Its NOT FRIDAY!

I know, I missed Friday! I didn't post anything! I have broken my record! But as fast as the days are flying, it will be Friday again before I know it. So, I think I'll wait until then to post a new story. Until then.

The Race Won By Inches

I know it is not Friday, but I'm not sure what I will be doing in the morning, so I thought I'd just go ahead and post this tonight. I guess that means that any of you who get on the computer late at night instead of early in the morning will get a chance to read it first.:) This was also a "writing assignment." But don't worry, it is not about elephants.:) Enjoy!

The Race Won By Inches
by Rebekah Morris

One beautifully sunny morning, Cecil Centipede stopped to laugh at Inez Inch Worm slowly inching himself along the ground.
“Ha, ha!” he jeered. “You are so slow! You can’t even make it across the sidewalk before I have crossed it ten times! You are the pokiest, loiteringest, slowest insect I have ever seen!” He continued to taunt as Inez humped along.
Now Inez was growing irritated because Cecil Centipede kept bugging him day after day about his speed. That morning was the last Inez Inch Worm could tolerate.
“Would you like to race?” he questioned, pausing half way across the sidewalk.
“Race!” Cecil howled with laughter. “You’re not just slow, you’re stupid too. Ha, ha! Sure I’ll race. I’ll be at the finish line before you have even started! Ho, ho!” Cecil acceped the race as a joke because he thought it would be no contest.
Well, the race was planned. Spencer Spider and Anthony Ant were finally chosen to act as the judges, and the race course was carefully chosen. The day of the race was perfect, not too hot or too cold.
“Racers, take your places!” Anthony Ant bellowed. “On your mark, get set, GO!”
The race had begun! Right from the start Cecil Centipede took the lead; his hundred legs working so fast that the onlookers could scarcely see them. Inez Inch Worm was soon left in the dust, slowly but steadily humping his way along the track.
Cecil was gloating to himself as he ran of how easy this race was when all of a sudden one of his legs became tangled with another, and before he could stop, he fell. There he lay, his hundred legs all hopelessly tangled in one great big knot! How he squirmed. How he wriggled. But the more frantically he tried to free them, the more impossibly tangled they became. He comforted himself, however, with the thought that Inez was so far behind that he would never catch up.
Inching down the track, Inez spied the tangled legs of Cecil off to one side. He decided not to say anything, but continued on his way one inch at a time. Before long the finish line was reached and cheers erupted on all sides.
“Inez Inch Worm wins the race!” shouted Spencer Spider. “Three cheers for the winner!”
The exuberant cheers reached the ears of Cecil Centipede just as he finally succeeded in freeing the last of his legs. He leaped to his feet and raced to the finish line.
“I demand a re-race!” he shouted indignantly, but no one heard him.
Thus it was that inch by inch Inez the Inch Worm won the now famous and much talked of race.

The End

Part 2 of no title

Here it is, Meleah. Just for you. I tried to answer your questions. For those of you who haven't read the first part of this story, or can't remember it, it was the very first story I posted back in January. Sorry, I have no idea how to link back to that, so I guess you'll just have to go to January and find the story with no title. If anyone comes up with a title for this, I'd love to hear it! It is a little awkward to say, "That story I first posted, you know, the one about those guys and they were in a hurry to get somewhere..." So I assume you are ready for the story. Here it is.

Part 2

The cabin had only one room, lighted on one side by a glowing fire and a few candles. The other side was shrouded in darkness and a rough bed was to be seen in the corner, a still form lying under the bed clothes.
The wind was heard whistling outside around the cabin, and Sally shivered a moment in Ty’s arms.
“I thought you’d never come,” she whispered. “Oh Ty, its been so very long.”
Ty released himself gently from the girl’s hands and returned the gun to its holster before saying anything, and then his tones were low,
“I didn’t intend for it to be this way. How’s Pa?” He glanced over at the bed as he spoke.
“Very weak.”
Ty moved slowly over to the bed and gazed in silence at the thin, rough face of the man who was his father. It had been two years. Two long years since he had left that cabin and joined Carson in a adventurous trek farther west into the Nevada territory. Little did he dream at that time how long it would be before he saw either his father or sister.
The man stirred and called feebly, “Sally.”
“Yes, Pa,” the girl answered quickly, “I’m here. And Pa, Ty is home.”
Slowly the sick, old man opened his eyes. His gaze wandered around the room, coming at last to rest on the rugged, bearded face of his son. “Ty, that you?”
“Yes Sir. I’ve come home.”
“Sally told me you’d come, an’ I didn’t doubt it. . . The Good Lord has been right kind. . . to me an’ I. . . prayed you’d make it home in time. . . to hear. . .” the older man’s feeble voice faded, and his eyes closed once more as he fell asleep, worn out after only a few words.
“That’s how he’s been for days now,” whispered Sally. “He hasn’t the strength to talk for more ‘n a few sentences ‘fore he goes to sleep once more.”
The brother and sister moved softly away from the bed. The girl ,struggling to keep the tears from her eyes, stirred the pot over the fire and then sank drearily onto an old log hewn bench.
Ty, taking off his coat and hat, hung them on a peg near the door. His movements were quiet yet an alertness not seen in his earlier riding, was visible. His keen gaze swept the cabin from one rough log side to the other taking in each small detail. His quick ear was the first to catch the sound of his companion’s footsteps in the snow before they reached the cabin. With the opening of the door, a blast of frigid, snow laden wind entered nearly blewing Carson into the room and snuffing the candles’ flickering flames. Ty hurriedly pushed the door shut, slipping the latch over it to secure it from the wind.
“Tain’t much feed fer the horses, but I reckon the storm ain’t gonna last too long.” Carson spoke with a softer voice than usual for he too had noticed the bed with it’s quiet occupant.
Sally filled a small tin cup with broth before motioning the two travelers to eat. This they obeyed at once, for such a long hard ride had stirred up quite an appetite in them.
Nothing was said in that dim cabin. The whistling of the wind round the chimney sounded as though it would gladly tear the old cabin down to get at those within its walls. Anyone who had not been used to the roaring and sighing would have been quite fearful. As it was, no one so much as noticed it save for an occasional glance now or then at some particular strong gust.
“Sally,” the sick man’s voice sounded from the bed.
Ty arose, followed his sister to the bed, and lifted with gentle hand the gray head of the father as Sally spooned some warm broth into his mouth.
“Ty, get the . . . pouch . . . hangin’ by my gun,” the voice was low but insistent.
Ty strode across the room to the door over which the rifle was hanging and lifted the old leather pouch. Placing it in his father’s hand he waited in silence.
“Get the Good Book, Child,” and Sally stumbled to a shelf and brought back the Family Bible, playing it gently on the bed at her father’s side.
It was several minutes before the old man spoke again.
“All these years . . . find her. You must!” In his excitement the father raised himself up and grasped Ty’s hand with a vise like grip. “Ty, promise me you’ll find her! Promise... promise...”
“I promise.” Ty assured quickly, trying to ease the old man back onto the pillow. “I’ll find her.”
The hold relaxed and the tired eyes closed. The face was white, and the breaths came in gasps from colorless lips for a few minutes then steadied into the slow breathing of the sleeping.
The young man turned at last with set face. “Who am I to look for?”
Sally shook her head. “I don’t know,” she choked over a sob. “I sometimes think his mind ain’t right. He’s never told me ‘bout any person needin’ found. In fact he never talked of anyone ‘cept you since he took sick.”
The night wore on. The storm raged with unabated fury through the woods and around the little cabin. Inside all was still. Carson slept, rolled in a blanket on one side of the darkened room. Sally sat on her little bench near the fire. Sat and thought, cried a little when she thought of her father and slept, then awakened and thanked God that Ty was home. As for that young man, he didn’t sleep. He spent most of the time sitting beside his father’s bed in silence. It was good to be back home again.


Oh, yes, I nearly forgot. Since April of 1994 I have read a total of 770 new books. Anna, you were certainly the closest.:)

Mr. Pickup's Problem

Friday is here again already. I don't know where the days go, but I seem to have misplaced a few. Has anyone seen any stray days hanging around? I was able to get something a little more interesting than a paragraph about elephants ready this time.:) This is a short children's story I wrote. I am looking for someone to draw some pictures for it. If anyone is interested, I'd love to see what you come up with. Perhaps someday I will publish it. Right now it will just sit in my notebook and in a file on the computer. But, if you got on here, it wasn't to read my ramblings, was it? Okay here is the story. Enjoy!

Mr. Pickup’s Problem
by Rebekah Morris

Once upon a time, in a small town somewhere in the world, lived a man. His name was Mr. Pickup. Now Mr. Pickup owned a small store in the center of town where he sold many useful and some not so useful things.

One morning as Mr. Pickup walked to his store, he stopped to look at someone moving into the the shop next door. He paused for a few minutes to watch the men working.
“Hmm,” he said to himself, “they seem to have the same things that I sell.”

All during that day, Mr. Pickup wondered about the store next door.

The next morning as Mr. Pickup walked to his store, he stopped and his eyes opened wide as he looked at the shop next to his. It had a large sign over the door which read: “Best Buy.”
“Oh no,” Mr. Pickup thought, “what can I do?”

All that day he thought about that store beside his and wondered what to do.

The next morning as Mr. Pickup walked to his store, he stopped, his eyes opened wide, and he whistled as he looked at someone else moving into the shop on the other side of his store. On looking closely, he realized that they too had the same things he sold in his store.
“Oh no! What am I going to do now? Mr. Pickup thought.
All that day he thought about the new store and wondered what to do about the sign on the first store.

The next morning as Mr. Pickup walked to his store, he stopped, his eyes opened wide, he whistled and shook his head as he looked at the new store. The new store had an even larger sign over it’s door which read: “Lowest Prices.”

All that day Mr. Pickup sat alone in his store and wondered what he could do about the first store. And he wondered what he could do about the second store. And he wondered what he could do about their signs. He thought and thought.

He was still thinking as he walked home to his house. He thought as he ate his dinner. He thought as he got into bed and turned out the light.
Suddenly, a wonderful idea came to him, and he bounced out of bed. Not waiting to get dressed, he ran out to his garage and started working. He worked hard.

In the morning Mr. Pickup walked to his store. He was earlier than he had ever been. He didn’t stop, his eyes didn’t open wide, he didn’t whistle and he didn’t shake his head, but he got out his ladder and put up his own sign. In letters larger than the other signs were the words: “Main Entrance.”
All that day Mr. Pickup didn’t have time to wonder and think about the two other stores. He was very busy all day long. Mr. Pickup had solved his problem.

The End