Story About Trying Out Heart Attack For Fun

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Hello everyone,

Recently I had to watch over a group of the neighbors’ kids.

Normally, you would think that this is not a bad job, as long as you are not watching over a group of toddlers.

Wrong.

I had a group of lovely and well-behaved children, ranging from third graders to eighth graders.

“So, what’s the problem?” you wonder.

Well, the problem was to keep them all entertained at the same time.

“Easy,” you say. “Just hand them each a tablet or something and download something appropriate for their age groups. That’ll keep them occupied for hours. Problem solved! Mission accomplished!”

Yes. If only it were that simple.

Unfortunately, the weather played a prank on us. As soon as the adults dropped them off, a storm arrived unexpectedly and there was a power outage throughout the town.

I groaned and sighed, along with the kids. It appeared that this was going to be a long day.

Since the children just finished their meals, and they were all staring at me with those you-might-as-well-kill-me-now-because-my-Ipad-is-dead kind of look, I knew I had to think of something fast. More

Story about Strawberry Bon-Bons

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Hello everyone,

One of my favorite types of candy is the strawberry bon-bons, the type of hard candy with soft filling and a fresh strawberry flavor.

When I was little, I used to collect the strawberry sachet wraps. I loved the design of those wraps, and when I finished eating those candies, I loved the smell of strawberry scent that lingered on the wraps.

I still love strawberry bon-bons to this day, but that’s not the only reason why I do. Every time I saw those delicacies, I thought about my very first trick-or-treating experience without my parents and how special the strawberry bon-bons had become to me.

I was in fifth grade and my parents had finally agreed to let me go trick-or-treating with my friends. So down the streets we ran, each of us trying to fill up our own goodie bag faster than the others. We ran past a small housing community, but something caught my attention.

I found myself running back and standing outside a house with a small, plastic jack-o-lantern that hung beside the doorway.

“Come on,” urged my friends. “You are not going to get much from this one. Let’s go where most kids go!”

I considered it briefly, but looking at the bright orange lantern before me and the darkness surrounding the rest of community, I rapped loudly on the door, ignoring my friends’ protests. More

Story about Face Jug

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Hello everyone,

My nephew showed me a pot he made in the school today. I praised him for his artisanship and it seemed as though I have made his day.

Suddenly, I remembered a face jug I molded in fifth grade.

Did you know that “face jugs” or “ugly jugs” are crafts originated from the mountain of North Georgia and Western North Carolina? It is believed that people used to make those jugs to ward off evil spirits.

I guess you could say the term fits my jug very well. It was “ugly,” all right.

But it wasn’t supposed to be hideous at all. If my memory serves me right, it was supposed to be a gift to my history teacher who loved pottery collection.

The first little accident occurred after I left my jug in the firing room to dry.  This explained why my jug had a face with its mouth skewed and drooped terribly to the side. Obviously someone from another class was jealous of my artwork and had touched it before it dried.

The second little accident happened when I forgot to check the label before I added the colorants to the clay. As it turns out, the colors on the pottery changed after it had been fired up. This explained why I couldn’t recognize it at first when my art teacher waved an ugly and darkish blue jug in the air.

“Come and get your jug,” she said.

“It’s not mine,” I answered after a brief glance.

She wasn’t convinced. She turned to the bottom of the jug. “It IS yours,” she confirmed. “It has your name carved on the bottom.”

I could feel my cheeks burning as I pushed through the laughing crowd to claim my jug.

Upon a closer look, it looked more hideous than I’d thought. In addition to the freakish blue color on the face, its mouth had a pair of bloodied lips. I nearly passed out with embarrassment. More

Story about a Boy, a Grandfather, and a Horse

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Hello everyone,

Have you ever had a feeling that, no matter what you do, someone will always say something about it?

I sure have.

The story I am about to share with you helps me feel better whenever that happens. I hope it does the same for you.

Once upon a time, a boy and his grandfather were traveling together on a long journey.

The elderly man became tired easily so he rode on the back of an old mare while the boy traveled on foot.

By noon, they came upon the first village.

“Look at that poor thing!” a villager cried, pointing at the boy who carried a heavy trunk twice of his size. “That’s child abuse!”

The other villagers murmured in agreement and soon a crowd of people gathered. They glared accusingly at the grandfather.

As soon as the boy and the grandfather passed the village, the grandfather got off the mare and insisted the boy to ride on it.

They came upon another village.

Once again, people were upset. They saw an elderly man carrying a huge trunk on his bony shoulder.

“Elderly abuse!” a passersby exclaimed loudly, attracting more villagers’ attention.

Finally leaving the second village behind, the boy quickly asked his grandfather to join him on the horse.

They arrived at the third village. More

Story about Vampire in the Basement

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Hello everyone,

I was cleaning my house today when I found an old yearbook I hadn’t seen for a long time. It brought back some great memories. Among them was one about the vampire in school basement.

Do you believe in vampires?

I did. And so did the other kids in my third grade class.

It all started with a rumor about a centuries-old vampire moving into our school basement and a missing third-grade girl as a result. No one knew where she was and what happened to her.

Although the school basement was off-limits to students, some brave souls from another class announced that they were going to launch an investigation after school.

On the next day during recess, I remember all third graders gathered nervously at the playground, listening to those kids’ chilling account of what happened the day before. They told us how dark and damp the basement was once they descended the stairs. What’s even scarier was, as soon as the vampire spotted them, its eyes began to emit an eerie green glow.

Although those kids made a narrow escape, they were convinced that the entire school was in great danger.

“Think about it,” said one of those kids. “The vampire has to come out of the basement. It needs to be fed.”

“Right,” said another kid. “He’s gonna come after us real soon because he saw us and knew where we are!”

There was a hush of silence as we processed the information and pondered our own safety. More

Story about Flip-Flops

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Hello everyone,

It is getting colder these days and it amazes me to see people still walking around with flip-flops in weather like this.

Speaking of flip-flops, I suddenly remember a guy who used to wear flip-flops to class every day. I remember this because I was sitting a few seats from him.

Have you ever sit in a large auditorium with rows of descending seats?

Well, with seats like that, you know you can pretty much see what is in front of you.

One day, I overheard the flip-flops guy talking to a group of his friends. He told them about his love interest in this girl who sat in front of him.

“Watch me,” he bragged. “She’s going to go out with me.”

Very soon the girl showed up and sat down in her usual seat.

I had no idea what the guy was thinking. Because the next thing I knew, he kicked off one of his flip-flops and literally “combed” his unmanicured and hairy toes through the strands of that girl’s hair. More

Story about Understanding

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Hello everyone,

I was out shopping the other day when I saw a little boy near the toy aisle of store. He was pushing a small package toward his mother.

“Mommy, can we buy this? Please?”

His mother, a woman in thirtyish, began to push her shopping cart away. “Honey, we can’t. It costs three dollars and ninety-nine cents!”

“Is three dollars and ninety-nine cents a lot?” the boy asked softly.

“Yes.”

“Do I have to work hard to get three dollars and ninety-nine cents?”

His mother sighed. “Yes, honey.”

“How hard?”

At this point, I couldn’t help but peeking at the little brown-haired boy. He was frowning and hugging the package tightly to his chest, his eyes downcast. More

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