Scores of German children growing up in Berlin were fortunate enough to have a soft bettdecke (coverlet) filled with feathers for nighttime, and I was one of them. That blanket, and along with it my ridiculously soft federkissen (feathered pillow), were the only comforts I carried with me into the darkness.
“Los in die Hajabett mit dir. Schlaf gut, na Schatzi?”
But I wouldn’t sleep well. She couldn’t know the terrors I fell into almost every night. At four years old, I was unable to articulate the myriad ways in which I suffered when the lights went out. The turbidity…
What if, in the deepest trenches and valleys of the Northern Pacific Ocean, there dwelt a magnificent creature roaming the waters without courtship or companions?
What if such a creature were destined to live her entire lifespan with little chance of encountering others of her kind? And perhaps the more riveting question: what is it? Could she be a whale, a hybrid, or an altogether new type of aquatic mammal not yet documented in marine biology journals?
There is, indeed, such an animal. William Watkins of the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution in Massachusetts was the first to detect it in…
You unfurled as a flaxen-haired blossom in the heart of your people: the tiny town of Weißenstadt in Bavaria, Germany.
But you were not able to enjoy its charming simplicity, because by the time you could ride a tricycle it was 1944, and World War II was in full swing.
You were not able to enjoy your tricycle, because the strafing Germany endured blasted you off of your tricycle altogether.
Dazed, and with scraped knees, you reached for your cat Peter for comfort, but the explosions sent him running. …
At first, the couple seems mildly surprised. They’ve just surfaced after scuba-diving in what, to both veteran and new divers alike, would be considered the Holy Grail of diving spots: Australia’s Great Barrier Reef.
They scan their surroundings — an impossibly vast tapestry of blue-tinged waves — and quickly discover that the diving boat, along with its skipper and the other scuba divers, has apparently powered off without them. Disbelief quickly melts into indignation as the husband-and-wife duo realize they have a series of dreadful questions to consider. Why had the boat stranded them? Treading water would eventually become difficult…
“Won’t you please let me wake up? I — I don’t like this. I want to go home!”
Shivering in front of the looming visage before her, the young woman tries to draw her camisole across her chest. But this meager attempt at conserving heat does not work. It does not work because the young woman is actually dead.
“This isn’t a dream,” booms the horned figure in a surprisingly resonant voice. With a slow, languid fashion, he flips through the tattered pages of a glowing book on the podium in front of him as if he is bored.
It is carnal nature for the feline to be governed by instinct. While it’s unfortunate [and tear-jerking] to see a 600-pound big cat wrest a gazelle fawn away from its mother on the National Geographic channel, to a certain degree we understand the predator’s need for sustenance and accept it.
But could such animals ever be driven by something more?
In a San Francisco zoo in the United States, a group of friends decided they had nothing better to do other than taunt a stunning tiger from their relative safety across from the exhibit’s moat.
They would pay for this…
South Carolina may well be a tourist destination for our family in the future. [If our financial situation ever changes, one of the first things we want to do is go camping].
Living in semi-rural Ohio helps; the kids do get to check in with nature from time to time. We haven’t been able to hike or camp, though, and I humbly consider that an oversight as the children’s mother. Mike and I yearn to see the children picking their way through wooded trails, splashing at creek beds, and sharing creepy-pasta tales around a crackling fire at nighttime.
The prelude to the voices — the prelude to it, really — would’ve been on March the 7th of 2020.
I was giddy with anticipation about the relief my newly-implanted pain pump would afford me. No more Vicodin, the alleviation of bitter bone spur torture and perhaps a brighter spring in my step: all of these things I was looking forward to as a thirty-nine-year old wife and mother of four, who had the rest of her life to live and a rosy (if not a bit naive) outlook on my life and current affairs in general.
I’d had the…
“Where are we again?”
“Uh-huh. And how long did you say we were going to be here?”
Jase’s skin is marinating in the Florida heat. I’ve known him forever, so I can tell.
“As long as it takes,” comes his vague reply.
“As long as what takes?”
“Why can’t we just spend the evening together and enjoy ourselves?” Jase implores. His back is toward me, and his head is angled down, which is the way he sits when he’s pondering something. He’s got one oar balanced across his gangly knees, and I almost feel sorry for him. See…
The issue of Morgellon’s Syndrome has been a complicated one, with undertones of what at first were inexplicable biological phenomena. Paradoxically, it is also a condition that a few hold-outs insist may still not exist at all, but of course that depends on who you talk to.
So imagine, if you will, waking up one morning to find that you’ve been assailed with uncontrollable itching. The parts of your body affected are your lower back, belly, and the skin on your fore-arms. The itching sensation is so intense and insufferable that it makes chicken pox feel like a cucumber oil…