There was something in the tree. It was difficult to tell from the ground, but Rachael could see movement. She squinted her eyes and peered in the direction of the movement, trying to decipher exactly what she had spied. The more she peered, however, the more she thought it might be a figment of her imagination. Nothing seemed to move until the moment she began to take her eyes off the tree. Then in the corner of her eye, she would see the movement again and begin the process of staring again.
I’m going to hire professional help tomorrow. I can’t handle this anymore. She fell over the coffee table and now there is blood in her catheter. This is much more than I ever signed up to do.
She asked the question even though she didn’t really want to hear the answer. It was a no-win situation since she already knew. If he told the truth, she’d get confirmation of her worst fears. If he lied, she’d know that he wasn’t who she thought he was which would be almost as bad. Yet she asked the question anyway and waited for his answer.
Since they are still preserved in the rocks for us to see, they must have been formed quite recently, that is, geologically speaking. What can explain these striations and their common orientation? Did you ever hear about the Great Ice Age or the Pleistocene Epoch? Less than one million years ago, in fact, some 12,000 years ago, an ice sheet many thousands of feet thick rode over Burke Mountain in a southeastward direction. The many boulders frozen to the underside of the ice sheet tended to scratch the rocks over which they rode. The scratches or striations seen in the park rocks were caused by these attached boulders. The ice sheet also plucked and rounded Burke Mountain into the shape it possesses today.
There was little doubt that the bridge was unsafe. All one had to do was look at it to know that with certainty. Yet Bob didn’t see another option. He may have been able to work one out if he had a bit of time to think things through, but time was something he didn’t have. A choice needed to be made, and it needed to be made quickly.
It was going to rain. The weather forecast didn’t say that, but the steel plate in his hip did. He had learned over the years to trust his hip over the weatherman. It was going to rain, so he better get outside and prepare.
There wasn’t a bird in the sky, but that was not what caught her attention. It was the clouds. The deep green that isn’t the color of clouds, but came with these. She knew what was coming and she hoped she was prepared.
He sat across from her trying to imagine it was the first time. It wasn’t. Had it been a hundred? It quite possibly could have been. Two hundred? Probably not. His mind wandered until he caught himself and again tried to imagine it was the first time.
It went through such rapid contortions that the little bear was forced to change his hold on it so many times he became confused in the darkness, and could not, for the life of him, tell whether he held the sheep right side up, or upside down. But that point was decided for him a moment later by the animal itself, who, with a sudden twist, jabbed its horns so hard into his lowest ribs that he gave a grunt of anger and disgust.
She was in a hurry. Not the standard hurry when you’re in a rush to get someplace, but a frantic hurry. The type of hurry where a few seconds could mean life or death. She raced down the road ignoring speed limits and weaving between cars. She was only a few minutes away when traffic came to a dead standstill on the road ahead.