"Finish Me" Stories by Various Authors (good short books .TXT) đ
- Author: Various Authors
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So, you can imagine that Deddy thought his parents were a little crazy, setting out food at dinner for a sister that, as far as Deddy could tell, didn't exist.
Then one day, he realized his parents weren't so crazy after all...
Link: www.stuartstories.com | Activities - Imaginary Sister
The Would-Be Bird Dog
Itâs hard to blame the poor thing. After all, Rolluf was a dog and dogs can easily become confused by things people say.
Hereâs the first confusing thing he heard: âOh, Rolluf, there? Heâs a sheep dog not a bird dog.â
This was said by Rollufâs master, Ed. And itâs true that Rolluf was a sheep dog. About as true as it can get, since Rollufâs job was to guard the townâs sheep on the hill.
Rolluf was a good sheep dog. It was his job to make sure the sheep stayed on top of the hill and didnât wander down the hill and into the street where they might get hit by a car. Or into the town where they might cause some trouble. So far, not one sheep had gotten way.
But back to the âbird dogâ comment.
When his master sad that Rolluf was not a bird dog, Rolluf got confused. While we know that a bird dog is another name for a hunting dog, Rolluf thought that a bird dog was a dog that could fly. As I said, itâs hard to blame poor Rolluf.
While Rolluf did have some dog friends, they, too, were sheep dogs, so he didnât know that bird dogs were just regular dogs. He really thought that bird dogs had wings or some other way of flying.
So Rolluf ran around the sheep on the hill day after day wondering what it would be like to fly like a bird dog. When he circled the sheep he pretended they were clouds and that he was soaring around in the sky.
If you were Rolluf, you might play this game as well.
âą âą
A few days later, when Rolluf was getting his hair shampooed and cut, the groomer said the second confusing thing. He said: âYou can have him in just a minute, Ed. I have to comb out his feathers first. Wonât take but a sec.â
Now you might know that some people call the long hairs on the back of a dogâs legs âfeathers.â Or you might not. But either way, when the groomer spoke about Rollufâs feathers, he was talking about these long hairs. But Rolluf, of course, thought he was talking about real feathers.
Rolluf thought he was finally turning into a bird dog. Imagine how happy you would be if you believed, really believed, that you were growing wings and would soon be able to fly.
The next day, Rolluf decided he would try to fly. He ran across the top of the hill and when he got to the edge he jumped. It was a gently-sloped hill so he would not fall far if he didnât succeed.
And of course he didnât fly. But he did believe that he went further than just a normal jump. Rolluf really believed he flew â even if just for a little bit.
Day after day, Rolluf jumped and jumped, trying and trying to teach himself how to fly.
His dog friends thought he was crazy, jumping around all day, but Rolluf said, âJust you wait. One day I will become a bird dog and fly away.â The other dogs just laughed.
Ed, Rollufâs master, did not think that Rolluf was crazy. He simply thought Rolluf was jumping at bees or wasps or something. So long as no sheep got away, Rollufâs master didnât much care what else Rolluf might do.
âą âą
The next afternoon â just a few minutes before dark â Ed (Rollufâs master) slowly trudged up the hill and when he got to the top âŠ
Link: www.stuartstories.com | Activities - The Would-Be Bird Dog
So You Want To Be A Superhero?
My story is different from what you might have read in the comics, but itâs real.
I was walking home from school one day (I live in the city, but the walk is only a couple blocks) when I see an old lady surrounded by two big men and some sort of overly-large dog. Maybe a wolf. Now, I am not stupid enough to get involved.
I am just a kid, but I figured I had to do something. The old lady did not look afraid. She was darting her eyes around as if she were looking for a way to escape. But I didnât see a way, since she was backed into a corner of a building under construction. Yet another CVS.
She and I made eye contact and she waved her head at me, as if to say âYou will only make it harder for me.â But this couldnât be true. I had to do something.
âLook down. In the crack between the sidewalk and the grass.â
It was a voice in my head. Odd, you may think, but to be honest, I didnât even think about it. I just looked down and saw a silver necklace with a large marble pendant.
âDonât look at the marble.â
But I already had. It was black, but began swirling with yellows and pinks and seemed to grow larger and dizzier and I started to feel nauseousâŠ
âLook away!â
I did. Happy to do so. I felt better instantly.
âBall the necklace up in your hands and throw it to Glor-, hemm, the old woman. Make it a good throw. This is our one chance.â
I was scared. I was not a good thrower. It was too far away. I looked to see if Lee or Jordan were around. They were good at baseball and maybe they could help.
âYou can do it.â
I could do it. I could make the perfect throw. And, just like in the movies or in comic books, I swung that necklace around three times and I sent that necklace careening through the air, across the street and right into her hands. She caught it in her fist. She winked.
âNice throw. Now run and do not look back!â
I started to run, but, of course, looked back. Instead of an old lady, there was some sort of yellow and pink tornado of fabric. I only caught a glimpse before everything went dark and I realized I was falling.
I landed on the sidewalk, skinning my knees pretty badly, but more worried about why I was suddenly blind. Really, everything was black. And I hadnât even hit my head.
By the time I got back to my feet, my eyesight had returned and the old lady, two men and the wolf were gone.
I realize now that the voice in my head gave me the confidence to make the perfect throw as well as blinded me briefly so I couldnât see the lady turn into a super hero.
At the time, though, the voice seemed about as normal as when you are talking to yourself in your head. And the throw, well, the voice did give me the confidence to do it, but the throw was all mine.
To make a long story short (too late, I know, ha ha), I heard the voice in my head again the following Saturday morning. Very early. Just after the sun had come up and many hours before I normally even wake up on Saturdays.
âGo back to the spot where you found the necklace and you will find a note. It is your reward. You did well.â
âWhat is it?â I asked, ummm, myself. But the voice in my head was gone.
So I dressed quickly, didnât waste any time brushing my teeth or washing my face, and ran to where I found the necklace. There was a small piece of paper balled up and stuck in the crack. It was light yellow, an odd color.
I opened it and inside was a hand-drawn circle (about as big as my hand) and the words: reach into the circle and take out your reward.
I stuck my hand into the circle (it was like reaching into Jello) and pulled out a larger piece of paper that looked like one of those certificates you get when you write the winning story in the school contest or are awarded for having perfect attendance at the end of the school year.
I cannot remember what the scroll said, since I do not have it any more, but it pretty much congratulated me for serving the greater good and said that the PSL (I still do not know what that stands for!) wanted me to join.
To join, it said I needed to do two things:
Decide what I wanted to be my super ability Come up with a name, for starters anyway.
Again, it wasnât in these words. The words it used were all fancy and teacher-like, but I could understand them well enough.
There were some details on the bottom and some math equations, which I found sort of odd, but one of the notes read: The smarter you are naturally, the less power you will receive.
I read a lot of comics, so this made me laugh. It made sense. In fact, Ash and I had a joke about superheroes. With great power comes great stupidity. It sort of evens things out a bit. So it was very funny that this was, in fact, a rule.
Finally, the letter said I had a week to decide if I wanted the power at all and what the power would be and that I could ask no one for advice. If I did, the deal was off. Not in those words, of course.
I stuffed the scroll into my front pocket and ran home to my room. When I got home the scroll was gone. I didnât bother to look for it, since I knew it hadnât fallen out of my pocket. It had disappeared. Nothing falls out of front pockets.
You can guess what I did nextâŠ
Link: www.stuartstories.com | Activities - So You Want To Be A Superhero?
Ona And The Butterfly Prison
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