five practical chapters that go beyond their designated areas of expertise (food & wine, fashion, grooming, home decor, and culture), touching on topics like wellness, entertaining, and defining your personal brand, and complete with bite-sized Hip Tips for your everyday quandaries. Above all else, Queer Eye aims to help you create a happy and healthy life, rooted in self-love and authenticity.
Eleven stories of collies, as children's pets, farmers' steady helpers, trackers or slayers of vicious beasts, and companions of very different men and one story of a wolf as tame and devoted as a dog.
Where would we be without the support of good friends? Who else but a friend could offer the love, humor, and edifying truth that infuses From a Friend's Heart? Meditations on subjects such as laughing, mutual respect, fellowship, acceptance, and communication fill the pages of this stunning photo essay. The From the Heart Series is handsomely designed with four-color design and stunning duotone photography, giving the books a soft, ethereal feel. Each of the fifty emotive meditations communicates universal sentiments and experiences, focusing on a specific relationship, and includes an inspiring quotation or Scripture verse. Other books in this series include From a Grandmother's Heart and From a Daughter's Heart to Her Mom.
Our mission was to get dropped off and walk about 4 clicks around and up and down and sideways (you get the picture) to our rally point. We were setting in an ambush. See, we go out and give the locals rice, blankets, beans, backpacks, etc. The tallytards come like a lunchtime bully and beat up the elder and burn everything we give them.' -Sgt Jordan Kriner When a soldier goes to war, it becomes a mission not only for himself and his brothers in arms but for the mothers, fathers, families, and communities that he leaves at home. Jordan Kriner followed a different path to the military than most. At twenty-four years old, he determined that his destiny was in service to his country, just as it had been for both his parents. Theresa Kriner knew she could not change her son's mind. The military was going to take her son and make him into a soldier. Her job would be to keep him human. Through the letters and reflections of the Kriner family, Your Personal Soldier is the revealing story of a man at war and the family, friends, churches, and communities left behind. As Sergeant Kriner fights for freedom on the frontlines of Afghanistan, his family is left to try to continue living a 'normal' life in the most abnormal of circumstances. Sometimes gritty, sometimes heartfelt, Your Personal Soldier describes the true toll of war.
This book is a reflection on finding my soul mate at a young age and then losing him to the war in Afghanistan. It will describe my relationship with Bobby Pagan, our deployment to Afghanistan, being notified that he was killed in action, the healing process, and a snippet of how life has been after his loss. My book will deliver a clear insight on what it is like to lose a loved one to war, the events that took place after the casualty report was received, and the journey through healing as I have lived on without my significant other. This book will depict some very painful memories but will also entail a beautiful love story that unfortunately had a tragic end. When my fiance was killed in action, I went through the motions, but I was numb and in utter shock. When I was finally ready to accept and face my loss, I felt so alone because people felt uncomfortable discussing the topic. I want to take my readers on my journey through my eyes, have them feel the raw emotions that I felt throughout the process, and show them what I went through. I also want to shed light on my experience of grief and mourning. I want people who have lost a loved one to know that they are not alone and that there is no time limit on grieving. If that concept alone can bring some sort of comfort to someone, then I'd have accomplished my mission in sharing my story. I pray that this book somehow touches the heart of others, especially those who have experienced a loss like I have. There are no words that can ever make it any better, but know that you are not alone.
Tom Larkin paid fifty grand for his brilliant red casket months before they planned a sailor’s funeral for him that night. His coffin cruised at 120 mph with its dash lit like a jet’s cockpit, where the most-important reading to Larkin glowed on his Porsche’s digital clock--4:00 AM. Perhaps it was his darkest moment before dawn, but he had other plans. He drove recklessly, hydroplaning northbound on Manhattan’s flooded FDR Drive through sheets of pouring rain. The drive home took an hour, but, with minimal visibility in a torrential downpour, the flooded Harlem River Drive leading to the George Washington Bridge concealed potholes rattling the fine suspension of his German-made wet dream. Larkin’s greater problem—DWI—was a given they had counted on. Still, they drugged his last sour mash at Rao’s, just to up the prelude’s tempo to an evening dirge. With the bad weather, his inebri- ation, and hallucinations from a subtle drug taking hold of his senses, the distance between Larkin and home lengthened as time became his enemy. Vera, his wife, told him she’d kill him the next time he stumbled in after daybreak. It was no idle threat. He knew she could kill in a crime of passion, especially him. Death lurked at the start and finish of his race homeward, but, with two strikes against him, only he could fathom the third --his bent to self destruction. If all went as planned, Harbor Police would find Tom Larkin dead behind the wheel after hitting the muddy bottom of the East River, or any other river. They just wanted him gone, stateside or overseas, no matter what. Larkin still felt sharp an hour after downing his third double Jack Daniels. In his mind, past, present, and future were clear. Remembering his hat size, Social Security number, and the measurements of a dozen bimbos was no problem. He could read his driver’s license number from three paces, backward, upside down, with either eye or both—without glasses. He’d been sharp for two hours before he started driving, but an hour after his last belt, the one first kicked in with the drugs and compounded his usual buzz. Seeing Vera as more dangerous than the road, he sped recklessly despite the hazardous conditions. He had no idea anyone wanted to kill him for anything other than his flagrant infidelities. To his right, the black depths of the East River was a fatal attraction. He could be a loser on two counts, but there was a third alternative, the loser’s hat trick--call strike-three without a swat to stay alive. His own worst enemy, he knew they might find him dead before dawn on all three counts. “Bastards,” he grumbled, cursing his so called buddies who let him get behind the wheel after he had been pumping drinks for hours. Their names escaped him. So much for clarity. Sharp as a rose thorn? he wondered. My ass. Where were those faceless nonentities? They were friends enough to buy his fourth drink in a dingy saloon, yet, they had turned their backs when he squinted to read the address on his parking stub. Had they callously watched him stumbling to his Porsche trying to get the himself home? So much for twenty-twenty fucking vision, he thought. Vera will kill me if I’m not out of here. What time you got, Pal? I can’t read my damn watch.” His mind and car sped out of control at a mile a minute. The East River beckoned. Who could ever see clearly in a dim twilight between happy hour and an untimely death? He shrugged and imagined seeing his own hands clutching the steering wheel but saw no flesh, only bone. In the rearview mirror, he caught the malicious grins of three Mexican capungos, bandits who’d kill as soon as spit.