Friends
Ode to the Glorious Freedom Fliers
They were brothers – that much was obvious as no strangers could share such red colouring. George, Bert, and Peter where only separated by a year and the best of friends. Their father was brutally killed just after the youngest had been born but it was well known that their mother had kept his memory alive. The rotund invaders were a disease that had infected them personally. They grew up hating the portly king with his upturned nose.
Travelling home from the market one day, two soldiers noticed the widow, quickly and quietly passing by, trying to remain unnoticed. She failed. She was known to them. What began as a simple demonstration of their sick power to control ended up in her murder.
The brothers were devastated. The conversation began after her funeral.
“How can this have happened?” cried Bert.
“Why weren’t we there with her?” lamented George, who always took his responsibility as the oldest so seriously.
“Why did that sick bastard ever come here?” Peter added.
They sat down at the kitchen table and clinked their glasses to their dear mother. A few more rounds went by and the irrationality of the drink began to kick in.
“It’s not right to live this way!” George strongly insisted.
“I don’t want us to live in fear!” demanded Peter.
“But what could we possibly do?” Bert said with defeat.
“We could end it…” and with that George set them along the path to their glory.
At first it was just the three of them but it quickly became clear that they would need help. Carefully, cautiously, they approached their closest friends – Alexander Canary, Marcus Raven and the twins, Shawn and Sheila Bluebird. They began training, egging each other on but supporting each other and building one another up. But for all their practice, it was clear that an advantage would be required. They were at a loss. What could they create to give them a victory over evil?
One night the eldest brother burst in on a training session.
“I have it! I know what we can do!” he exclaimed. He gestured to them to come closer and started pointing to a sketch. They nodded at his brilliance and a careful plot was hatched.
“Well, are we ready?”
“As ready as we will ever be”
“Is the weapon ready?”
“Yes, and at dawn we will raise it and begin our fight.”
Dawn. The golden sun lit the clear sky. With the weapon in position outside the king’s house, the fighters formed a circle around it.
“Together, we can do this!” Peter cheered.
“No, we will do this!!” George replied.
They lined up behind the weapon with the king’s palace before them. The fortress of stone, wood and ice loomed but they knew this was their destiny.
The first of them climbed up the weapon and prepared himself. Pulling back and taking careful aim, he shot himself towards their enemy. The explosion took out a corner of the king’s palace. One by one, they followed him, their bodies inflicting damage, until the king could be seen among the ruins, his soldiers lying dead around him. He had lost an eye and was already bruised and battered. The last of them, Alex, dressed in the finery of his family name and glowing as brightly golden as the morning sun, climbed into the weapon. He sent up a prayer above and launched himself. Approaching his victim, he felt a strange sensation along with body, almost like a tap, and with that, a burst of speed. He flew towards his target, exploding him into a thousand pieces.
With the king’s demise, the people were free. Life returned to what it once was and the people let their fear fall away. We never forget our Freedom Fliers and how they gave themselves for us.
Little did we know that in the lands of king’s relatives, plots of sweet revenge would continue to plague us. New heroes would have to step up to replay the battle for freedom over and over, across many different terrains if our new life were to continue. Fortunately we had the Tap of God on our side.
#ndb
Me to Pieter: How old are you?
Pieter: Twenty-three
Me to Sean: How old are you?
Sean: Twenty-seven
Pieter to me: How old are you?
Me: Thirty
Pieter (rather quickly and avoiding eye contact): No big deal.
>: (
Break Ups : (
My best friend told me that it sounded like I was in mourning and he was right.
But see the thing is that life with you doesn’t really exist anymore. Things have changed so much and there are faces missing. What we had won’t ever happen again but that only makes it all the more special. It is to me. I’ve never felt like that before. The friendship and camaraderie between us, coupled with the respect and confidence in what we could achieve together, have changed my perceptions of myself, of my world. I’ve been inspired and I can see opportunities everywhere I look. Challenges that I would have backed away from I now know can be conquered. I’m infected with your passion for ideas and the drive to pursue them.
So for that I thank you. I won’t ever be the same. I will be better.
P.S. There’s still some Malibu in the fridge that needs drinking.
P.P.S. That MacBook really needs more ram if you give it to someone else.
Courtesy of Grace
A first grade girl handed in the drawing below for a homework assignment.
After it was graded and the child brought it home, she returned to school the next day with the following note:
Dear Ms. Davis,
I want to be very clear on my child’s illustration. It is NOT of me on a dance pole on a stage in a strip joint. I work at Home Depot and had commented to my daughter how much money we made in the recent snowstorm. This photo is of me selling a shovel.
Mrs. Harrington
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