Robin Devereaux

Sam Becker

Jenelle Dulack

Sean King

Jason Lewin

Rietje Becker

Nathan Bilancio

Ben Syverson

Kara S

KW Taylor

Sunny Anomaly

Madeline Sammut

Hannah Call

Avery B

Dawn Rasmussen

You think you know me. But I’ve fooled you with my ordinary clothing and passive manner. I want you to think I’m weak, submissive. I want to gain your trust. If you only knew

What’s it like to live over 1,000 years? What’s it like to watch all of your earthly attachments fade? Ask me sometime. It’s not all bad.

Sit down, let me buy you a coffee. I think you should hear what I have to say. Experiencing a millennium away from home was been an interesting experience to say the least, but I’ve decided that today is the day I quit. I don’t want to be eternal anymore.

A lot can change in 1000 years. When I last saw my hometown, people got around in vehicles powered by small explosions, spent 5 days a week working for someone else. I can’t wait to see what’s there now.

History does not always progress in straight lines. Those small explosions pollute the air we breathe when they’re crowded in one place. They thought building bigger roads was a solution but more vehicles came to occupy them and with them more small explosions.

The explosions became a daily event, and soon after, an hourly event. The noise and pollution were jarring, but worse was the smell. Pungent and often described as ‘farty’ they inspired a slew of new inventions: smell-free headwear, fog-free glasses, ventilated filtered helmets.

But the smell was too much to handle, no matter how many inventions they came up with. The daily rutine was running to the abandon store, get some cans of beans, of sausages and canned bread...and run back as fast as possible not to smell the smelly smell.

They tried face masks. They tried wrapping seaweed around their nostrils (ancient trick their grandparents taught them.) They even tried oxygen tanks! Nothing worked! But at least they still had a reliable stockpile of canned bread. This made the smell bearable.

One day, after huffing an immoderate amount of canned bread, they ventured outside. A northerly breeze carried something new—a lack of the stench. They became drawn in the direction of the undocked air, when they heard a voice. “I am Darren, keeper of the northlands.”

They whirled around in panic, lashing out their fists, until they accidentally hit each other and crashed to the ground. "Idiots," the voice said. "That's the south you're facing. I said I'm the keeper of the NORTHlands. Not that you can see me. Once again, I'm Darren. Choose:

you may continue to the south and face either certain death or unspeakable fortune, or you may turn to the north, where you will always be in poverty but never want for happiness. Choose. You have ten minutes.” Darren was silent, then, and the others blinked hard and looked at

him expectantly. It was a hard choice. Money couldn’t buy happiness, but happiness wouldn’t pay the bills. But would the shackles of poverty even matter if he had endless happiness? He took a breath before straightening himself and giving his answer.

“I choose money.” He has to put his family first. He knew he may never truly smile again. But he didn’t care, he knew he couldn’t put himself before the ones he loved. Choosing happiness over money would have done that. Then one day

the money ran out. Stocks dropped, seasons changed, and suddenly everything his hopes rested on toppled, along with his family’s security and happiness. He couldn’t help but feel that perhaps happiness and money were both means to a cruel end. He then decided that

life was meaningless. If happiness meant nothing good, and money couldn't buy a good life, then what else was there to strive for? Survival, despite the odds? Maybe he should join WallStreetBets.

Knowing the history of WSB and their nefarious practices, it was a death sentence to even consider that, but they say everyone has a price and maybe..... I've found mine.

I swallowed hard, ignoring the tight ball of nerves in my stomach, and tried to focus on the potential benefits my family could reap from my unholy alliance. I bid adieu to any hope of my own salvation, and... signed the contract.

Lessons Learned

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Zoe Becker

Casey Lynn

Lynn was working out in her garage when the phone rang. She ran inside the house, sweaty and angry, stepped over two of her kids and clumsily picked up the receiver. “What is it?” she barked.

The caller seemed caught by surprise. “Angie B-b-owers?” he said, “of 11 Maple Ave? Congratulations! You are winner of the Pick-n-shop Happy Homes contest.” Angie was skeptical at first, but then remembered the moment she entered the contest. Finally an answer to her prayers!

A chance to compete in Pick-n-shop Happy Homes game show! It’s a lot like that old game show where you race around a supermarket frantically filling up your cart; except with a giant shopping cart and your filling it with furniture and home appliances

I’d been a huge game show nut since my days of sitting on peepaw’s lap watching Family Feud. The fond memories were what motivated me to win, and win big. I grabbed my cart and prepared to run.

Over the squeak of the stuck back wheel my mind raced at the idea of what a sweep would mean to me. How to measure glory beyond the pounds of frozen peas I would haul home? Besides peepaw, only one person knew the truth.

That truth was: I detest peas. Ugh. Horrid little things. They look like a fruit, taste like a vegetable. Are they more like beans or broccoli? Yucko! Fresh, frozen, or canned, they could all disappear forever, as far as I was concerned. Just then, inspiration struck! I would

Frozen Pea Paw

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A product of an affluent kevlar manufacturing family from Mexico City, Eduardo completed his annual six months of studying Buhdism in Nepal. He changed his flight home from Kathmandu to New York to catch the Pittsburgh Steelers playing in the AFC Championship.

Eduardo spent much of the flight decompressing in silence. Returning West was such a jarring experience. Oddly enough what provided the most calm was thinking about the vast amount of money he had riding on the AFC championship. He couldn’t lose. This time he had protection.

Did he feel a little guilty about that? Yeah, maybe, but not guilty enough to change his mind. Hey, hadn’t he had some hard knocks? He deserved this! So what if it was a little... well, sketchy. Wasn’t everyone just a little dishonest? He just hoped Mandy didn’t find out because

Mandy would kick him out of the house for stepping on others to get ahead. That was bad, she always said. Doing things the shady way is just what runs in my blood, my dad, my grandpa. Mandy was raised different, she would never understand that this just what I had to do.

Well, I don’t need Mandy’s permission: this sport runs in my veins. I strapped on my helmet and adjusted my jumpsuit, then ran safety checks on my Honda Hopotron with full Frogmatic Jumpjammies. Today is a good day to hop!

“Sorry Mandy” I mumbled, turned the key, and grunted with satisfaction at the smooth blub-blub of the engine. When the start of the game was announced I kicked things into high gear and leapt higher than I ever had. The crowd went wild! This was my destiny.

Jason Lewin
@jasonlewin

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Jason's Stories

Jason Lewin@jasonlewin

AwardsEarned

MemberSince

Awards

Jason's Stories

Jason Lewin
@jasonlewin

Awards
Earned

Member
Since