text:
The brightly clothed figures meandered swiftly and purposefully through the dusty Kenyan streets.  Their red, blue, pink and yellow neon dresses and scarves flapped behind them, tossing and turning in the cool wind.  They turned, without hesitation, into a dark alley.  Kenyo, the mysterious lady in blue, reached down purposefully and lifted up a manhole that was hidden in the dark night.  Kenyu, in pink, dropped gracefully into the manhole.  Kenyi and Kenye, in green and yellow, slipped in silently after her.  Kenyo dropped into the hole, closing it quietly behind her.  They were standing in a surprisingly well lit room, furnished barrenly, with jars lining the back and side walls and a large clock on the front wall.  The women moved quickly, following their nightly routine.  Kenyi and Kenye grabbed their jars, the good dreams, and glided back over to the manhole entrance whilst Kenyo and Kenyu grabbed the bad dream jars and did the same.  All four of them looked up, and at once their bodies began to change as they became significantly thinner and lighter.  They rocketed up out of the room, phasing straight through the solid manhole cover, and into the dark blue sky.  Up they went, the sky around them twinkling with the light of distant stars, and they were one with the night, moving and living as if they were made of the air itself.  When they reached a great altitude, high above where clouds would form on an overcast day, they pulled off their scarves.

“Ready?”  Said Kenyo, her sound of her silky voice efforlessly reaching the ears of the other three.

“Ready,” They replied in unison.

They took off their scarves in one swift motion, revealing the hidden length.  Nearing one hundred feet long, the lustrous scarves unraveled across the sky.  Each of the dream sisters emptied their jar directly onto the scarf, and the milky white substance was absorbed eagerly by the scarf, soaking it completely within a second.  The four looked each other and gave a nod before flying out in four opposite directions, spreading out evenly over the Kenyan urban landscape.  At once, they started swinging their magnificent, ambient scarves in a circle above their heads, gaining speed with every rotation.  When the scarves were flying so quickly they could scarcely be seen, each sister gave their scarf a quick shake.  With a loud snap only audible to them and other dream sisters around the world, the sky exploded with brilliance and color as the once white dreams lit up the night sky with colors of every variety.  The moment hung in the air, completely still, and then slowly the dreams began to fall.  Slowly and smoothly they drifted downward, and as they got closer to the ground, they began to seek out the dreamers.  They went into windows, into doors, into chimneys, entering the houses and minds of all.  As the last dream entered under the worn doorway of a small hut, the night went still.  All was silent, and all looked the way it had before.  The sisters drifted back down towards their room, the scarves reforming on their neck for the next night.  They reached the ground and entered their home, preparing to walk the streets throughout the next day, searching the minds of those who dwelt in the city for dreams to create.

“Agh!” shouted Nimye, a young Kenyan boy, bolting upright from a deep sleep.  “What a peculiar dream,”

title: I had a free night.  Wrote a little something. c:

question: Describe Kenyo.

answer: Kenyo is descrived as the mysterious lady in blue. She is one of the dream sisters, and carries the bad dreams with Kenyu.

question: What is the hidden length?

answer: The hidden length is that of the scarves. They near one hundred feet in length.

question: Does this story showcase any moral lessons?

answer: It does not appear to.

question: What is the nightly routine of Kenyo, Kenyi, Kenyu, and Kenye?

answer: The dream sisters remove their scarves, which are about 100 feet long, and dump their dream jars onto them. They spread the dream substance throughout the Kenyan urban landscape, and the dreams seek out the dreamers. The sisters go back home when all the dreams are settled.

question: What colors are mentioned in this story?

answer: Pink, red, blue, yellow, green, dark blue, white,

question: Write a ~4 sentence summary.

answer: A Kenyan boy, Nimye, dreams of the dream sisters Kenyo, Kenyi, Kenyu, and Kenye. Each night they remove their scarves in the sky and release good and bad dreams that spread across the Kenyan urban landscape. When the dreams are done seeking out the dreamers, the dream sisters go home. During the day, they search the minds of those who live in the city for dreams to create.


split: train

text:
Click, clack. Click, clack. The sounds of metal against metal reverberated through the entire ship as the captain walked towards the guard rail on the starboard side. Every other step the captains prosthetic leg stuck the ships metal surface and rang out. From just below the knee a metal contraption attached to his leg. Hinges and blots dotted the device and ever few steps a release valve opened and steam hissed out. The device was solid bronze and extremely heavy and as such, it required a lot of strength to take a single step, much less walk across the ship.

He continued his difficult trek until he reached the railing. Leaning against it he looked over to his right and saw one of his passengers staring out across the night sky. She stood there silent, not even noticing the captains presence, completely enthralled by the view in front of her.

“Its beautiful isn’t it?” the captain said, breaking the silence. The female passenger could only manage a nod and did so without breaking eye contact with the view.

The captain gave a small chuckle.

 “I used to be just like you, the first time I saw all of this” he motioned with his arm, swinging it about.

Hundreds of feet below them the giant city spread out in every direction, seemingly never ending. The snow capped mountains that sat in the center of the city shined as the sun just barely peaked over the tip of the highest peak. The setting sun cast enough light to see the city as it feel asleep. And just enough darkness to see the stars coming to life. Their light brightening the night sky.

“When I first saw it I knew that I would never be able to go back. And I haven’t, I have called this ship home ever since.” the captain said after a few moments of silence.

The female passenger pointed down to the ships running through the rivers that cut through the city. and spoke for the first time

“They don’t even know what they are missing.” she said almost in shock.

“And that is the way of things, you never really know what you are missing until you have held it in your hands and you wonder were has it been your entire life.” The captain sighed.

“I have meet so many river boat captains who say that airship travel is impractical and unorthodox and unsafe. They neglected to mention it is beautiful.”

“The airship is a relatively new invention, compared to boats. New is scary, and new is confusing. They say that only the foolish mess with the scary and confusing.” he gave a quick laugh “And as such, I am a fool among fools.”

The passenger looked at the captain and asked him.

“How did you first come to fly on this ship?” she asked.

“Ah.” he sighed “Now there is a story. Have you ever heard of Jeremiah the Mad?” the captain say the lack of recognition on the passengers face and continued. “I assumed as much, he was way before your time. Anyways, Jeremiah was a captain like I am myself on board a very similar vessel such as this one. Only he was not a captain of a passenger vessel, he was a thief and a murder and was greatly feared through out the water district.” the captain paused for a moment and took a deep breath.

“I suppose you can see were this story is going, my family owned a shipping company. The Eastern Trading Company as it was called back then. My family has just commissioned the build of a new line of passenger ships and the first one was ready for its maiden voyage.” the captain stopped once again and leaned against the railing, his mechanic leg hissing.

“My father thought is was a good idea if my family and I were on board the ship for its voyage. The first night of the voyage the ship was attacked and boarded by Jeremiah the Mad and his crew. We fought back and they killed my family. I lost my leg.” He raised his mechanic leg as he said this, then continued his story.

“I was twelve years old.” he said quietly. The passenger next to him stood staring with her eyes wide open.

“Oh my god I am so sorry!” she exclaimed. The captain gave a small smile.

“The past is the past, no use feeling sorry for what already happened” he said. The passenger stood silent, not
saying a word. The captain then turned and started to limp away. Click, clack. Click,  clack. As he walked away the passenger realized he never answered her question.

“wait!” she yelled “you never answered, how did you come to fly on this ship?”

The captain stopped and turned around to face her.

“But I did tell you, you are standing on the ship that used to belong to Jeremiah the Mad.” he said.

“What?” she said in shock. “how did you get his ship?”

“That is a story for another time.” he answered. He turned and continued to walk away, leaving her in absolute shock. As he walked away he spoke over his shoulder.

“Best be getting under shelter, a storm is picking up” he said as he disappeared under the deck.

The passenger just stood in shock watching the captain disappear. She turned and faced the guard rail and ran her hand over it, whipping dust off it. Something caught her eye. Looking down she could faintly see a symbol scathed into the railing. It read.

J

title: The Airship (first story)

question: What does the story say about how the captain first come to fly on the airship?

answer: The ship used to belong to Jeremiah the Mad. The captain says that his family owned a shipping company and was commissioned the build of a new line of passenger ships and the first one was ready for its maiden voyage. His father suggested that his family and the captain were on board the ship for its voyage. The ship was attacked and boarded by Jeremiah the Mad and his crew. They killed the captain's family. The captain does not want to explain how he get the ship.

question: What does the story say about where the ship is going?


text:
[LLU_BCover.jpg]

Undefeated

***   OUT NOW   ***

A young boxer, ready for the fight of his life. A murderous crime syndicate, wanting a piece of him. An ex-cop and his family, putting their lives on the line to save their own.

When Terry Hawkins gets a shot at the British welterweight title his whole family and community are electrified - until a powerful crime syndicate moves in and starts calling the shots.

Terry finds himself threatened and alone, but can tell his family nothing if he is to keep them alive. As the fight draws near, the thugs up the stakes and take control.

But they have underestimated the rage and resilience of the boxer’s uncle, ex-London copper Harry ‘H’ Hawkins. As Terry buckles under the pressure and the storm clouds gather, H gets on the front foot.

But time is short - can H identify and track down the men responsible for the terror and destruction raining down on his family before his loved ones start to die?

Can he juggle this with the impending death of his father, his struggle with an old adversary aiming to bring him to public disgrace and imprisonment, and his attempt to give his nephew a fighting chance of coming through in one piece?

question: Who saves Terry from the thugs?

answer: His uncle Harry 'H' Hawkins saves Terry from the thugs.

question: Does H succeed in tracking down the thugs?

answer: This information cannot be found.

question: Who's father has died?

answer: This information can't be found.

question: Does Terry make it out of the fight alive?

answer: This information can't be found.

question: Write a ~4 sentence summary.

answer:
Terry is a young boxer who finds himself surrounded by a powerful crime syndicate. The thugs take control and Terry cannot disclose anything to his family to keep them alive.

Terry's uncle, ex-London copper Harry 'H' Hawkins steps in. Will H identify the men responsible for the terror before his loved ones start to die?


text:
IAN CHRISTOPHER ELSBY (born 13 September 1960) is an English former footballer who played for Port Vale, Cleveland Cobras, Macclesfield Town and Congleton Town. His uncle is the former footballer Jim Elsby.

Playing career

Elsby graduated from the Port Vale youth team to sign as a professional in May 1978.[1] He was immediately sent out to the USA on loan with Jimmy Melia's American Soccer League side Cleveland Cobras, but returned to Vale Park by August of that year.[2] He played five Fourth Division games under Dennis Butler in 1978–79, before becoming a first team regular under new boss John McGrath from February 1980 to the end of the 1979–80 season.[3] He scored his first goal in the Football League on 9 February 1980, in a 1–1 draw with Huddersfield Town.[4] He fell out of favour the next season though, and was restricted to 23 appearances before being handed a free transfer in May 1981.[5] He moved on to Macclesfield Town (Northern Premier League) and Congleton Town.[6] He was voted Macclesfield's Player of the Year in 1981–82 and won the Cheshire Senior Cup in 1983.[7] In summer 1986 he was in a car crash with teammates Nigel Shaw, Steve Waddington and Trevor Brissett.[8]

Statistics

Source:[9]

  Club                Season                    Division                  League   FA Cup   Other   Total
  ------------------- ------------------------- ------------------------- -------- -------- ------- ------- ------- ---- ---- ---
  Apps                Goals                     Apps                      Goals    Apps     Goals   Apps
  Port Vale           1978–79                   Fourth Division           5        0        0       0
  1979–80             Fourth Division           21                        1        0        0       1
  1980–81             Fourth Division           17                        0        5        0       1
  Total               43                        1                         5        0        2       0
  Macclesfield Town   1981–82[10]               Northern Premier League   42       0        1       0
  1982–83[11]         Northern Premier League   42                        0        5        0       10
  1983–84[12]         Northern Premier League   36                        0        7        0       8
  1984–85[13]         Northern Premier League   38                        0        1        0       9
  1985–86[14]         Northern Premier League   12                        0        0        0       0
  Total               170                       0                         14       0        37      0
  Career total        213                       1                         19       0        39      0

Honours

Individual

-   Macclesfield Town F.C. Player of the Year: 1981–82

Macclesfield Town

-   Cheshire Senior Cup winner: 1983

[1]

[2]

[3]

[4]

[5]

[6]

[7]

[8]

[9]

[10]

[11]

[12]

[13]

[14]

title: Ian Elsby

question: When was Elsby born?

answer: September 13, 1960

question: What sport did Elsby play?

answer: Football (soccer)

question: Who was Elsby's uncle?

answer: Jim Elsby, another former footballer

question: Who did Elsby play for?

answer: Port Vale, Cleveland Cobras, Macclesfield Town, and Congleton Town

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer: Ian Christopher Elsby is an English former footballer who was born in 1960. He began his professional career in 1978 and played for Port Vale, Cleveland Cobras, Macclesfield Town, and Congleton Town. In 1986, he was in a car crash with several of his teammates.


text:
Katie asked Artie to meet her at the Mexican restaurant, the bright yellow, stucco building just down the street from her house. It was a place they often went to eat. Artie sat on the plastic bench across the table from Katie. Katie’s blue eyes looked larger, even more beautiful than usual. But though her eyes were wide, they had less depth.  It was as if the deep pools of her eyes had dried up, leaving pure calcite rings of white and shallow puddles of blue that had once been seas.

Artie stared down at the table top. The surface was brown formica with a fake pattern of wood grain. He looked up at Katie, she brushed a lock of her auburn hair away from her face.

“Are things going to be OK between us?” Artie said, his voice was flat.

“I don’t think so” Katie said.

“What did I do wrong?”

“Nothing” Katie said. Her voice was flat too, but it had an edge like anger.  It wasn’t anger, “It’s over between us. You left some of your stuff at my house. I put it in a box on the porch, you can come get it whenever”.

Artie’s right hand was gripping a little plastic arch with the number “12” on it.  Just then a voice came over the intercom,

“Number 12”, the voice said.

Artie moved to slide off the bench and stood up, he looked down at Katie. “Are you going to stay and eat?”

“No” she pulled her purse over her shoulder and slid off the bench and stood up.  For a moment she and Artie stood close to each other. It didn’t help that she looked unusually beautiful.  Artie didn’t reach for her.  Even the habit of a parting embrace had dried up, his insides felt dried up. He stood feeling awkward for a moment. She looked very straight and dignified. Suddenly perfect. Then she turned and crossed the restaurant toward the door.  Artie’s eyes followed her as she pushed open the glass door and walked out into the parking lot. There was a big, arched window on either side of the door and he saw her as she crossed the parking lot. The warm March sun fell reddish on her hair.  It didn’t help that she looked very beautiful, even at a distance, walking across a parking lot.

“Number 12”, the scratchy intercom voice said again.

Artie went up to the counter and exchanged the plastic arch for a tray with their meals.  The tray held two lunch specials; tacos, enchiladas and piles of beans, orange rice and shredded, colorless lettuce.

Artie set the tray down on the table and picked at the food. Then he got up and walked to the restroom.  He cried a little bit in the bathroom stall then came back out.

When he came back from the bathroom, he saw one of the restaurant employees dumping the tray with the two lunch specials into a garbage can.  She looked up at him. She must have thought he was done eating.

Artie smiled at her vacantly and walked toward the exit.  He crossed the parking lot. That’s one thing that’s hard about being alone in the world, Artie thought as he got into his car; people throw your food away.

title: La Xalapena Mexican Restaurant, Savannah Georgia (550 words)

question: Why does the narrator feel such pain about his breakup with Katie?

answer: Probably because he still loves Katie. It might also be because Katie never gave a reason for breaking up with him. There is also Katie's beauty, which makes him feel like he is losing something valuable.


text:
NUALA NÍ CHONCHÚIR (born 14 January 1970) is an Irish writer and poet.

Biography

Born in Dublin in 1970, Nuala Ní Chonchúir is a full-time fiction writer and poet, living in County Galway. She has published one novel, four collections of short fiction and three poetry collections - one in an anthology. She holds a BA in Irish from Trinity College Dublin and a Masters in Translation Studies (Irish/English) from Dublin City University. She has worked as an arts administrator in theatre and in a writers' centre; as a translator, as a bookseller and also in a university library. Nuala teaches creative writing on a part-time basis.[1]

Her short story “The Wind Across the Grass” (the title story from her 2004 collection) won the RTÉ Francis MacManus Award in 2002.

Ní Chonchúir was featured in _The Irish Times_ “People to watch in the year ahead” on Saturday 3 January 2009.[2]

She was writer in residence for the 2009 Cúirt International Festival of Literature.[3]

Her third short story collect, _Nude_, was published in Autumn 2009 by Salt Publishing.[4]

In November 2009 her poetry pamphlet _Portrait of the Artist With a Red Car_ was published by Templar Poetry.[5]

2010 saw the publication of her first novel - _You_ was published in April by New island books.[6]

Her poetry collection _The Juno Charm_ was published by Salmon Poetry in November 2011.[7]

Her fourth short story collection, _Mother America_, was published in June 2012 by New island books.[8] The story “Peach”, from the collection, was published in _Prairie Schooner_{{'}}s Winter 2011 issue and was nominated for the 2012 Pushcart Prize.[9]

She has also written an essay for the Wales Arts Review's Bloomsday edition.[10]

In September 2013 Tower Press (USA) published _Of Dublin and Other Fictions_, a chapbook collection of Nuala's flash fiction.[11]

Her second novel, _Closet of Savage Mementos_, published by New island books in April 2014, was shortlisted for The Kerry Group Irish Novel of the Year Award 2015.[12]

In October 2014 she was nominated for the Laureate for Irish Fiction.[13]

Nuala's third novel, _Miss Emily_, was published by Penguin USA and Penguin Canada in July 2015, and by Sandstone Press in August of the same year. This was her first novel as _Nuala O'Connor_.[14]

_Miss Emily_ was shortlisted for the Eason Book Club novel of the Year 2015[15] and was nominated for the 2017 Dublin International Literary Award.[16]

Review quotations

“...The novel flows beautifully and is understated in tone... This gem is sure to win her further acclaim. Nuala Ní Chonchúir is a writer to watch.”[17]

“… one of Ireland's most unusual and creative minds; [her fiction is] dressed in modernity, a ritual playing of the bones of Irish storytelling.” [18]

“Look for some big things to come from Galway's Ní Chonchúir. She has such a diversity of work and can say so much in just a few words that it's obvious she's also an award-winning poet. Her stories are filled with very astute observations, some humorous, some sad.”[19]

“..._Nude_, with its thematic discipline, is a memorable achievement. As with Brendan Kennelly’s ground-breaking collection of poetry, _Cromwell_, it is satisfying to sit down with a book that sets itself an explorative, self-questioning agenda, full of witty voices rendering adventures both savage and absurd.” _The Irish Times_[20]

“..._You_ deserves to find a place in our pantheon of much-admired, beautifully crafted variations on a theme” _The Irish Times_[21]

“...[You] flows beautifully and is understated in tone. The author, who lives in Co Galway, has already won prizes for her poetry and short stories. This gem is sure to win her further acclaim. Nuala Ní Chonchúir is a writer to watch.” _Irish Examiner_[22]

Bibliography

Novel

-   _You_ (2010 as Nuala Ní Chonchúir),
-   _The Closet of Savage Mementos_ (2014 as Nuala Ní Chonchúir),
-   _Miss Emily_ (2015 as Nuala O'Connor),
-   _Becoming Belle_ (2018 as Nuala O'Connor),

Short story collections

All as Nuala Ní Chonchúir

-   _The Wind Across the Grass_ (2004),
-   _To The World of Men, Welcome_ (2005),
-   _Nude_ (2009),
-   _Mother America_ (2012)
-   _Of Dublin and Other Fictions_ Chapbook (2013),

Poetry collections

All as Nuala Ní Chonchúir

-   _Molly's Daughter (From Divas:new Irish women's writing)_ (2003),
-   _Tattoo:Tatú_ (2007),
-   _Portrait of the Artist With a Red Car_ (2009),
-   _The Juno Charm_ (2011),

[1]

[2]

[3]

[4]

[5] _Portrait of the Artist With a Red Car_ (Templarpoetry.co.uk)

[6]

[7] _The Juno Charm_ (salmonpoetry.com)

[8]

[9] _Prairie Schooner Winter 2011_

[10]

[11] _Of Dublin and Other Fictions_ (Tower Press)

[12] _The Kerry Group Irish Novel of the Year Award 2015_

[13] _The Arts Council list of nominees for the Laureate for Irish Fiction._

[14] Penguin Author Page

[15] _Eason Book Club Novel of the Year 2015_

[16] [_Dublin International Literary Award 2017_

[17]

[18]

[19]

[20]

[21]

[22]

title: Nuala Ní Chonchúir

question: Summarize Nuala Ni Chonchuir's life.

answer: She was born in Dublin. She is a writer and poet. She hold a BA in Irish from Trinity College Dublin and a Masters In Translation Studies from Dublin City University. She has worked as a translator, bookseller and in a university library. She teaches creative writing on a part-time basis.

question: What do reviewers praise about Ni Chonchuir's work?

answer: Reviewers praise her work's tone and flow. They all state she is a writer who is important to watch. They also praise the diversity of her work.


text:
Introduction

Before we begin, please allow me to introduce myself. My name is not important, but who I am is. I am the last and only remaining observer of the apocalypse. The story you are about to read is about you and everyone you love.

Part 1 – Heat

“I can’t wait for the winter.” Zach says to himself, staring out his bedroom window at an empty park across the street. Zach is a 20 year old human, a college drop out. He was a political science major before the announcement. He didn’t see any reason to have any ambitions given the situation.

He sits on the edge of his bed and turns on the television in his room. He grew up in this house, and he knows it intimately. The volume on the television is too low to hear, Zach still looks outside of the window. “It will be better in the winter” he sighs.

The local 6 o’clock news plays silently. The closed captioning on the news reads “farmers are leaving their crops at a quickening pace, food prices are skyrocketing”.

Zach is still day dreaming about the cold when he is startled by a knock at the door.

“Dinner is ready!”

It was obvious to Zach’s mother that she had startled him. She already knew what was on his mind.

“I didn’t mean to scare you. We’re all a bit jumpy this time of year.”

Zach’s family didn’t have to worry about food prices. Zach’s parents were both involved in lucrative careers, and he has always enjoyed most everything he has ever wanted. Today all he wanted was to go outside and run for miles. If he ever got the chance, he decided he wouldn’t plan on stopping, and that he would run until he couldn’t run anymore.  Running outside is against the law now, and has been since the announcement. Only the police are allowed to run outside, and even then only under special circumstances. A boy who lived down the street ignored these rules a couple weeks ago and there has been no word of what happened to him since. Zach envied him, and hated himself for being too scared to follow his lead.

At the dinner table the discussion was brief and short as usual. Humans don’t talk as much as they used to. Humans are funny; they will do anything to keep living. Actually almost everything has changed since the U.N. made the announcement last April. The humans have migrated to rural areas at a staggering rate, and businesses have their employees work from home whenever possible.  Air conditioning is mandated for every property. The more comfortable people are, the lower their heart rate is. This keeps them alive longer. This helps them survive.

Zach finished his food and went back to his room. He spends most of his time there, watching television and drawing. He finds peace in solitude. As an optimist he tries to keep his brain on the move, just in case there is a solution. Apathy is his death and he knows it.

He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, chasing sleep. He dreams about Christmas as a child, the presents, family gatherings, and snowball fights.

title: O - Part 1

question: Why is running outside against the law?

answer: It may be implied that people were forced to remain indoors for their own good and hence going outside may have been considered a crime.

question: What was the announcement made by U.N.?

answer: The U.N. may have announced that people stay indoors for their own benefit.

question: Why does the narrator give up on his ambition?

answer: Given the situation of being locked indoors, Zach feels that it is pointless to be ambitious in such a world.

question: Was the winter going to make the situation at hand better?

answer: This information cannot be found.

question: Write a ~6 sentence summary.

answer:
Zach calls himself the only remaining observer of the apocalypse. As he sits on his bed daydreaming about winter, his mother calls him for dinner. Zach's belonged to a financially sound family. All he wanted was to go outside and run as much as he could but it was not against the law.
Zach wonders how humans have changed since the U.N. announcement. He goes back to his room and finds peace in solitude.


text:
Last Friday, we launched our Time Well Spent report, the result of a year’s work asking the public about their volunteering experiences. Using a YouGov public opinion panel, we asked more than 10,000 people a range of questions about how and why they volunteered. Questions that you (the volunteer management community) helped put together. Thanks!

Why is this such a big deal? Well, the world is changing faster than we have ever seen. This directly influences how people see the world. This includes what people expect from their volunteering. However, the last comprehensive look at how and why people volunteer was the national Helping Out survey in 2007 and a lot has changed since then. As one of our members put it: “I’ve been relying on Helping Out for so long now, it’s great to have some up-to-date research!”

I’m not going to lie – there is a lot of data to get thorough! So much that we’ll be producing reports throughout the year to help you get your head around it. As a starter, here are five things which jumped out for me.

Different people expect different things

Shocking, right? However, this is quite a crucial one for volunteer managers. Over a third of volunteers felt things could be better organised; but, around a quarter felt there is too much bureaucracy. What is a volunteer manager to do!?

There could be a couple of reasons for this. Perhaps it shows the need to have proportional management for the types of roles you have. Or, that different groups have different views on the same type of management. One area (discussed at the launch) which I think we could delve into further is if we are starting to over-manage and under-lead volunteers?

[]

Those who could benefit most are least likely to volunteer

We know volunteering offers a huge stack of benefits. However, the most significant differences between volunteers and non-volunteers are socio-economic status and education levels. It seems that volunteering is excluding people. Specifically, those who can’t afford to help or don’t have the qualifications.

This doesn’t need to be the case. One of the key reasons why people don’t get involved in volunteering is it hasn’t crossed their minds – they have never been asked. Given that four-fifths of volunteering takes place in local communities, local volunteer centres have never been more important.

It’s important to be social

The social aspect of volunteering has been apparent for a while and it is still true today. Around one in five people start volunteering to meet people or make new friends. And 68% of volunteers believe it helps them feel less isolated.

Surprisingly, the groups who were most in agreement that volunteering made them feel less isolated were 18-24 (77%) and 25-34 year olds (76%). For me, this highlights just how important it is to invest in getting volunteers to socialise together through inclusive and age-appropriate methods.

THOSE WHO HAVE NEVER VOLUNTEERED ARE MORE LIKELY TO BE:
•       25-54 years old

•       from lower socio-economic groups (C2DE)

•       educated to a lower level

•       male

•       unemployed or not working

•       living in an urban area.

People are less likely to want to designate time to volunteer on a regular basis

We’ve suspected this for a while – and now the public has spoken. Only 30% of those thinking of volunteering in the next year want to give time on a regular basis. Most (about half) would rather dip in and out, or only attend a one-off event.

This is a good trend to be aware of and many organisations are now starting to look at the relationship with a volunteer as a lifelong thing. I also think this is a good tactic for recruitment. Volunteering with a new organisation can be hugely intimidating, especially if you are expected to sign up to a lengthy period of regular volunteering. My advice – start off small and see if you can build that relationship over time.

Don’t underestimate the power of ‘thanks’

We’ve all met those volunteers… You know, the ones who say they don’t want thanks. Or cringe at a certificate. Or would rather we spend our time supporting service users than throwing a party. The research supported this, with only 40% saying recognition is important.

However, we don’t always realise the full impact of someone’s words on us – and that seems to be the case here. ‘Thanks’ is strongly associated with satisfied volunteers and the most popular method was a verbal or written thanks from the organisation. So, time to dust off the thank you cards and get Volunteers’ Week into the diary.

The NCVO National Volunteering Forum took place last Friday and was heavily focussed on the report. Learn more about the insights and discussions by watching our video of key sessions from the day.

What next?

Need help using this latest research? Investing in Volunteers is a great way to make sure your volunteer involvement is up to date with all the latest in good practice. We’ve also started to update our guidance on NCVO Knowhow and will let you know if anything major changes.

question: Why did Time Well Spent conduct a survey on their volunteering experiences?

answer: To determine what volunteers expected from their experience.

question: Highlight the results which stood out the most on the Time Well Spent survey.

answer: People who benefit the most are least likely to volunteer, different people expect different things, and the importance of socialising.

question: When was the Time Well Spent report launched?

answer: It is not stated.

question: What are the benefits of volunteering?

answer: According to the survey, it shows that people get a chance to socialise and get to be a part of an organisation and build a life-long relationship with them.

question: What differentiates the volunteers from non-volunteers?

answer: According to the author, their socio-economic status and educational levels.

question: Where does the most volunteering work take place?

answer: Local communities.

question: Why do people volunteer?

answer: According to the survey, it appears people volunteer to socialise and feel less isolated.

question: List only 3 categories of people who have never volunteered, as stated by the author.

answer: Males, those educated to a lower level, and those living in an urban area.

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer: The Time Well Spent team organised a survey with over 10,000 people to determine why and how they volunteer. Their survey showed that; people expect different things when they volunteer, they also volunteer to meet new people and make new friends, and as it turns out, those who could benefit from it are least likely to volunteer. While organisations that create lifelong relationships with volunteers are considered a good recruitment tactic, volunteers must start small with new organisations and work to build relationships over time.


text:
April 6, 2052, 1 pm

Agent Martin makes his way back to work after lunch break. His office, on the top floor of the Data Security Center—DSC—is indistinguishable in design and contents from the other offices on the vast floor. All are small soundproof rooms, windowless, shut off by black sliding glass doors. Each office is a command center.

Martin takes his seat, yawns, and puts on his headset. He enjoys his job; it often reminds him of playing video games as a youth. He turns to the monitor on his right, strikes a few keys on the keyboard, and up pops a panel showing birds-eye footage of a suburban neighbourhood. A large textbox underneath reads “Approaching Destination: 200 meters”. The number steadily decreasing. This damn wind hasn't let up the slightest, he thinks, shaking his head. It had been extremely windy the entire day. Prior to leaving for lunch, he had delployed a set of four drones—as was the standard deployment—packed in a larger camoflauged container-unit—camo-con—which was the source of the footage now on screen.

The targets name was Wesley Smith. His activities had been flagged with  “Acute Suspicion”  by the system earlier that morning. All such cases required the attention of and if necessary, investigation—or “analysis” as it called—by an agent. Martin considered it bad luck when such cases were assigned to him. He had groaned when the notification had popped up. The day was fairly quiet and he'd been having great fun micro-managing a drone in a local park. The notification had presented him with a typically boring task. Wesley was sixteen years old. Another stupid sixteen year old that's fascinated with how drugs or bombs can be made, he'd thought then. However, to his delight, he found that the flag had nothing to do with the users querying history, but rather it's lacktherof. Wesley, it seemed, had found himself some very good encryption software—that the system must be unfamiliar with—as over the past nine hours, his data footprint had been reduced tremendously, triggering the flag. Martin had let out a whistle as he thought about all the different possibilites. There was a small chance that this kid possesed data that could lead to him to the source. These were the types of cases Martin was best at. He would surely get a promotion if he were to uncover the creators behind some black market encryption package. He had then followed the standard procedure, flagged the case as “Under Analysis” and had deployed the drone set. The wind however, had delayed what should have been a half-hour trip to over an hour.

Now, he watches as the container unit stops at ten meteres from what he assumes is the target's home. Gusts of wind gently rock the camera side to side. The house is an average looking two-storey house, an exception being the large apple tree in the front yard. Hanging from the tree, a tire-swing slowly sways back and forth. It's the swing that flashes in Martin mind; as a kid, he had a friend who lived in a home on that very street. Passing by here, he would often see children pushing each other on that swing. His mind wanders, and he finds himself wondering whether Wesley—No, he must'nt get distracted. The system begins running a series of tests to confirm that this is the correct house, then ejects the four drones from the container, and prompts Martin to guide the entry.

This was probably the most enjoyable part of his job. He begins micromanaging the blade—the smallest, quickest and most agile of the set—and defines a distance for the others to trail behind. The blade was one inch long, half an inch wide, and four millimeters in height. It was a dull shade of grey and perfectly smooth. A barebone unit, it contained just a nano mic-cam component, a communications component, a power supply, and over a dozen micro-motors; it was fairly stealthy, ideal for recon. It's light weight also meant however, that it was a challenge to control in the wind, and Martin througly enjoyed this challenge.

After zipping around some for fun, he spots an open window at the back side of the house. He thought it a bit odd for a window to be left open when it was this windy, but was able to determine that the room is unoccupied. As the small drone caravan silently advances into the dark room, the monitor to Martins left begins blinking. The hound—a relatively clumsly unit that Martin almost hadn't included—had detected illicit substances in it's proximity. A line of bolded text on the monitor reads: SUBSTANCE: [SCHEDULE I - CANNABIS], the last word—CANNABIS—appearing in green font. The change in font color was Martin's little hack to his own station, thus no one else would ever see it. He chucked to himself whenver it came up.

He suddenly dreads including the Hound in the set, and hopes it's a false positive. Standard procedure had to be followed now.  He issues the command for the drones to begin inspecting the room. Martin ran his own alrorithm—a feat that as far as he knows, only he has acomplished—for room inspection and was proud of it. The largest unit—the Tech—contains the processor shared by the four and is responsible for giving instructions to the other three. In fact, even now, the signals sent to the Blade by Martin are first processed by the Tech, and then only passed on if it considers them safe. It is a highly complex unit whose nano-mechanics Martin had always been in awe of, but was not authorized to program. Just to override it's room-inspection algorithm had taken him weeks and numerous demonstrations. But he had done it, and now the three drones would sniff, photograph, and record the sound in every visible and acessible space in the room, in at most three minutes. As the blade, he slides underneath the centimeter tall gap underneath the door, sees that it leads to an empty hallway, and remains there as a lookout.

When the inspection completes, Martin sits silenlty looking over the new data while carefully listening for any sound through the headphones. The Bat, a unit with ultrasonic capability, working with the Hound had determined that a desk—the laptop sitting on which Martin disappointedly noted was powered off—contains in it's drawer, between three to four grams of marijuana.

For the second time that day, Martin groaned. There was nothing more he could do here. Had he not discovered the weed, he could have gone probing further to try and hack a device on the network. But the presence of the drug had already been logged by the system. The case was no longer in his domain. Any further risk taken by him would be overridden or worse, logged and reported, by the Tech. He would not be doing any hacking today.

As he begins to type out the mandatory report to send back to PRISM, he wonders who the case will be assigned to now—if it hadn't already—and what type of power and authorization that person has. Maybe, he thinks, it's someone inside this building somewhere.

Regardless of what the system would do with the information he had just added to it, he was fully certain that young Wesley's days of being a free man were numbered.

title: 1952

question: What is Martin's job?

answer: He is an agent at the Data Security Center.

question: What country is Martin from?

answer: That information isn't available in the text.

question: Who is the Hound?

answer: The Hound is an object used by Martin in the investigation of Wesley. It is able to pick up illicit substances.

question: Summarize everything related to cannabis in this story.

answer: Three to four grams of marijuana are picked up by the Hound, which means standard procedure has to follow. The case Martin was working on now has to go to a different domain, and Wesley will probably get in trouble for the marijuana.

question: Is Wesley a good person?

answer: There is nothing to indicate that Wesley is a good or bad person in this story.

question: Why did Martin groan for the second time that day?

answer: He seems bothered that he detected marijuana in Wesley's room because now he can't probe any further.

question: How does the Bat work?

answer: It is a unit Martin is using in this investigation that has ultrasonic capabilities.

question: Write a ~5 sentence summary.

answer: Agent Martin is tasked with investigating sixteen year old Wesley for the Data Security Center. Wesley's activities had been flagged as "Acute Suspicion", and Martin suspects that his data could lead him to the creators of a black market encryption package. However, during the investigation Martin's gadgets detect marijuana in Wesley's desk. Martin is frustrated because now a different domain will have to investigate Wesley, and Martin can't probe any further. Regardless, Martin believes Wesley's days as a free man are limited.


text:
LOUIS BENSON SELTZER (September 19, 1897 – April 2, 1980) was an American journalist who was editor-in-chief of the _Cleveland Press_, a now-defunct daily newspaper in Cleveland, Ohio, from 1928 until his retirement in 1966. As editor of the _Press_, Seltzer became one of the most powerful and most well-known citizens of Cleveland, earning the nickname “Mr. Cleveland”. Under Seltzer's leadership, the _Press_ gained the largest circulation of any newspaper in Ohio and cultivated a reputation as a “fighting paper” that “fought like hell for the people”.

As editor of the _Press_, Seltzer emphasized the public service aspect of the paper and “vigorously developed the notion that his reporters were watchdogs for the public over political and governmental affairs”. He also gained a reputation as a “kingmaker” for his successful sponsorship of numerous local politicians, including Cleveland mayors Anthony Celebrezze and Frank J. Lausche, who later became governor of Ohio and a U.S. senator. Seltzer was the subject of both glowing praise and harsh criticism, particularly for his extensive coverage of the trial of Sam Sheppard.

Early life and career

Seltzer was born on September 19, 1897, in Cleveland, Ohio, on the west bank of the Cuyahoga River. Seltzer's father, Charles Alden Seltzer, was “a frequently unemployed carpenter and a totally unsuccessful writer of romantic short stories”.[1] The family lived in poverty during Seltzer's early years; when Seltzer was 12 and in the sixth grade, he dropped out of school to work as an office boy at _The Cleveland Leader_. Although his father started to earn money as a writer about a year later, by then Seltzer was successful enough at his own job that he refused to quit and return to school.[2]

At the age of 14, Seltzer met Marion Elizabeth Champlan, and the pair were married when they were both 18. Shortly after getting married, Seltzer moved to the _Cleveland News_ to work as a reporter, but was fired shortly thereafter. After a short enlistment in the Army, Seltzer was hired by the _Cleveland Press_ as a police reporter,[3] and became a city editor in 1916.[4] However, Seltzer felt he lacked the experience for the position and resigned after three months, switching to the role of political editor.[5]

Editorship of the _Cleveland Press_

Seltzer became editor of the _Cleveland Press_ in 1928.[6] During his editorship of the _Press_, Seltzer became one of the most well-known and most powerful people in the city,[7] earning the nickname “Mr. Cleveland”.[8][9] Under his leadership the _Press_ gained the largest circulation of any newspaper in Ohio,[10] and cultivated a reputation as an advocate for its readers. Seltzer described the _Press_ under his leadership as a “fighting paper” that “fought like hell for the people”.[11] During his editorship, Seltzer was the subject of “glowing”[12] profiles in the national media, which emphasized his civic mindedness, his flamboyant public persona, and the freewheeling atmosphere of the _Press_ newsroom.[13][14] More recently, Seltzer has received both unfettered praise,[15] and some criticism for his handling of certain stories, particularly the Sheppard trial.[16][17]

Community involvement and advocacy

Seltzer emphasized the public service aspect of the _Press_ and was personally involved in numerous civic and charitable endeavors.[18] According to Seltzer's obituary in _The Wall Street Journal_, “With Mr. Seltzer at the helm, the _Cleveland Press_ played an important part in bringing the city such things as downtown redevelopment, a municipal zoo, bridges, highways and parks along what was once a dilapidated Lake Erie waterfront”.[19]

“Kingmaker”: Political activities

As editor of the ''Cleveland Press, “''Seltzer vigorously developed the notion that his reporters were watchdogs for the public over political and governmental affairs”.[20] According to a 1950 profile of him in _LIFE_ magazine, “No crook in public office has slept well in Louis Seltzer's regime, although many a crook in private pursuits has doubtless slept like a baby”.[21] According to later writer James Neff, “When local government did not function, the _Press_ struck with editorial might, even if it meant using a sledgehammer to crush a gnat. Overkill could be rationalized because the cause was just, for the little guy. Anyone who tried to play outside these rules or who was perceived as looking down on his mostly blue-collar readers, Seltzer enjoyed taking down a peg”.[22]

Seltzer also gained a reputation as a “kingmaker”[23] for his use of the paper's influence to help the careers of numerous local politicians, including “Frank J. Lausche, who served as mayor of Cleveland, governor of Ohio and a U.S. senator, Cleveland mayor Anthony Celebrezze, Thomas A. Burke, also mayor and then a U.S. senator, and Supreme Court Justice Harold H. Burton”.[24] According to a 1950 _LIFE_ profile of Seltzer, “No civic campaign can get off the ground without his support, although no worthy cause... ever lacks it. For more than a decade nobody has been elected mayor or carried Cuyahoga County for governor without the backing of the _Press_”.[25]

Coverage of Sheppard murder

In July 1954, when Sam Sheppard, a Bay Village doctor, was accused of murdering his wife, the _Cleveland Press_ published a series of front-page editorials, some written by Seltzer himself, alleging Sheppard's guilt and pushing for swift, punitive action from the local authorities.[26] The stream of editorials began with the July 20 article “Somebody Is Getting Away With Murder”, written by Seltzer himself.[27] The following day, the _Press_ published another front-page editorial, addressed directly to County Coroner Sam Gerber: “Why No Inquest? Do It Now, Dr. Gerber”. A few hours after the editorial was published, Gerber ordered an inquest. And on July 30, the _Press_ published an editorial entitled “Quit Stalling – Bring Him In”. Sheppard was arrested on a murder charge that evening.[28]

Seltzer and the _Press_ later received harsh criticism for their handling of the case. Federal district judge Carl A. Weinmann, in his 1964 ruling that Sheppard did not receive a fair trial, partially blamed the media, particularly the _Press_: “If ever there was a trial by newspaper, this is a perfect example. And the most insidious example was the _Cleveland Press_. For some reason that newspaper took upon itself the role of accuser, judge and jury”.[29] The United States Supreme Court ruled on June 6, 1966 in _Sheppard v. Maxwell_ that Sheppard did not receive a fair trial because of the negative publicity he received in the press.[30] F. Lee Bailey, one of Sheppard's lawyers, later wrote that “Seltzer used his newspaper like a club, ordering politicians around like minions and intimidating everyone who disagreed with him. If Seltzer was roused, he would spread a personally penned editorial across eight columns of his newspaper, seeking to grind some unfortunate dissident under his heel”.[31]

Seltzer defended the _Cleveland Press_ and his own personal involvement in the case in his 1956 memoir _The Years Were Good_. Seltzer argued that he was convinced the Sheppard family was involved in a conspiracy to get away with murder and that he personally wrote the editorials, instead of passing them off to one of his employees, out of concern for the safety of his staff.[32]

Later life and death

Seltzer published his memoir, _The Years Were Good,_ in 1956.[33] The memoir, which Seltzer published himself,[34] is written in the “rags to riches” mold of Horatio Alger in that it emphasizes Seltzer's rise from relative poverty to professional success via persistent hard work.[35]

After retiring as editor of the _Press_ in 1966, Seltzer occasionally wrote columns for suburban newspapers and also published a collection of character sketches, _Six and God_ (1966). He continued to associate with more than 50 organizations and was on the Pulitzer Prize Advisory Board from 1956 to 1968.[36] When Seltzer's wife died in 1965 he moved in with his daughter, Shirley Cooper, in Rocky River, Ohio. When Cooper and her husband moved to Spencer in Medina County in 1973, Seltzer moved with them.[37] Seltzer died in his daughter's house on April 2, 1980 at the age of 82. Seltzer's living relatives at the time of his death included his daughter, two siblings, four grandchildren and one great-grandchild.[38] His son, Chester E. Seltzer, who was also a journalist and writer,[39] had died in 1971.[40]

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title: Louis B. Seltzer

question: Which role did Louis Benson Seltzer hold at the Cleveland Press under until his retirement in 1966?

answer: He was the Editor-In-Chief of the Cleveland Press.

question: What is the most notable achievement of the Cleveland Press under Seltzer?

answer: It became the largest circulation of any newspaper in Ohio at the time.

question: What job did Seltzer hold when he dropped out of school?

answer: He worked as an office boy.

question: Why did Seltzer resign his role as a city editor in 1916?

answer: Because he felt he lacked the experience for the position.

question: Write a ~6 sentence summary.

answer:
Louis Benson Seltzer was the Editor-In-Chief for the Cleveland Press for over 20 years. During that time, he became one of the most popular people in the state and made Cleveland Press the most circulated paper.

Seltzer was born into poverty, his dropped out of school to become an office boy. He became successful and transitioned into news and reporting.

Seltzer rose to the post of a city editor but he resigned from the role after three months, citing lack of experience. Over the years, he gains a reputation as a "kingmaker" for using his paper's influence to help the career of many local politicians.


text:
THE SILENT POETS is a Japanese electronic duo (now solo project). They have released six original albums and more than seven remix albums/EPs until now. Gaining international recognition, Silent Poets has been featured in countless music/fashion magazines, and in over 30 compilations around the world ranging from the USA, UK, France, Germany, and Italy, including the well known “Cafe Del Mar” compilation.

Their music style is in the best Acid Jazz / Down-tempo traditions and have something in common with such artists as their countryman DJ Krush, United Future Organization, DJ Cam, etc. Among the characteristic features the deep piano parts, rich colourful orchestra sound and undulating charming rhythm could be highlighted. The Silent Poets collaborate with such electronic / pop / rap music stars as ACO, Port Of Notes, Coldcut, Frederic Galliano, Attica Blues, Yasushi Ide, DJ Vadim, Kid Loco, Towa Tei, Spiritual Vibes, Shakkazombie, Ken Hirai, and Ursula Rucker.

The Silent Poets speak the universal language of music, whether amongst themselves on the instrumental “Mass” (off 1996's _Firm Roots_) or supported by guests such as Last Poets Jalaluddin Mansur Nuriddin and Sulieman El-Hadi on “Inquizative, Derivative” (off 1994's _Words and Silence_).

History

Silent Poets was formed by Michiharu Shimoda in 1991. Their first meaningful work was the album _Potential Meeting_ released in 1992 on Toy's Factory. After releasing their fifth album _To Come..._, Hiruno left the group and Silent Poets became Shimoda's solo project. After that Shimoda composed music for fashion shows, released a huge number of remixes. The 2005 album, _Sun_, was released after a six year gap in recordings.

Discography

CD

-   _Potential Meeting_ (1993, Toy's Factory)
-   _Words and Silence_ (1994, Toy's Factory)
-   _drawing_ (1995 Toy's Factory)
-   _Firm Roots_ (1996, Toy's Factory)
-   _For Nothing_ (1997, Toy's Factory)
-   _To Come..._ (1999, Toy's Factory)
-   _Sun_ (2005, Rush! Production)
-   _Another Trip from Sun_ (2013 Another Trip)
-   _dawn_ (2018 Another Trip)

Singles and EPs

-   “La Vie”/“Shalom” 12“ (1994, Bellissima Records)
-   “Drawing” CD/LP (1995, Toy's Factory)
-   _Cherry Tree EP_ CD/12 (1997, Toy's Factory)
-   _Sugar Man EP_ CD (1999, Toy's Factory)
-   “Save the Day” 12“ (2000, Yellow Productions)
-   “Someday” 12“ (2000, Yellow Productions)

Soundtrack

-   _A Woman Like You_ (1993)
-   _Tori_ (2004)
-   _Death Stranding_ (2019)

Compilations

-   Cafe Del Mar vol 2 (dos), 1995
-   Funkungfusion from Ninja Tunes, 1998
-   X-Mix: Fast Forward & Rewind[1]

[1]

title: Silent Poets

question: What does the article say about J-Rock?

question: How can the effect of Hiruno's departure be seen in the Silent Poets' records?

answer: The next album from the Silent Poets after Hiruno left took six years. Usually, they took one or two years before then. This slow-release cadence continued from then on.


text:
[]

Damon Hill

Expert Analyst

Sky Sports F1 pundit believes team cannot challenge for championships with same engine as Mercedes team

Last Updated: 19/01/16 10:56am

[ ]

Sky Sports F1's Damon Hill feels Williams must ditch their Mercedes engines if they are to return to winning ways and challenge for championships.

Hill won his 1996 world title driving for the Grove team, but in the last 11 years they have won only one grand prix.

A dramatic turnaround saw Williams jump from ninth in 2013 to third in the constructors' championship in 2014 and 2015, but to make the next step Hill feels the team need to swap Mercedes power for Honda power.

"I sort of suggested to Claire [Williams] last year that the problem is they have the same engine as the Mercedes team and that is always going to be a barrier between them winning a championship and Mercedes themselves winning a championship," Hill told _Sky Sports._

"I think as a team wanting to win the outright championship strategically they would be better off with another engine and I think the only other engine you can think of is a Honda.

"I would have liked to have seen Williams opt to go with the Honda engine, I think Honda are going to fight back.

"They had an absolutely catastrophic year last year, but they learnt a lot, I could be wrong, but if they make the sort of impression they should do, then for Williams to get ahead of Ferrari and Mercedes they are going to have to have a different engine to the Mercedes team."

[ ]

question: When was the article written?

answer: January 2016

question: What sport is the article about?

answer: (Automotive) Racing

question: Who says they would have liked to see Williams go with a Honda engine?

answer: Damon Hill

question: Who is Damon Hill?

answer: A Sky Sports F1 pundit and former driver for the Grove racing team

question: Write a ~1 sentence summary.

answer: Damon Hill, a Sky Sports F1 pundit, argues that Williams must switch from a Mercedes engine to a Honda engine in order to win a championship.


text:
1. Snow falls, lightly at first, with the utmost grace. The freezing, white flakes descending upon the ground like a ballet in white with each separate flake performing a dance more beautiful than the last. The ground is beckoning the chilly oppression as the white blanket falls on a dying soul calling for breath.
1. 	A single, solitary light is shining down upon the scene in the darkness. The flickering streetlight appears as the sight of God. It glances down, taking in a sight of unholy torment yet it knows it must watch for if it doesn’t then truly nothing will.
1. 	Under the light sits a being, scarcely human. It makes the sounds of a retching beast, while gnawing the life from the veins of its prey. All is silent, bar the sickening wretches of a beast and the fading gasps of mortality slipping away.
1. 	The pristine blanket of snow surrounding the monster and its victim is slowly being melted away by the spilling of blood. The flowing scarlet erases all sign of purity just as the vampire draws all innocence away from the man in its grasp. Slowly it consumes his essence and slowly its desire is sated by pain and torment.

title: The Vampyre of Time and Memories Pt. 1

question: What is the setting of the story?

answer: The setting is a nondescript snowy location.

question: Who is the main character?

answer: A vampire is the focus of the story.

question: What is the scene in the darkness?

answer: The vampire is killing its victim.

question: Who is dying?

answer: A man the vampire is killing

question: Write a ~2 sentence summary.

answer: A vampire sucks the blood from a man. When all the innocence is drawn from the man, the vampire is sated by pain and torment.


text:
1

He dies.

----------

2

He treads water and clenches to his split and failing craft. He says,

"And so I lay here on the splinters of my self spun boat. These planks I hewed  and wrapped in sinewy fibers. These oars I snapped from limbs and carved. The cracks were caulked by mine own  hand. And proving water tight I sailed. And now it's just hardly sinking in.
So what of my final home? Where am I to set my weariness? It's been some years last I was blessed and sinned I have since. Not only under great duress but often.

For instance, more or less every time she was there. I'd break to stretch my legs and walk the block thru the market to saunter past she, the dancing lass on the corner. Just this bit uncovered by the buttressed booths awnings and she dancing in the break of it, in the eye of it, in that one shaft of light amidst all of it, she ran with the capstan and called to all hands, we weather this squall I'll see once more my betrothed!

She never saw me though. And I but briefly stood by there, to admire her twirlings and soak in her, illustrious. So my pleased smile, my eyes so warm, my even clap to the fiddler's foot, it all tasked the viewer to match my own gaiety.

And blending so, leading bystanders even by my example, it was a simple thing  to walk right past as she turned her back. I'd spin while I clapped and feinting a fall, grasp right and left and deftly snatch some lustrous coins right from her cup. Tumbling back up and cradling my split head, no one thought me for a second to be a simple street thief, they so stricken in grief with my wail, pain excruciate!

Not for the need was it did, not for the spare of loose change in my tailored track pants. And I didn't do it for the thrill of the deed, as some mischief making teen might to defy the truth of his prolonged wean from the bottle. No, for I drank like a fish myself! why had you bottled me up then I'd have been your greatest chum. So, no, no miscreant am I, for  I  never drew pleasure from my criminality. and never did  I consider my personal vices to be  the  essential stuff of my character. Why, I washed in the drink like some wash in the tub, that virtue I claim.

And in virtue I am poor, I'll scrap till the last for any bit of it. So no miscreant am I. You might think me then some wayward soul, aimless and in need of direction. You couldn't be wronger. Now, my aim is fine and when I set mine I hit it near every time. But my sights have long been set low, and by some force of inertia, or by that complacentness so apt to befall idealists like myself, I've settled low and never flown far. And in my shade all canopy bowered I've lurked so long I remember none else. Now when I dream, I dream of a cavern deep, one watered dark and pooled.

Some irony then! Me, here, adrift all sun baked and isolate, like a toy in the bath. But this pool interconnects all over the globe and so really never seperated, I can say my last gasp and wherever she might be sea gazing she need only crane one ear cupped and strain some little bit to hear my words thus:

Please pray for me Amanda, our hearts once joined fast, so that I may see you again when all this has passed."

His tawny hair drops below the surface, there's no thrashing. Only bubbles, and soon naught.

----------

title: Last Musings Adrift

question: Why did he steal her coins if he didn't need them and it wasn't for mischief?

answer: Maybe he wanted to catch her attention somehow.

question: Why did he not want her to see him since he always made sure he was there to see her?

answer: Perhaps he didn't want her to know that he knew she danced or that he watched her

question: What did he do with the coins that he took from her?

answer: Perhaps he saved them to deposit back with her. That's not likely because he defends himself so one would expect that he would say if he was returning the coins to her.

question: Why does he imply that watching her dance was a sin or transgression?

answer: Maybe because he was doing it without her knowledge or maybe because he intended to steal her coins

question: Write a ~11 sentence summary.

answer:
He treads water and clenches to his split and failing craft. It is a craft of his own making. He remembers how he would walk through the market nearly every time the dancing lass is there. She claims that once she has weathered the squall, she’ll see her betrothed again. But, he says, she never saw him because he hid from her.
When her back was turned, he’d snatch coins from her cup and he didn’t do from need nor for mischief. He drinks like a fish and sets his sights low, but he’s no miscreant.

Now he’s adrift, sun-baked and isolated and he thinks thus; “please pray for me Amanda, our hearts once joined fast, so that I may see you again when all this has passed." And hopes that she will hear him.

His tawny hair drops below the surface, there's no thrashing. Only bubbles, and soon nought.


text:
Whenever I'm on campus I always make it a point to stop for a drink from the same fountain in an alcove of the English building around the corner from my creative writing lab. My intentions are not  so much directed by my physical thirst, but by the certainty of her presence. Perpetually hanging out in her frame above the fountain, she gazes out at me from amidst a charcoal tangle of bed sheets. Her shoulders and clavicle are curves of smooth brown velum stroked by her maker's pencil. He created perfection in her eyes. They draw me to her like inky pools of pulsing gravity. Often, I end up stooped over with my gaze averted towards the ceiling slurping much longer than I need to.

The sketch is titled, In the Morning. How many times I have wished to have actually been there on that morning, to be the lucky one who first saw her lying there in the flesh, a vision to inspire any form. He's the one who gets all the credit on the placard though. “Troy Munro, American, b. 1986. Troy's works in many mediums are inspired by placid scenes of everyday reality.” Everyday reality? Who are these curators kidding? Girls like that don't exist in everyday life! They inexplicably manifest out of some interdimensional field of radical perfection, on a collective mission to populate artists' receptions and backstage band interviews. “So,” the man with the tape recorder asks, “where do you draw your inspiration from?”

What was it like on that first morning when he woke up in her bed? Was he so smitten that he immediately leapt up and reached for his notebook and pencil to immortalize the moment? Would she have thought he was weird if he did? Was she complicit? Is she a model? One thing I know for certain is that she was drawn in her natural habitat, completely at home, wrapped half modestly in those rumpled sheets. No, it can't have been the very first morning because no human being could possible exude that kind of perfectly serene languor after such an uncertain, seminal night as the one which surely preceded, could they? That would be so cool. I wish I knew who she was, and whether or not her and Troy Munro's relationship came to the eventual, fortuitous demise that I'm imagining.

I live with my girlfriend, Jenny, in an apartment off campus, and we mostly get along. Sometimes we seem to get so busy though that we exist merely as images passing through each other's space. The cohabitation thing really didn't come about as the result of a well thought out plan, it more or less just happened. My old roommate dropped out of school in the middle of last semester and bailed on the lease. Two weeks went by and nobody responded to the fliers I hung on billboards around campus. My ad said, “Space available. Potential applicants should be fastidiously undistinguished, not lacking in discretion, and tasteful in habit and manner. 1 bedroom, separate bath, $400/mo. plus utilities.” I guess I was looking for another ultra-ironic English major. At least Jenny puts up with my mess making.

Last week I left a Facebook conversation up on my monitor with a girl from my Film and Lit. class about an extracurricular movie we watched together. During the ensuing hostilities I tried to cobble together some kind of scholastic justification for our liaison, but Jenny tested my fumbling excuses like a tuning fork and they all rang hollow. That night I slept in the computer room, on the floor in a sleeping bag, staring up at the glow of my desktop.

The next day I found myself back at the fountain, head bowed as if in wistful supplication. Please relieve the futility of my situation. As I gaze at her portrait her voice glides smooth as pulp into my ear, “It's already a perfect morning, Robert.” Now that I'm lying next to her I'm beginning to understand the image from a different perspective. That stack of books on her nightstand wasn't visible from the other side of the fountain. She's obviously a grad student; every volume meets my perspicuous approval- discourses by Barthes, a collection of Thoreau, confessions of Augustine, even a door stopping volume of DFW. The same voices flow through her supple mind as through mine. We hardly need to speak, but we do. Dialog after dialog, bantering easily in the most natural poetry and prose, there in her room, in the morning.

Back at the apartment that evening and Jenny can't believe that I didn't bring home any take-out for dinner. Seriously, after yesterday, I can't even bother to grab some Chinese? The cable has been cutting in and out all evening and she tried to call but the account is in my name and they won't do anything unless I talk to them. But the call center is closed now because I took my sweet time coming home. Don't I understand that she would have cleaned the kitchen if she hadn't had her class and then her internship, and what had I been doing all morning at home by myself anyway? Maybe if I controlled my time better, both of our lives would be a lot easier. Oh yeah, and have I checked my fucking Facebook lately?

That night I lay curled up on the floor and dreamed of stealing that picture.

In the morning, when I am with her, time ceases to function in its usual jet propulsed way. Her artfully tossed sheets freeze sloping rifts in the continuum between space, time, and everything else. We clamber barely clothed among the many incidental ridges, trekking the badland hills of her linens like a couple of early morning wanderers trying to rediscover where we pitched our tent. She stokes the smoldering campfire and boils organic fair-trade coffee for us in a speckled green percolator. Even in the desert wilds, this one has class.

It's nine P.M. and students and faculty are clearing the academic building in mass exodus. I have very little desire to go home, and my company has already been politely declined via text from the girl from Film and Lit.. Sitting on a bench in a deserted hallway reading Don Delillo, I must look like I'm waiting for someone. In a way, I suppose I am. I unzip my backpack and wander around the corner to the fountain. There's a moment where my adrenaline jumps and I am petrified that someone is about to come out of the restroom while I'm stuffing her into my bag. I feel kind of creepy to be honest, but I can tell that she wants to come home with me. So I commence with the theft. At the last second I decide to snatch the descriptive tag along with it. Now the only evidence left of her abduction is a tiny white hook. These corridors are hung like art galleries; nobody will even notice that she's gone.

When I get home, Jenny is already shut off in the bedroom watching HBO on the DVR. Right now I am ever so grateful to be separated, even just by walls and noise. I don't dare get a hammer and nail out right now to hang her properly, so I just lean the frame up against the wall on the back of my computer desk. I check online to make sure I haven't missed any messages, fiddling around with the title placard while I click around and think. This tag is evidence against me. It has got to go. I already know the title of the piece, and of course the preeminent Troy Munro signed his own work. There's no getting around that, but it's mine now. Sorry about it friend. I'll just throw this card in the dumpster tomorrow when I go out for a smoke. But that's in the morning. For right now I'm just going to sit here in my computer chair for a while and just stare at her.

title: [MF] Stolen Work

question: Summarize the narrator's problems with his girlfriend.

answer: They live together. One day, the narrator forgets a Facebook window open on his computer screen. It shows the discussion he had with a girl from Film and Literature class about a movie they went to. The narrator's girlfriend, Jenny, questions the narrator, but apparently, he fumbles the answers. The next day a few daily annoyances pile up on Jenny, and the blame falls upon the narrator.

question: What is the primary conflict of the story?

answer: The narrator is smitten with a drawing of a beautiful woman hanging on the school's corridors. He daydreams in the mornings while looking at her. After an argument with his live-in girlfriend, the narrator dreams about stealing the drawing. He manages to do so without getting caught.

question: What does the story say about the love between the narrator and the girl from the Film and Literature class?


text:
READ: Alex Cole Hamilton MSP writes that our relationship with the US should not come at the expense of our respect for human rights, the rule of law and equality

By Alex Cole-Hamilton MSP Feb 01, 2017 12

AMERICANS PUT GREAT STORE IN THEIR NATIONAL IDENTITY, “THE LAND OF THE FREE AND THE HOME OF THE BRAVE” IS A PHRASE LISPED BY PRE-SCHOOL CHILDREN FROM SEA TO SHINING SEA. BUT TO MY MIND A COUNTRY WHICH DENIES SANCTUARY TO REFUGEES, ERECTS WALLS TO PEACEFUL NEIGHBOURS, CURBS THE PRESS AND SANCTIONS TORTURE IS NEITHER FREE NOR BRAVE.

Many have watched in horror as the progressive legacy of Barrack Obama has been comprehensively devoured in the early days of Donald Trump’s post-truth presidency and with it, a cold awakening to a new kind of America.

That matters. Much of the hopes of the Brexiteers were pinned on a swift and fulsome trade detail with America to mitigate the trade vacuum caused by us (somewhat rashly) pushing the ejector seat button on the Treaty of Rome. Trump’s rhetoric in his inaugural address is a clear and present threat to that plan.

In advance of her meeting with the 45th President, the Prime Minister said that in partnership with Donald Trump our two nations can ‘lead the world again’. That’s a bullish claim, and one designed to appeal to the Donald’s sense of entitlement. But in these fractured times how can this be possible? The world is gazing at Brexit Britain, with a sense of alarm only tempered by their terror at the witness they bare to the birth of Trump’s new order.

During the EU Referendum the Brexiteers called on the British people to take back control. But how much control are we going to have when we need to engage with a country whose leader’s first impulse is to insert punitive, protectionist caveats into deals that put the interests of his country above all others?

Put simply, Theresa May is leading Britain into a new alliance which affords us far less influence than we enjoyed within the EU. A partnership with a leader who fails to understand the simple definition of partnership will only take us for granted.

My party hasn’t given up on the EU, nor will it, but naturally we want a healthy trading partnership with the US whatever our future relationship with continental Europe. That relationship should not however come at the expense of our respect for human rights, the rule of law and equality. My hope is that Theresa May will use these pillars of British sensibility to bring Trump and post-truth America to its senses. The signs aren’t encouraging:

We have a Tory Government pandering to the xenophobic, insular right wing of its own party as it  pirouettes over EU departure and if there was any resistance shown to Trump in the US last week it comes in the odd and highly inappropriate form of a state visit and holding hands.

In that context I rather suspect that the world she talks of leading smacks more of days of empire and the 19th century, than of the cosmopolitan and liberal society that I want to help build.

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question: What is the main subject of the article?

answer: The UK's relationship with the US under President Trump

question: When was the article written?

answer: February of 2017

question: Who is the author?

answer: Alex Cole-Hamilton, a Member of the Scottish Parliament

question: How does the author feel about Brexit?

answer: The author feels that leaving the EU was a rash decision that will hurt the UK

question: Write a ~2 sentence summary.

answer: The author discusses a recent visit by Prime Minister Theresa May to newly-inaugurated President Trump. The author is not optimistic about US-UK relations and feels that leaving the EU will hurt the UK.


text:
No sound, and even though Jack’s eyes are closed he knows wherever he is its very bright. And forcing his eye-lids open with more energy than he had ever used before to do such a task. He brought up an arm to shield himself from a light that most surely wasn’t artificial but was at the same time. As if the light was coming from all around him but nowhere at the same time.

	He tried to speak but found that no words escaped him. And he slowly sat up and looked around to get his bearings. Wherever he was, he’d never seen anything like it before. There appeared to be an expansive stretch of nothingness before him. A long and vast whiteness, He was sure this was a dream, that this feeling of unrelenting sadness gripping him, deep down in the pit of his stomach was just a nightmare that had yet to reveal the punch-line.

Where am I? He thought as he stood up. It took a lot of energy to accomplish this task, his bones and joints were sluggish and clumsy. Once he managed to get to his feet he became dizzy, to the point where he had to put his hands on his knees and bend over for a minute to let it subside.

	Squinting through half closed eyes he tried to look around again and though the light was still very bright it had abated slightly and he could finally stand up straight again. He rubbed a hand over his eyes. He tried to call out again but the words still wouldn’t come. He knew he was speaking but he couldn’t hear anything coming out.

	“There is no use trying to speak.” A woman’s voice came from behind him, seemingly out of the nothingness; A very familiar voice.

	He slowly turned around and was sure that this was a dream. The sight of her made his heart drop, stop and melt all at the same time. He couldn’t remember her name but he knew that he had known this girl very well, knowing every inch of her body and most of her personality.

	She just smiled sadly and took a step forward she moved with a grace and sadness that brought a breaking dread to Jack and he squinted as he watched her move about as if she were gliding along the floor that wasn’t there. This is a dream? He thought to himself and he wasn’t very surprised to hear her speak again. “In a way it is. In a way it is not.” He frowned and looked around again. Where are we?

	“We are everywhere, and nowhere at the same time. We are together again, but apart forever.” She smiled and stepped closer. He suddenly didn’t want her to come any closer and he felt tears forming in his eyes. What do you mean?  She merely smiled. “Is it too bright here? Your eyes haven’t adjusted yet. It will take some time.” She glanced around and as she did the air around him seemed to shift and change.

	And now he was standing in the middle of an old bar. Four pool tables off to the right, and a bar in the middle. The girl was now behind the bar. “Do you remember this place?”  Jack looked around the room. It was empty aside from them. He nodded slowly. It’s where we met. But I can’t remember your name. After all these years, I’ve known you. I’m sorry.

	She just smiled sadly again. “That is not important. My name is no longer a part of your memory.” She moved around the bar and poured a double of whiskey. “This was your favorite wasn’t it?”

	Jack instantly felt something churn in his stomach and he shut his eyes for an instant he heard a sort of siren blaring and then he opened them again, the room had changed once more. They were in his apartment lying in bed. Her head on his chest, her short hair brushed away from her upturned face. “This is where we spent our first night together.” She smiled. And he felt like crying even more. I remember you saying that we had to do this or we’d never know if it was worth it. He thought.

	“Was it worth it?” She asked and kissed his collar bone lightly. An icy chill ran up his spine. He shuddered. Every single second of it.

	“Every second.” She sighed and he felt her cool hand intertwine with his. “I need to tell you something Jack.” I know, This isn’t a dream…  He felt the tears now, they had been escaping the corners of his eyes for who knew how long. What happened? Where are we?

	He shut his eyes and the blaring siren slipped back in for a moment And the voices of people shouting in the distance.

	“You are dying. People say that your life flashes before your eyes before you die…” Her voice was getting distant. Further away and Jack squeezed his arms around her holding her close. The body he held tightly. Don’t leave me. Please Don’t leave me! The sirens were stronger now piercing the walls of his subconscious.

	“You have to make a choice.” She said. Her voice was distant and muddled now. “I Hate to give you such a cliché ultimatum but you have a choice to make.” Jack nodded his head, the room around him swam and rippled seeming to meld the moldy ceiling of his apartment with a starry night sky. “Stay here with me. Or go back.” Her voice was coming in a little stronger now. What happened? Where’s back, why aren’t you there?

 	“Do I really have to say it?” She sat up on her elbow and looked down at him. And he knew there from the sadness in her eyes and the way she smiled soothingly down at him. He reached a hand up and ran a thumb along her jaw-line. “All you have to do is choose. There is still time. Go back.”

And with that he knew what he had to do. He brought both hands up to hold her face gently in his hands and he pulled her down close to him so that their noses were touching. And he was able to find his voice. “There is no life for me, without you.” And he smiled.

	She frowned for a moment and scrunched her nose up. “Are you sure?” She asked. And he smiled.

“From the moment I saw  you, Ash...”

	The ambulance rumbled along the lonely stretch of Arizona highway, and the coroner’s van behind it. “Jimmy, turn off the siren… We’ve lost him.” The paramedic paused checking his watch. Sat up and removed his rubber gloves. “CPR is unsuccessful. We can’t work him back up.”

title: "Ash" By FallenMonument

question: What does Jack see in his vision?

answer: A beautiful woman he cannot remember.

question: What does the woman tell Jack?

answer: He can choose to leave or stay.

question: What does Jack choose?

answer: To stay with the woman and die.

question: How does the story end?

answer: We see medics in an ambulance who are unable to resuscitate Jack because he has chosen to die.

question: Write a ~2 sentence summary.

answer: This story is about a man, Jack, who is dying and has a vision of his dead lover who invites him to the afterlife. He chooses to go with her, and he perishes.


text:
A light laughter floats upwards. A brunette holds a handful of cut straws. A group of girls shy away before reaching out to claim their own. They all pull one of the neon plastic tubes out of the cluster, and I reluctantly follow suit. My reluctance doesn’t result of fear, but a faintly disinterest in the proceedings. The Walk, like most of Patty’s designs, is the result of a night of light drinking and the need to always have some new idea that everyone else will just think wildly entertaining.

“Annalise, you drew the short straw.”

“I,” the sentence is started before I glance down to compare the length of my own straw to that of everyone else’s’. “I suppose I did.” A light shrug falls off my shoulders. The whole game seems silly to me, and I’m not worried to have lost the draw.

Patty walks to the sofa where her purse sits to pull out a long strip of cloth. “Blindfold time, Annalise.”

Rebecca takes the length of blue cotton off her hands and closes the distance between us with a few awkward steps. I turn my back to her and tie my hair in a ponytail. The other girls watch with interest. This is the first time I have actively participated in any of the games that didn’t involve drinking. Everything goes dark as the knot cinches at the back of my head.

“Can you see anything?” Patricia asks the question, presumably from her previous position at the other side of the room, and I simply shake my head in response.

“Then let’s go. Unless you’re afraid of the dark.”

A biting retort reaches my lips and I hold it down, reminding myself that these aren’t the girls from my previous school. As far as I know, it a friendly taunt, and not a subtle way to intimidate me.  In an attempt to just be friendly a smile spreads across my lips and I shake my head.

“Not afraid of the dark, but maybe this will be different.”

Someone, most likely Tracy, judging by the small size of the hand grasping my elbow, guides me towards the door.

“Just count to twenty, and then walk.” Tracy’s voice sounds by my ear and I inwardly congratulate myself on my excellent guess.

The 6 girls take off in different directions, footsteps giving away their positions at first, but quickly fading away until I’m left with just the numbers sounding in my head. I count slowly, determined to play this silly game with as much seriousness as I can muster. If I am being completely honest, The Walk seems mostly like an initiation into this new group. The fact that we drew straws is my only consolation that this wasn’t some form of twisted setup. Once again I remind myself that these girls are followers of Patty’s whims, and not the gossiping malicious one I left behind when I transferred.

A deep breath fills my lungs with the cool fall air, and I can almost feel the full moon shining down. Of course, that’s all in my imagination, but without my vision it’s running wild. I take the first step off the porch and slowly walk forward. A rustle of leaves to my right catches my attention and I quickly turn my head in that direction, tripping a bit as I do so. Obviously my brain has forgotten that I’m blindfolded. The uncertainty of the situation nags at my anxiety, but I take another deep breath to calm myself.

 “It’s just a game.” An inner mantra begins repeating itself, but is quickly abandoned as I struggle to figure out what’s going on around me without eyes.

A scream dashes through the air, ending as quickly as it began .It was convincing, but I know better.

“That’s really funny, girls. Scream all you want, I’m not scared.”

There’s no response to my announcement, and I smile widely. So that’s how they want to play this. I should have known that a simple walk through the woods wasn’t all Patty had planned for whoever drew the short straw.

Another scream, much like the first, cuts through the air. It’s followed by the sound of a person crashing through the forest. The smile remains spread across my face as I keep walking, these girl’s are going above and beyond to scare me.

“Patty, oh my god, Patty!” Rebecca’s distressed voice reaches my ears, and for the first time I a m a little bit worried.

More screams and the sound of running fill the air until I can’t even hear the leaves under my own feet.

“Annalise, take off your blindfold, there’s someone-“ the sentence is torn short by another scream. I know the rules though. The blindfold must stay in place until someone comes to you and pulls it off, signaling that I have successfully completed the walk. I don’t even reach upwards, determined not to fall for their tricks.

The screaming eventually quiets down, one girl at a time and I struggle to keep my footing and my breath. At some point I started running. My legs and arms burn with scrapes and cuts from the branches I had encountered. I hadn’t realized how scared I actually was until I stopped running and realized that the only sound was that of a light fall breeze, creeping through the trees.

“Patty?”

No response.

“Patty, this isn’t funny anymore. Can I take off the blindfold?”

Still no response. I know that I’ll never hear the end of it for chickening out, but that doesn’t matter anymore. A deep fear gripped me, as irrational as it was, and I need to see what was happening around me, I need to be reminded that this was just a game.

My finger pulls at the knot holding the blindfold on and it eventually falls to the ground at my feet. I blink several times, getting used to seeing again as someone approaches me from the left.  I turn to see Emily, the quietest of Patty’s followers, covered in blood with a knife in one hand, and Rebecca’s head in the other.

A twisted smile. A knife covered in blood. A terrified girl running away through the woods.

title: The Walk (A Short Story)

question: What is "the walk?"

answer: The "Walk" is a game designed by Patty, the leader of the new group Annalise wants to be part of. Participants draw straws, and the shortest straw has to walk through the woods blindfolded while the other girls scare her. Only another member of the group can take off the blindfold.

question: Why is Annalise blindfolded?

answer: They're playing a game called "The Walk" and she drew the shortest straw.

question: Why are the girls screaming?

answer: Initially, Annalise thought the screaming girls were trying to scare her, but another member of the group, Emily, was actually killing them off one by one.

question: Why is Annalise wary not to fall for tricks?

answer: Annalise is new to the school and wants to fit in with Patty's group. She thinks that completing the walk would do the trick.

question: Write a ~10 sentence summary.

answer: Annalise is new to the school and wants to be part of Patty's group. To fit in, she plays a game Patty came up with called "The Walk," where the person who draws the shortest straw has to walk through the woods blindfolded while the other girls try to scare her and trick her to take off the blindfold (the person doing the walk can't touch the blindfold). Annalise draws the shortest straw. During her walk, Annalise hears the other girls screaming, and thinks it's all part of the game. Suddenly, Rebecca approaches her, sounding distressed, telling her to take off her blindfold, but Annalise thinks it's a trick. Rebecca tries to warn Annalise of something, but her warning is cut short by a scream and there's only silence. Terror grips Annalise and she takes off her blindfold, not caring about the rules anymore. She sees Emily, the quietest member of Patty's group, covered in blood and smiling. She's holding a knife in one hand and Rebecca's severed head in another. Annalise is terrified and runs away.


text:
Coconut water has become very popular in the recent years and is now available in most of your favourite grocery stores. Make sure to opt for the unsweetened, organic brands to make sure you get the real thing.

Here are six health benefits of coconut water.

1.  IT LOWERS BLOOD PRESSURE

Thanks to its magnesium, vitamin C, and potassium content, drinking coconut water on a daily basis, can reduce your blood pressure. Two glasses of coconut water is enough for you to use as a yummy “maintenance medicine” for balanced blood pressure. (1)

2.  IT CAN REHYDRATE YOUR BODY — FAST

Coconut water has a bunch of electrolytes that can help you retain water in your body and hydrate you as well. In addition to that, it has complex carbohydrates as well, which makes coconut water a good energy or sports drink replacement. (2)

It has even been used as an alternative to blood plasma transfusions to rehydrate the body in extreme emergencies or remote areas were resources are low. (3)

3.  IT CAN REDUCE HANGOVER

The best way to cure a hangover is avoiding alcohol in the first place, but if you do get one, coconut water is the second best natural cure.

Technically, hangovers are originally called “dehydration due to alcohol binging last night syndrome.” Just kidding. Since coconut water can rehydrate you, it can also alleviate hangovers. Although, the damage has already been done, so it cannot magically remove hangovers instantly. Nevertheless, the time you need to suffer will be greatly reduced.

4.  IT CAN TREAT HEADACHES

Headaches can be caused by a lot of things. If it is caused by dehydration, you know that coconut water can help. On the other hand, if that headache is due to a migraine attack, coconut water can help, too. Because of coconut water’s magnesium content, it can relieve migraine sufferers. Continual consumption of coconut water can even reduce the frequency of migraine attacks. (4)

5.  IT CAN MAKE YOU LOSE WEIGHT

This is what you have been waiting for ladies. Coconut water can actually stave off a few pounds from your body; however, it does not have that direct effect as you may have hoped for. First of all, you can replace your favourite sweetened drink or cola with it. Coconut water is better and can make you reduce weight since it is low on calories and sugar.

In addition, it can help you manage your body’s water content. Since coconut water has lots of potassium in it, you can also effectively manage your body’s sodium content, which retains water and makes you feel bloated and fat.

6.  IT CAN HELP YOU MANAGE YOUR BLOOD SUGAR AND DIABETES

Coconut water also contains amino acids that can help your body produce insulin better and regulate blood sugar levels. Passively, it also reduces glucose levels in the human body and it can alleviate the oxidative stress buildup in your body. (5)

And these health benefits of coconut water are actually only the tip of the iceberg. there are so much more good things coming from adding coconut water to your daily diet. Delicious on its own or we use it often as a liquid base for our green smoothie.

Sources:

1.  http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/15892382
2.  http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/17883020
3.  http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/10674546
4.  http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/9523054
5.  http://pubs.rsc.org/en/Content/ArticleLanding/2012/FO/c2fo30066d#!divAbstract

IF YOU ARE LOOKING FOR A WAY TO LIVE A HEALTHY LIFESTYLE WHILE EATING DELICIOUS, COLORFUL MEALS AND LOSING OR MAINTAINING WEIGHT, CLICK HERE

DON’T FORGET TO DOWNLOAD MY FREE BOOK “AMY’S HOME KITCHEN”, PACKED WITH MY FAMILY’S FAVORITE HEALTHY, CLEAN AND DELICIOUS RECIPES. OR CONNECT WITH ME ON FACEBOOK OR GOOGLE+

[Amy Goodrich]

Amy is a life and food lover, certified biologist, and holistic health coach. She is the founder of the healthy lifestyle website www.Body-in-Balance.org and creator of the online program, www.ThinForever.me. After successfully changing her family’s health and happiness, she’s on a mission to help other people achieve the life and body they want. You can find here on Facebook or Google+ or get her free clean, whole food recipe eBook here: http://www.body-in-balance.org/amys-home-kitchen-recipe-book/

question: Summarize the author's reason for recommending coconut water.

answer: Coconut water contains electrolytes to help with hydration, magnesium that can help with migraines, and some amount of complex carbohydrates to replace energy drinks. It can also replace sugary drinks as a tasty alternative and help with weight loss. In general, the author claims there are a lot of health benefits to drinking coconut water regularly.

question: What does the article say about the health benefits of cucumber water?