Series
LHS Class of 01 Reunion '16
Students—now adults with briefcases, tattoos, and children in tow—milled about, exchanging updates about careers, marriages, and the occasional misadventure involving a misplaced mortgage payment. In the center of the bustling scene, a long wooden table was laden with platters of finger foods, a towering chocolate cake bearing a handwritten “Happy Retirement, Mrs. Wilkes!” in glossy frosting, and a modest, polished podium that would soon witness a cascade of heartfelt speeches. The scent of roasted chicken mingled with the faint perfume of fresh lilies, a subtle homage to the teacher who had once insisted that “a good education smelled like curiosity, not cafeteria pizza.” The hum of conversation rose and fell like a familiar chorus, each voice stitching together the fragmented memories of a generation that had once been shepherded by a woman whose patience seemed as endless as the school’s hallway lockers.
By Forest Green12 days ago in Fiction
“Very Dark Times” OF USA
Ray Dalio Warns: The United States May Be Heading Into “Very Dark Times” Billionaire investor Ray Dalio has issued a stark warning: the United States may be heading into “very dark times.” His concerns are not based on short-term politics but on long-term historical patterns that have shaped the rise and fall of global superpowers.
By Wings of Time 13 days ago in Fiction
LHS Class of 01 Reunion '16
As the evening progressed, the band kicked in a soft jazz rendition of a song that had become the unofficial anthem of their senior year, and the lights dimmed to a mellow amber, casting shadows that danced across the polished floor. Joan raised her glass again, this time to the future, and said, “Mrs. Wilkes taught us to be brave enough to rewrite our own endings, and tonight we celebrate not just her past, but the countless tomorrows she inspired.” A soft murmur of agreement rippled through the crowd, punctuated by the occasional clink of crystal and the occasional sigh of nostalgia. Emily, feeling the swell of emotion, added, “May we all carry her wisdom forward, turning every obstacle into a paragraph of triumph, just as she turned our doubts into essays of confidence.”
By Forest Green13 days ago in Fiction
LHS Class of 01 Reunion '16
Megan stood at the head of the long, oak‑finished table, the soft glow of the chandelier throwing honeyed light across the polished surface, and she felt a flutter of nervous excitement as the murmuring crowd of former seniors and faculty began to settle into their seats. The high‑school reunion, cleverly merged with Mrs. Wilkes’ retirement celebration, had turned the gymnasium into a nostalgic ballroom, draped in banners that read “Class of ’01 – Forever United” and “Congratulations, Mrs. Wilkes!” The scent of fresh lilies mingled with the faint tang of cinnamon from the catering trays, while old yearbooks lay open on the sideboard, each page turning like a quiet reminder of the past. Megan cleared her throat, glanced at the photo of Mrs. Wilkes in her cap and gown, and began, “To the woman who taught us that words could change the world, and whose patience was as endless as the chalk dust that settled on her desk.” Her voice, steady but warm, carried the weight of thirty years of gratitude, and the room fell into a reverent hush, the kind that only true admiration can summon.
By Forest Green13 days ago in Fiction
LHS Class of 01 Reunion '16
The logistical challenges of timing the speeches loomed large, prompting Joan to draft a detailed itinerary that allotted precise minutes for each segment. She allocated thirty minutes for the high‑school reunion’s opening remarks, followed by a fifteen‑minute icebreaker that encouraged alumni to share “most embarrassing moment” anecdotes, a tradition that always sparked laughter. Immediately after, the schedule called for a ten‑minute tribute to Mrs. Wilkes, delivered by her long‑time assistant principal, who would recount her impact on generations of students. The plan also included a “memory lane” walk, where guests could peruse a curated display of yearbook pages, class photos, and a timeline of Mrs. Wilkes’ career milestones, all while refreshments flowed. Megan, noting the importance of keeping the energy high, proposed that the final hour be reserved for dancing and a celebratory send‑off, complete with sparklers for the retirement portion and a nostalgic “class of ’01” banner unfurling at the climax, ensuring both groups felt equally celebrated.
By Forest Green13 days ago in Fiction
LHS Class of 01 Reunion '16
Megan drifted into Joan’s kitchen with a tote bag slung over her shoulder, the faint rustle of recycled school yearbooks still echoing in her mind. The sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a warm amber glow over the mismatched tableware that Joan had gathered for the upcoming gathering. As they set down mugs of steaming tea, the two women fell into a rhythm of conversation that quickly pivoted to the logistics of merging two seemingly disparate events: the high‑school reunion for the class of ’01 and Mrs. Wilkes’ long‑awaited retirement celebration. Megan, her eyes bright with the thrill of nostalgia, suggested they treat the day as a “dual‑honor” affair, allowing the former classmates to reminisce while simultaneously honoring the beloved teacher who had shaped their adolescent lives. Joan, ever the pragmatist, began to sketch a timeline on a scrap of notepad, noting the inevitable conflicts of crowd flow, dietary preferences, and the delicate balance required to honor both milestones without one eclipsing the other.
By Forest Green13 days ago in Fiction
Above From Below: Part 5
Red skies appeared slowly over the Texas horizon as the morning suns brought new life to the area. The roads weren't as saturated as they were to the north, and 1970, black, Challenger sped through the desolate part of the state as it headed to the area Nico was killed. Rick's weary eyes were heavy from driving straight through. He'd only made one stop near any form of civilization.
By Jason Morton13 days ago in Fiction
YNs
2025 Water cascaded in the shower. Memories of traveling in the sunlight illuminated in his mind. In her mind, she considered the future and what would shine in her soul. Gertz Lockman felt his body but his mind kept traversing the streets of Wilmington, Delaware. Julisia Montoya thought about plans to come up amongst the spasms of ecstasy she experienced with the water on both of their bodies. Lockman felt the rush of his mind speeding up the vehicle over the streets. Julisia sustained those pangs of pleasure even more as she looked at the calendar in her thoughts. Then, the day switched back in time to the day they had recognized the weight of this act and she slammed the calendar shut in her head. Lockman stopped his car in his own at the apartment complex.
By Skyler Saunders14 days ago in Fiction
YNs
2003 The tan 2002 Audi 80 parked near her English teacher’s 2000 Hyundai Sonata. Hazetta Vertick leaned back and steamed an L with her boyfriend, Rondell Boyler in her leather seat. He was fit as a wrestler where he had won championships for Delaware. A grey sweatsuit and blue jeans and butter Timberland boots enveloped his person. Both aged eighteen, they saw graduation from high school on the horizon and wanted desperately to just graduate and get it over with already. College would separate them by a few miles as she would matriculate to New Sweden University and he to First State Community College. She looked pitch black with blue eye contacts. Her cheek bones and nose all corresponded to an image of grace and harmony. A green blouse with a slim gold chain clung to her frame and hung around her neck, respectively. She wore icy white Adidas sneakers to compliment her black jeans. Her hair had flowed down to her shoulders and she wore cherry red lipstick. It was May 2nd. They listened to Get Rich or Die Trying on the car’s CD player. She looked over to him.
By Skyler Saunders14 days ago in Fiction
YNs
1994 The spider crawled to the fly. She played with it. Then, she started to take in the essence of the paralyzed flying insect. Dophilius Holmes swept away the spider and the web. He walked off his Wilmington, Delaware porch. He kept sweeping with a vigor and intensity usually reserved for circus acts or skilled marksmen.
By Skyler Saunders14 days ago in Fiction
