Genre Fiction. Page - 449

A boy, lost in the real world, is returned to reality by an "ugly" young puppy. This is a must read by both young and old alike.

What would it feel like to know everything? Shall I tell you? It sucks. Knowing how the world was made, when it will end, and to know everyone in the world. Let me tell you, it gives a major headache. Every time a child is born, or someone dies, its like a wrecking ball just hit me. Its because I actually knew them, or know them. When someone dies, I feel like I lost a friend, because I know their lives, its like I’ve lived their life. When someone is born, it gives a major headache. It sucks even more when someone is born about every 5 seconds. So fitting in and going to school is out of the question. Wings don’t make it any better. Neither does people chasing you. For what reason, I sure do know. So, living on my own, no one else. At least I’m learning to block out everything, my record is four days without knowing anything about anyone else but me. But, that isn’t long enough for me, I want it to go away, and will keep looking for a way. Hu, funny. I know everything but that.

Lawyer frees an innocent man.

It was raining. But it usually rained. At least that’s what I had noticed. When I had first moved here from Texas it was fine, but now it rained every day. I had moved from the top of the world to the bottom, the middle of southern California. My name is Luke Taylor, or at least it was before the games, but where are my manners, you don’t even know what the games are. Every two years an alien species hosts a series of tests, they make the contestants fight physical and mental challenges. Of course for a 16 year old this would seem impossible. Let me take you back to where it all began.
It was night and I sat in his bed. Three years ago that night his dad had passed away from heart failure, on my birthday, I had only been eleven. But here I was sitting in my room on his birthday crying. Early that morning, I had gone into my father’s study and found an old journal that his father had written as a boy. I had read about how my dad had skipped school, how he had been the weird kid at school, because he didn’t care what everyone else thought. I thought about my friend Shawn and how he thought like that. It drove the teacher’s crazy, and most of the popular people, but his real friends thought he was amazing for being that way. Although sometimes it got him in a lot of trouble, like the time he told the principal he looked stupid in a school t-shirt, or the time the science teacher’s jacket caught on fire, he told her she looked hot. That was Shawn. I kept reading about my dad, and how he had once jumped off his house onto a trampoline. It sounded fun until, I found out the trampoline ripped when his dad had landed. That changed my mind very quickly. Then I read about how his dad had accidentally knocked a replica sword of the wall into a fish tank, at his friend’s house. It only impaled two fish. By then I couldn’t take it anymore, if I kept reading he might not be able to stop laughing. I got up and went to his back yard. I hopped the fence; it was only five feet tall, had a solid top, and was made of metal. Behind my house was a canyon; all around the canyon were pieces of a plane that had crashed forty-three years ago, twenty –nine years before I was born. I liked to explore the wreckage. I walked down a hill into the tail of the plane where the luggage usually was. I started looking around; I found a golf club, a brief case filled with socks, a broken rusted phone, and a little item that looked like a sports wrist watch. I pressed a button on it and the watch and it wrapped itself around his wrist. I pulled on it trying to get it off, but it wouldn’t budge. I started pressing buttons trying to get it to let go and I suddenly felt a sharp pain. The second button shot a signal flare up into the sky from the center of the watch, and that’s when everything went dark. When I woke up his head hurt like crazy. The watch was gone but instead I had a ring. It made me look like I was married. I scanned my surroundings, and found that I was strapped to an operation table that was in the middle of what looked like a jail cell. I wondered what had happened. Just then a man walked into the cell, he was tall, maybe 5/4, had white hair, pale white skin, and a long scruffy beard. He walked up to me and started to examine me.

Margaret Marshall Saunders CBE (May 13, 1861 – February 15, 1947) was a Canadian author.[1]