ColumbusGuy

To me, that yawning is a sure sign of the bond between a pet and its owner. That shows a level of trust and comfort where defences are down. Sure, sometimes it could be a sign of tiredness, but most animals can sense your mood and respond to it in kind. Frisky shows their excitement at some fun ahead, and skittishness shows uncertainty about the situation, but it takes a level of trust for relaxation to be the reaction. My best times with a pet were often the ones playing, but many more were when we'd just be together lazing around and just...being.

You know, this brought something back to me that I'd forgotten: neighbors riding their horses down to our house so my sisters could go riding with them. I was too little to want to get up so high, but I loved petting them and all of a sudden your description brought back the smell of those palominos as if I was standing there. Usually words bring an image from my past, but this time, the smell came, then the bristly feel of their hair, then the picture. Magic, my dear friend. Thank you. xoxoxoxoxo

I've set my dvr to record A Christmas Carol with Alistair Sin--the best version in my opinion---so that will be my humbug quota for the year. Now have to see if I can find the Charlie Brown Christmas show, which they don't show anymore...and Karloff narrating How The Grinch Stole Christmas--far superior to any movie. :) Oh, I stick with store-bought eggnog as I don't like the alcoholic versions. When I used to drink on occasion, it was mixed drinks like screwdrivers, or Maui and 7-Up. Even a hint of more traditional things like whiskey would make me barf all over the place....

Interesting how some things were similar while others differed. Our tree went up the weekend before Christmas, always one bought from a tree farm, and decorated the same day. Usually we had the old-style colored lights with large bulbs, and if one went out the whole string had to be tested, and you hooped you had the color bulb to match that one. Yep tinsel too, shiny and droopy but we put it on in small clumps and it got tossed every year as it was tangled no matter how careful we tried. Ornaments were colored glass in various shapes, some with indented sections with a scene painted in it to contrast with the main color, and others were one color or patterned. It took me years to find a couple boxes of late 50s ones to go on my tree. Our topper was a star, and we hung velour stockings on our fireplace too. I remember my first train set, a larger gauge with two plastic tunnels and a big loop of track with a black transformer to run it. I have a pic (black and white of course) of me playing with it while in my white undies the day I got it. The next year I think I got a slot-car racing set. Then the Hot Wheels hit and I got orange track and several cars. My friend down the street got some too, and we'd set it up in his living room and race for ages. Only thing that came close to those was my birthday present in '66 of a red Schwinn bike with chrome fenders and a chrome headlight! That pic is in my Gallery.

Nothing to add here, except that I wish children's wishes could be answered all year long, and that there weren't people always ready to destroy innocence with cold reality. What a wonderful place the world would be if we held onto our dreams throughout life. No 'bah, humbug' here...now where's that eggnog?

Nope, not liking this turn of events at all! Fix it, my friend as soon as possible so Woorawa doesn't come to harm. We can't have the bad guys win, and that's who Kieran's father and his councillors are. I have faith in you, so I know things will work out in the end. 'Dark Child' hmm, that could be a simple reference to his ancestry, or the fact that his people's powers rival those of the elves, and are therefor considered bad from their perspective. I'll take Burrimul's people over these stick-up-the-ass elves anyday. :)

It's always an adventure to share a ride with your characters, my dear friend. The road is filled with pot-holes and signs are often masked for the exits...but we arrive at your destination in the end, oft-times tired from the emotional route, but wiser for all that. The mention of 'paranormal' had me veering away from my first conclusion into wild fantasies of a Venus fly-trap like tree...then the revelation of the true path to resolution...and hope. Very satisfying, and much to think on all the ramifications as we expect from a master. 😸

I'm really happy that these two found one another at university. The final scene where Ken decided to let Dev have a go for the film was so sweet, seeing as he was making this a special moment for them despite the observers. The boys were also lucky that this was a reputable band of film-makers rather than the more common sleze merchants or criminal elements. At some point, another adventure with these guys wouldn't come amiss.

Well, I wish this whole issue with Don would be settled--Robbie has been told to talk to Mr. Andrews about a new counselor, so he knows he's not alone. No help will come from Sue who shares most of Don's revulsion, so it's not going to work depending on her. No one can help if Robbie doesn't ask and stop being a door mat for everyone else's games. I love the story a lot, but isn't it time to move things forward? As for who Robbie's father is--I've had an idea for ages, and it certainly isn't Don. His mom had taste and sense, so that rules the Prime Putz out of contention. I'd wager a lot of money on my candidate...if I had any.

I like it--a real surprise ending. There must be some system of insuring proper registration? Here you can't trust some districts to be honest because the two parties will do almost anything to win.

I have no idea where Victorian authors got them from, though I think slang terms from those times might have had some influence, as well as outright insults to those characters in others. Either way, it beats the earlier practice of using a title plus the first letter of a name followed by dashes to protect the writer from too close resemblances to famous people. My characters are combinations of either starting a name with the same initial(s) or choosing the opposite of a real name from memories. There are a few occasions where I drew them from family history--the Beckels were a family that married into mine about a century ago. :)

I love it so far, and like these two's quirky behavior and humor. As for counties, I think England's aren't called shires any more...since that dated back to Saxon times and was considered too archaic some years ago. I may be wrong, though since I still think of British money in terms of pounds, pence and shillings. California is just weird--I didn't know it had so few counties--Ohio is much smaller and has 88 of them with names from all over creation from early settlers and explorers to geographic ones that reflect native names like my home town has to this day. Columbus was a compromise capital chosen as central to the main routes through the state and was named for the obvious explorer, but a tiny town was already here called Franklinton. About the only claim to fame I'm happy about is that Charles Dickens traveled through Columbus and stayed at an inn called the Neil House that existed until the 1980s. He describes his journey through Ohio in his book American Notes that later was the basis for his novel Martin Chuzzlewit.

Okay, I'm breaking my cardinal rule about replying to every comment individually, and it's making me feel bad. The response is just way more than I expected, and feeling thoroughly indolent all day yesterday and most of today meant I got way behind. I went to dinner late Thursday with my friend Mike and ate far too much--twice what I normally do for two meals, and paid for it after by scarcely being able to move or sleep because I was full of ham and candied yams, beans, soup salad and pumpkin pie. I will NOT be that crazy for Christmas. I'll repeat again--I love all my readers old and new, and you give me the will to carry on despite it being harder than it used to be pre-surgery. Yes, there will be another chapter where I hope to answer some of @Geoffrey257many questions, and some of yours too. Will they all get resolved? What would life be like without a little mystery in it? So, here's what I'll answer:

Okay, okay...ya big bullies! I'll do it--I'll write another chapter...just don't hit me. I didn't think this would get such a big reaction...but I love all of you for the kind words and wanting me to tell you a bit more about the boys. I had more to add about Dave's family, but didn't put it in as I thought the story was getting too long for the contest it should have gone into at IOMFATS. I mean, this is approaching the length of my longer Jay chapters.... I'll try to reply to everybody, but right now I'm recovering from yesterday's indulgences by absorbing the food that has me feeling like a stuffed crocodile baking on the banks of the Nile after eating an unwary tourist. Eeww. Sorry.

The obituary said the car wrecked and the driver died...and Gram said it burned and Dave's wallet was in the glove box which made them think it was him. Dave of course, had no idea of any of this since he hiked up to the cabin from the parking lot, as Tor will tell him. Glad you liked it! My first try at something involving Native Tribal culture.

This story was written based on the picture Empty Shoes at the IOMFATS site My name’s Tor—you know, like the Viking god—most people think it’s spelled with an ‘h’ in it, but that’s mostly for English translations of the myths and sagas. At least that’s what my Grandpa used to say before he died, and I guess he’d know about stuff like that since he wrote papers for journals on those things in his spare time. Gram says he was famous, but that was forty years ago and we can’t take t

Who would have thought buying school clothes could turn into an adventure...

It says 'In Process', so I'm hoping you'll tell us what happens next--after we give our own opinions of course. I'd rather not have the items valued since that seems to disregard the original wishes of Amos' sibling, so I'd like to see them put the box back and try to find out more about Amos' family. My own town's Auditor's page has records by address or Name search, and my house goes back to when it was built in 1908 with the owners' names and the price paid for it. All this I can find online without having to ask at the government office...but other towns might need you to visit them and either pay for a search or go through copies of the records yourself. The Census might also be a good place to check. That's a free thing you can do at some state archives. I think it would be a nice touch if they added some of their own toys to the box before re-burying it, to show that they too want Amos to have fun. Come on, mate...when's the next bit coming?

Thank you Gary, for saying what needs to be said in every generation lest we forget. My family on my father's side has been here in Ohio since 1841, but I don't think his kids were old enough to fight in the Civil War. The only story I heard was of my Uncle Eddie who fought in the landing in Italy at Anzio, and came back whole, only to lose the fingers of his left hand in a piece of farming machinery. He never talked about the war, but I use his ammo case for documents and it's one tank crews used. My father was rejected because of an inner ear problem, but lived in Columbus and made armr plating for ships. My mom's mother worked at an airplane factory here, and her husband was later an engineer at North American Rockwell who built fighter planes and satellite parts. In the mid-60s my oldest sister (the artist) went through Marine boot camp and seved a hitch before remaining down South to marry and raise a family. When I began researching my genealogy, a distant cousin sent me notes on his branch, and said one of his uncles went back to Germany in WWII to fight for them. I doubt it was to support Hitler, but rather to help our original homeland. Don't know if he survived. I have nothing but respect for soldiers past and present who defend our countries from those who would do us harm. Today was originally meant for those who lost their lives in The Great War, or The War To End All Wars...sadly, it has grown to enshrine the spirits of those brave soldiers who must continue to stand against our enemies. Let us remember these heroes in our hearts and prayers throughout the year, as they stand for us every day.

For the first time ever, you've written something I can't rate...the pain you went through, the anguish and uncertainty from day to day...and finding the strength to get through that and become the wonderful father and man you are today--I just can't label how that makes me feel. You are the proof that the chain of abusive parenting can be broken--in spades, given enough heart. You wear armor of diamond and wield the club of compassion every day you show your kids what a true man is. Infinite love and hugs, my dear....

Catching up, my friend...but the concentration on Math is hard slogging for me and my allergies to numbers beyond geometry. :) Rooting for Rhys and Kieran, and that the father and his cronies get their due in the end....

Having spent my first twenty-nine years in the country, we got the brunt of storms in all seasons. The Blizzard of '77 left us without power for a couple days, but we had a fireplace and plenty of wood, and a gas stove. We had nearly a tornado a couple times, and saw one in the distance, but the closest we got was one morning before I went off to school I think in about 5th grade. My sister drove me out to the end of the drive to wait on the bus, and in the brief time she left the second garage door open, the huge winds tore the side wall out! My Dad had added that with three windows to fit a second car or tools, but when he rebuilt the wall he left out the windows as a weakness we didn't need. Scary times!

We can't help being in awe of Nature at her loudest...it's primal from our earliest days as intelligence dawned, and later we invented gods to help us understand. But even now, at the height of these fierce celestial battles, a chord is struck deep within us that can't be ignored. We are meant to be in tune with Nature and her works, not superior to them, as she so often proves when our hubris grows intolerable. We lost the thread of Being when we set ourselves at the pinnacle of Creation rather than as a sharer of wonders. I hope we will learn that lesson again one day. I loved this one, dear friend...and I love being in a storm myself, so long as I'm not soaking wet and cold. :)

This was an interesting way to start a new season, Carlos. So many responders with varying views on the same second question...and each having a different first one kept the tension going. 'Creamy bosom'...yuck! That image is now stuck in my head forever, and I didn't have even the slightest joy of reading/avoiding the source. :) Sadly, it appears in a lot of male gay fiction too...a standard trope, alas. In many ways I prefer the scene to supply images rather than graphic details of the 'main event'...some of these verge on the incredibly impossible--I mean, 'fountains'...really? Where's the talent needed for that? Lunch time...had thought of soup...but there's that 'cream' again....

Every place can stand a few more imported Pythons. 😜 I wonder if you don't mean...'brats'?