sci-fi adventures to heartwarming dramas

 I know that it's a tough pill to swallow. You order something you want online, you make sure to select 'front door' delivery; you wait a couple days, and then you get the notification that the package has been delivered. But, when you get home, the box is nowhere to be found. What the heck?! What happened to my package? Did someone walk past and steal my package? Did the delivery person steal it? Photo by Claudio Schwarz on Unsplash One of the best things you can do is to take the time to assess your house's setup and consider getting something to help you receive the packages. The pandemic has shown us how easy online ordering is. We can get anything we want delivered to our houses. That's awesome. But, that also comes with  Responsibility. Your property is yours and your responsibility. Amazon, FedEx, DHL, and UPS deliver to your house. They don't have a special box dedicated to parcels like the USPS does.  No third party can deliver to this dedicated USPS m...

  Can I tell you a story of how I met Ted? He's my dog. He's the love of my life, and I learned a lot about my dad the day we got him. The night I first learned of Ted's abuse was when I knew we needed to do something.  -----_--------_------- I walked through the backdoor into the kitchen and noticed my dad, Jim, leaning in the doorway. He was staring at me.  "Where have you been all afternoon?" he growled. "Dad, I was with Havana," I said, looking at him. I didn't want to say where I had been. I knew he would be upset. "No." He said sternly. "You were with him!" He quickly stood up straight and pointed his finger at me. "You lied to me. You told me that you would be studying, and you lied."  I stood there waiting for him to continue. But he didn't; he just stared at me. I didn't know what to say.  I shrugged. I broke the tension by rolling my eyes. "I'm sorry. I've been watching him from my room. Th...

The words spill across the paper seamlessly, like they were meant to be there. The scratch of his pen floods the air, mixing with the scritch-scratch of his fellow students. - and though sadness has overtaken me, there are too few friends left to tell this to. I have waited for my love, and waited, and waited, only for him to turn me away. The pain that I feel, it cannot be compared to anything else in the world. It clings to me. Strong, just like love. But what do I truly know about love? All of my life, I have given my heart freely and yet never had my affections returned. No respect is given. No care. No understanding. Where am I in this life? Where am I supposed to be? Two questions that seem to have no answer. I’ve tried to make things better, but it has never worked. I long for it with every fiber of my being, And yet… I know it can never truly happen. Just as Sean writes down the last word, Mrs. Ortally stands up, clapping her hands together a few times. Her white hair bounc...

I'm in the Sears customer services department. I've been here for six years, and it's just not enough coffee for me to be able to get through all of these people coming in and demanding things. Most of them don't even know what they want but still think that we should guess it or something. The majority of them are rude and condescending when we ask questions about which product best suits their needs. I take a break from work, go outside, and see so many people on their phones scrolling away without a care in the world. They're glued to this screen thinking life is perfect because someone shared some event happening somewhere so they can feel like they're there with their friends experiencing everything first hand. 

I stared at my reflection in the mirror. A week since graduation, and still, it felt weird. An image of myself, almost frozen in time, because so much had changed, and yet there I still was. Same face, same pajama bottoms. It had felt, for so long, that the day would never come. That high school would keep its grip on me forever, but then one day I’d walked across a stage, and then just like that, it was over. And all I had to show for it was a rolled-up piece of paper. Reaching for my toothbrush, it hit me, suddenly, just how much had changed over the last few years. Sure, this was when kids developed the most of their personalities, and I knew that if I ran into my younger self it’d be like talking to a completely different person, but it was still odd to reflect over all of it. All the little things that had come and gone, and left their marks on my life in little chalk marks and pencil shavings. Last year, after five years of struggling against it, my mother had succumbed to her br...