text:
The 1994 IDAHO VANDALS FOOTBALL TEAM represented the University of Idaho in the 1994 NCAA Division I-AA football season. The Vandals, led by sixth-year head coach John L. Smith, were members of the Big Sky Conference and played their home games at the Kibbie Dome, an indoor facility on campus in Moscow, Idaho.

Led by quarterbacks Eric Hisaw and Brian Brennan, Idaho finished the regular season at 9–2 and 5–2 in the Big Sky, and the Vandals again made the Division I-AA playoffs.[1]

Notable games

After advancing to the semifinals in 1993, Idaho was ranked tenth in the preseason I-AA poll, won their first seven games, and climbed to third in late October.[2] They traveled to Missoula and top-ranked Montana won the Little Brown Stein for the fourth consecutive year.[3] The Grizzlies then lost two in a row to fall to third in the Big Sky standings.[4][5]

In the regular season finale for the conference title,[6][7] the Vandals lost to rival Boise State for first time since 1981, as the Broncos won in Boise.[8][9]

Division I-AA playoffs

For the ninth time in ten seasons, the Vandals made the 16-team I-AA playoffs and were ranked sixth in the regular season's final poll.[10]

With Boise State and Montana hosting, Idaho was sent on the road in the first round,[11] and they lost at fifth-ranked McNeese State in Lake Charles, Louisiana.[12] Montana advanced to the semifinals but fell to Youngstown State, who defeated Boise State in the championship game.[13][14]

Notable players and coaches

Sophomore defensive end Ryan Phillips was a four-year starter;[15] he moved to outside linebacker as a senior in 1996,[16][17] and was selected in the third round of the 1997 NFL Draft by the New York Giants. He played five seasons in the NFL, including Super Bowl XXXV in January 2001.

Two future Vandal head coaches were on the staff: Nick Holt (defensive coordinator/defensive line) and Paul Petrino (receivers).

This was Smith's final year as head coach at Idaho and his 53 wins leads the Vandals' all-time list; Dennis Erickson is next, with 36 in five seasons.

Schedule

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[5]

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[17]

title: 1994 Idaho Vandals football team

question: Where did the Idaho Vandals play their home games?

answer: The Kibble Dome

question: Who is the head coach of the Vandals?

answer: John L. Smith

question: Which division does the team play in?

answer: Division I-AA

question: What year did the Vandals advance to the semifinals?

answer: 1993

question: Write a ~2 sentence summary.

answer: This Wikipedia article is about the University of Idaho's football team, the Vandals. The article includes a description of the notable games, Division I-AA playoffs, and notable players and coaches.


split: train

text:
So I needed to write a short story about a mundane task and wanted to know if people actually liked it.  So here it is.

Putting Away Groceries

Ok, so you just got home after a long day’s work and went to the store when all you really wanted to do is go and flop on the couch unconscious for the next 8-10 hours and start it all over again the next morning; but not right now.  You had to go to the store and buy some more canned dog food because apparently the dry stuff doesn’t cut it anymore; and you regretfully can’t keep trudging on without feeding yourself either, so to the store it was.
You park the car and grumble to yourself as you straighten out your back, feeling every sinuous inch of muscle protest as you force it into straightness, preparing yourself for the two flights of stairs that you now have to brave because you live on the second floor.  As you lock the door and shuffle around to the back of your car you look up at the sky and think to yourself “Why is it 80 degrees in January? Someone broke Florida.” You pop the trunk and look at your loot from your own personal treasure cove also known as Wal-Mart, and consider whether to make one trip or two; and you know what?  You’re only youngish once and you decide to use what’s left of your depleted energy to hike yourself up the stairs only once.
After all of the groceries are loaded up to your elbows, you shut the trunk with your chin (because you’re that committed to use as little energy as possible) and make your jolly way towards your apartment.  At the base of the stairs you observe a moment of silence for the muscles in your legs that you are about to murder on the long and torturous climb to the top of mountain.  The first five steps go without any extreme discomfort; and the next five; and the next five… Ok, so you really aren’t as young as you once were and now the creaky joints and popping muscles in your arms and legs are starting to laugh at you.
You reach the top of the stairs, wheezing and puffing as your heart is racing in your throat, and all you want to do is give up and lie on the concrete that is the top of the stairs… This loaf of bread looks like it would make a good pillow… SNAP OUT OF IT!  You shake yourself and limp the last twenty feet or so.  Why are you limping?  You really are dramatic aren’t you?  Now that the door is in front of you, you use your knee to push up your grocery laden arm and bring up the key that is still in your hand, unlocking the door and pushing it open in one expert move.  The dog flies out the door to release the pee that he has probably been holding in for the better part of the day; he’ll probably come back.  He knows who feeds him.
That’s when the smell hits you; garbage everywhere!  That’s probably why the dog ran like the devil was on his heels.  It’s annoying and the last thing you want to deal with right now, but you get on with your life and begin to maneuver the mine field that is now your living room/den/dining room area.
You swing your arms up and the groceries clear the edge of the counter by an unmeasurable distance.  Feeling how light your arms are now, you enjoy the moment of bliss.  Yet you still need to take care of the garbage, remember?  Ah yes, your frisky Fido decided to redecorate while you were out selling your soul to feed his lazy ungrateful carcass… you did however find the remote you assumed was eaten last week under the ottoman.  Good, at least your wood chipper of a dog didn’t get to that yet.
After the battle field was cleared, you turn your attention back to the thousand pounds of stuff that is now spread all over the kitchen counter.  You grab the icy cold gallon of milk and feel as though it’s about to cut your fingers off where the sharp edges of the plastic mold joins as your hand slides from the base to the top of the handle.  Why do you always do that?  You know it’s going to happen, why don’t you just grab it from the top?
After you finish putting away all the groceries, you grab a can of dog food and step out the front door.  You hold it out at arm’s length and yank the top open as forcefully and loudly as you can, give it about ten seconds, and there he is tearing across the lawn to eat his brown mush.  You dump it in his bowl, or at least you tried, because he caught it in his open maw as you wiggled it out of its slimy metal cocoon.
Now that everything’s taken care of, you kick off your shoes, and don’t even bother to get changed out of your work clothes as you flop down into bed.  The dog runs his head under your hand in an attempt to get you to pet him, which you do.  It was just then that you remembered you forgot to get paper towels at the store.

title: Short Story For School.

question: Where does the story take place?

answer: Florida

question: What is the author's relation to Fido?

answer: Fido is the author's dog.

question: What does the author forget to buy at the grocery store?

answer: paper towels.

question: Who does the author compare to a wood chipper?

answer: The wood chipper reference is about his dog, Fido.

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer: The author writes a short story for school about putting away groceries. It is a warm 80 degrees in January in Florida. Meanwhile, the author brings all the groceries inside in one trip and the dog flies out the door from either having to release the pee or from the smell of garbage inside.


text:
He’d been thinking a lot lately.  The only conclusion he’d come to was that thinking was clearly dangerous.  An activity which should be engaged in only under duress, or when otherwise absolutely necessary.  He wondered what it was that attracted people to it.  IT didn’t appear to get him anywhere that was for sure.  In fact all it ever seemed to do was confuse..

The metro car was filled with about a dozen people - a pretty blond in a floral patterned dress, a less pretty brunette in a tight business suit, and a number of boring looking men of various ages and weights.  Everyone in the car was frowning.  The D.C. frown as he liked to call it.  The inward focused intense frown of someone who’s grinding away a job they have worked their whole life for but don’t really believe in.  The frown of bureaucrats and DOD contractors.  He wondered when it would happen to him, and glancing at his reflection in the window realized it already had.

When?  He thought and quickly admonished himself.  Better to loosen the muscles and move on than think.  Thinking was dangerous.  The frown lines were saddening though.

A stop was called out which he knew to be his, but he didn’t get off.  There wasn’t any reason for it, not one speck of reason at all really, but he rode the train out.  He remained unmoved as the stops were called out and people flowed slowly out of the car “Fort Totten” - rang the unusually clear voice of the conductor, “College Park” it said some time later.

His name was Barron.  He had  a first name, but there were a lot of other people in the office who shared it.  Better to use his last exclusively where possible. It was almost never an issue though, people rarely used his name anymore. Even the bartenders knew him visually now and didn’t need to be told when he asked to close his tab.  That was one good bit about his burgeoning alcoholism.  That and the lowering sex drive - he’d been really wild for a while there and after a couple of scares with various STD’s was glad for the excuse to limit his promiscuity.

“Greenbelt” mumbled the car’s operator, while the lights flashed on and off, repeatedly.  There wasn’t anyone else on the train.  “This train is no longer in service, I repeat this train is no longer in service”.

A auburn haired woman was fleeing from him, first up stairs, then out windows, via horse drawn buggies and cars, boats and airplanes.  Always giggling and turning with smiles, egging him to catch her, but always just out of reach.  Exotic lands blew through his minds eye, and fortunes were spent in the chase, men and women alike were crushed under his feet as he strove for her and yet still she was always just beyond him.  Finally his hand reached out and was a mere inch from hers - At Last he would have her, his love…..

His head bounced up, eyes wide and confused while he slowly realized he was sitting in the off black of near light-lessness..  He reached a hand over and found tbe computer bag.  It was stained with food and other less knowable substances and had very little going for it save that it’s low price point - free.
After a moment or two of collection, bones and muscles moved together to list his body upright.  He was unusually stiff and achey and began to wonder just  how long he’d been asleep.

No one paid him any mind as he wandered around the train yard, idly investigating wheels and other things he didn’t know the name ofs.  The vocabulary to describe what he saw was severely lacking, and what was saved were fantasy images of machinery.  The soft black of rubber was remembered most vividly - it was something he was familiar with at least.  After several hours he wandered away from the train yard and found a cab home.  It was very expensive.

____________________________________________________________________________

Breakfast consisted of a bagel.  Sometimes eggs or sausage, but generally a single bagel.  He would pump his body full of protein shakes, unseasoned chicken, whey protein and bananas later in the day but for breakfast it he was a slave to routine.  In the early evenings on alternate days he would run - usually around six miles.  The remaining days were gym days - brazilian jiu jitsu, boxing and greco roman wrestling were his favorites.  He would mix in Muay Thai occasionally but his shins would hurt too much for his runs.  In the intervening time he would read, drink alcohol and do various recreational drugs.  If he wasn’t engaged in any of the above activities he was at work.

	“You’ve been with us for awhile now.”

Days blend.   It’s what happens as you age.

	“You’ll be taking on more responsibility.”

	I’m excited for the opportunity.

	“I want to make sure you’ve got all the support you need.”

	I’ll make sure to reach out when I need it.

	“We’re looking forward to seeing what you do here.”

	Me too. I’ll make sure we do an excellent job..

It didn’t come with a raise.

title: First page or two of something I've recently started working on...

question: What does the story say about finding the perfect job?

question: What does the story say about the narrator's views on thinking?

answer: The narrator has been thinking a lot lately, and his conclusion is that thinking was clearly dangerous. He views thinking as an activity that should only be engaged under duress or when absolutely necessary. He wondered why people were attracted to thinking because it didn't get him anywhere. The narrator feels that all thinking ever seemed to do was confuse him.

question: What does the story say about why the narrator's train ride?

answer: The narrator was riding a metro car in Washington D.C. It was full of frowning people who grind away at jobs they don't believe in. He saw his reflection and realized that he was frowning, too. The narrator didn't go down his scheduled stop and rode the train to the end station until it was no longer in service. The narrator fell asleep and dreamed about an auburn-haired woman he was chasing and inexplicably woke up somewhere in the train yard, his computer bag covered in filth. The narrator seemed confused and lacked the vocabulary to explain the things he was seeing. After several hours of wandering, he finally took a cab home.

question: What does the story say about the narrator?

answer: The narrator's last name is Barron. He seems like a lonely guy who works a dead-end job. Barron is also an alcoholic and has a pretty regimented diet and workout routine. When he's not drinking or working out, he's at work.


text:
	He wasn't quite sure if he could still call himself a magician. He didn't really feel all that magical. Yet here Jack was, sitting on his bed, trying to pull something out of his hat.
	He had gotten the hat when he was a kid. He used to do all sorts of magic. Not particularly GOOD magic, but it was magic. As he got older though he became more and more self conscious of his mystical little hobby. Not that any one made fun of him for it, in fact he got a lot of praise for his magic tricks. He just decided that there were more practical uses of his time. But for some reason, today he really wanted to pull a rabbit out of thin air.
        He stuck his hand in and felt nothing. He was rusty.
	Jack thought back to his first performance at the 5th grade talent show. The crowd was amazed- or so he had thought. It wasn't until watching his mothers video tape of the performance years later that he realized that 'Jack the Magnificent' was only 'Jack the Pretty Good for an 11-year-old'. His biggest trick, a levitation spell, could only get him three feet off the ground. More adorable then magnificent.
	Tired of being patronized by his family and friends he sold most of his magical treasures in high school. The faberge dragon's egg he got from his dead grandmother brought in enough for him to get a car. 'The Mysterious Mittens of Midas' (an 8th birthday present that stopped working years ago) helped him rent a tux for prom. He decided to just give 'The False Pharaoh's Sarcophagus of Sacrilege' to the children's museum. The thing was so big he was just happy to get rid of it. They were pretty irritated when they found out it was cursed but come on- just look at it's name. It shouldn't have taken 2 possessions for them to figure out what was up. The only items that he decided to keep were the hat and a jar that held the first pixie he ever summoned. He had kept them for mostly for sentimental reasons (they were also the easiest to fit in the closet). But the pixie had escaped at some point, but Jack's Mom swore it was still in the house somewhere.
	His parents had been pretty supportive of the whole "I want to be a mystical conduit" thing when he was a kid, but then again they were pretty supportive of everything he did. He was currently a manager at local department store, and Mom and Dad just seemed happy that he capable of taking care of himself. The job payed pretty well and he was proud of working his way up from a cashier position. His hobby had actually proved to be of some help in getting him there: When a couple boxes from a shipment had gone missing Jack used an enchanted tome he found on eBay (either 'Jupiter's Judgment' or 'Issitoq's Intuition'- he couldn't remember what it was called now) to find that the boxes had fallen behind one the shelves in the back. Corporate was so impressed they decided to give him the assistant manager's job after they quit to go work at iHop.
	Jack was pretty content, but he was also pretty bored. Maybe that's why he was spending his one day off this week trying to pull a rabbit out this old hat.
 	He started trying to remember why he had wanted to become a magician: To understand the unknown? To create that which didn't yet exist and command powers capable of altering the very fabric of the universe? Probably the same reasons any kid wanted to be a magician. As a boy he had dreamed of being one of the greats, a mighty sorcerer capable of changing the world. However, as he got older he realized that there was a much higher chance that he would fail and just become another wizard living at home with his parents. So he decide to just alter his dreams. Instead of conquering the mysteries of the world, he decided he could still be happy with having a good retirement plan.
	And he was happy. He had security, which was more then a lot of people had in the current economy. And being magician was risky- dangerous even. A couple of friends back in his hometown were still trying to make it big- one had accidentally caught his dad's yard on fire trying to deal with a squirrel problem and another had recently grown a permanent third eye (good luck with any future job interviews with that thing on your forehead). So why was he sitting here, wasting his Saturday trying to make something out of nothing?
	Maybe it was because, after graduating and leaving home, he wasn't feeling so special anymore. He wasn't the center of his parents world, he wasn't the center or anyone's world. He had a lot responsibility at work but he was easily replaceable. He was started to get frustrated, he had been digging around this hat for about ten minutes now and he hadn't been able to find anything. What was he trying to accomplish here? It's not like a rabbit was going to make him feel any better any way.
	But then Jack started doing something he hadn't done in quite some time: he started to wonder. What if there wasn't a rabbit in this hat?
        What if it was something else entirely?
	What if there was an ancient vessel inside, a home for a forgotten god? What if it was a vial containing a serum that made people forget their middle name? What if instead of a rabbit he pulled out a flower that smelled like hellfire?  Or what if inside this old hat was an even older hat that when worn would transform him into someone that wasn't afraid of asking out Sarah at work?
	He pulled his hand out of the hat and hesitated. He hadn't properly considered the possibilities, something horrible could happen.

        Or something amazing.

	He paused. Then, trying not think, he stuck his hand into the hat reaching as far as he could. The brim of the hat met his shoulder and he finally got a hold of what was in the hat

        He grabbed it tightly, pulled it out, and turned the nothing into a something.

title: The Not-So-Magnificent

question: Which parts of the story reflect its genre?

answer: The genre of magical realism can be determined from the set-up of a normal world that resembles the reader's reality, including elements like eBay and iHop, which is then accompanied by casual references to magical events and entities that do not exist outside fiction. 'Magic' is at first implied to be illusionist tricks but is revealed to be genuinely otherworldly. It is presented as normal and common knowledge within the story, making it a magical realism subset of the fantasy genre.

question: How does Jack's attitude toward magic change through the story?

answer: Jack's childhood enthusiasm for magic tricks lessens as he grows up and turns his focus to establishing a more practical life. Seeing his friends fail to find success as professional magicians, he is satisfied with the safe life in retail that he has chosen for himself. However, he ends up feeling unfulfilled personally and decides to try magic again, to see if it can bring some excitement into his life.

question: What does the story say about the most successful magician in the world?

question: What does the story say about Jack's friends?

answer: Growing up, Jack's friends generally supported him, if not truly believing in him, as a magician. Some of them tried to make it big as magicians themselves, but met only with calamity. It isn't mentioned if he has regular friends in his current life.


text:
[The Stagg Tree, fifth largest tree in the world by board feet] ALDER CREEK GROVE is a giant sequoia grove located both on private land and within the Giant Sequoia National Monument in the western Sierra Nevada of California.[1] The grove is spread out over approximately of land and contains 483 giant sequoias that are at least 25.5 feet in diameter, including the Stagg Tree, the 5th largest tree in the world and one of the oldest known living giant sequoias. Though on private land, the Rouch family made part of their land accessible to the public.[2][3]

History

In 1946, much of Alder Creek Grove was purchased by the Rouch family to be logged and developed. The grove was logged in the late 1940s and early 1950s. However, doing so proved to be uneconomical due to the brittle nature of giant sequoia wood, and the regret the family felt logging them. Though about two dozen giant sequoias were cut down, no especially large or old giant sequoias were harmed.[4]

A 236-lot subdivision of mostly summer cabins, called Sequoia Crest, was built next to the grove around the same time so people could visit the Stagg Tree and some of the surrounding giant sequoias. A short-lived ski resort was also established to make the land more profitable for the Rouch family.[5]

On September 17, 2019, the Save the Redwoods League announced it had agreed to pay the Rouch family $15.6 million by December 31 to formally protect the giant sequoias growing on their land, including the Stagg Tree. Once the deal is finalized, the League plans to spend another $4.75 million on ecosystem studies and restoration work before handing the grove over to the U.S. Forest Service to be incorporated into Giant Sequoia National Monument. It will then become the largest giant sequoia on land managed by the U.S. Forest Service, edging out the Boole Tree of Converse Basin Grove, the current largest on forest service land.[6]

On December 31st, 2019 the Alder Creek Sequoia Grove was saved. Over 8,500 donors from all US States and all major continents minus Antarctica donated the 15.6 million dollars through Save the Redwoods League. These funds were raised in a space of less than 6 months. Save the Redwoods League plans to retain the Alder Creek property for a period of 5-10 years. During this time restoration, thinning (not thinning sequoias), and fire will help restore landscape features in this unique sequoia grove. Once complete the Alder Creek property will be transferred to the US Forest Service for inclusion into the Giant Sequoia National Monument.

Description

Alder Creek Grove is remarkably diverse, being made up of trees of many different ages and sizes, from seedlings to 3,000-year-old giants. There are also mature stands of red fir, white fir, ponderosa pine, and sugar pine trees mixed in amongst the giant sequoias. The grove is also home to several meadows, wetlands, and lush riparian woodlands.[7]

Noteworthy trees

[Trailer in Alder Creek Grove close to two giant sequoias]

-   STAGG: the fifth largest giant sequoia in the world with a volume of . The tree was discovered in 1960 and named after Amos Alonzo Stagg, an American athlete and college coach in multiple sports. The tree is located on private property, but anyone is allowed to visit the tree if they park where signed and walk the trail to the tree.[8]
-   WATERFALL: a giant sequoia with the largest ground perimeter of any living giant sequoia, measuring . The immense basal buttress of the tree supports it as it grows along the steep southern bank of South Alder Creek. It tapers dramatically from the ground up, and has a height of approximately .[9]
-   WINDOW: a giant sequoia which features a large “window” that was formed when the tree was weakened by disease and later struck by lightning.[10]

[1]

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title: Alder Creek Grove

question: What does the text say about the largest oak tree in the world?

question: What does the text say about The Stagg Tree?

answer: The Stagg Tree is the fifth largest and one of the oldest known giant sequoia trees in the world by board feet. The tree was discovered in 1960 and named after Amos Alonzo Stagg, an American athlete and college coach in multiple sports. The Stagg Tree is located on Alder Creek Grove, a giant sequoia grove located both on private property and within the Giant Sequoia National Monument in the western Sierra Nevada of California. Despite being on private land, anyone is allowed to visit the Stagg Tree as long as they park where signed and walk the trail to the tree.

question: What does the text say about the Rouch Family?

answer: The Rouch family purchased much of Alder Creek Grove in 1946 to be logged and developed. The grove was logged in the late 1940s and early 1950s. However, the brittle nature of giant sequoia wood made logging uneconomical and the Rouch family regretted logging them. The family put up a ski resort instead, but it was short-lived. They were paid $15.6 million by the Save the Redwoods League in 2019 to formally protect the giant sequoias growing on their land, including the Stagg Tree. The Rouch family made part of their land accessible to the public.

question: What does the text say about Alder Creek Grove?

answer: Alder Creek Grove is a giant sequoia grove located both on private land and within the Giant Sequoia National Monument (under the US Forest Service) in the western Sierra Nevada of California. The grove houses 483 giant sequoias that are at least 25.5 feet in diameter, including the Stagg Tree. Much of Alder Creek Grove was purchased by the Rouch family in 1946, but they have made part of their land accessible so the public can see the giant sequoias up close. On December 31st, 2019, worldwide donations raised by the Save the Redwoods League were used to pay the Rouch family to formally protect the giant sequoias growing on their land, thus saving Alder Creek Grove. The grove is diverse, made up of giant sequoias of many different ages and sizes, as well as other species like red fir, white fir, ponderosa pine, and sugar pine trees. Alder Creek Grove is also home to several meadows, lush riparian woodlands, and wetlands.


text:
   My footsteps echoed across the bare room. The white walls were lined with dirt and grime, leaving me to wonder how a room that lacked walls and windows, could become the dirty, eery looking room that stands before me. I turned my head to the right, and notice a single mirror leaning against the wall at such an angle that I could see my being staring back at me. My red hair was slightly frayed, with the area surrounding the brim of my forehead pointing towards the ceiling as it always does. My face, freckled but strong handsome, had a layer of dust on it as if I had been abandoned in an abandoned room for days. My blue and black flannel shirt drew itself across my torso, and was rolled up at the sleeves. The white undershirt lie matted against my skin, wet with sweat. My blue jeans looked as though I had been rolled around in the dirt for hours, as did my boots. I have always been physically fit, with naturally dense muscle, but I was always too lazy to work-out so I never had the body of Zeus, but still I was well-built.

   As I turned to look away from the mirror, it seemed as though my reflection continued to stare at me, un-phased and unchanged. My gaze returned to my reflection, which was following my every move once again. I must have been imagining it, I thought to myself as I turned to walk around the room.

   I approached the wall on my left and noticed something that I hadn't seen before. Dirty handprints lie sprawled against the wall, from the ceiling to the wood floors. Grimy footprints faced the wall, and as I crouched down to examine them, another footprint appeared, facing the opposite direction. Surprised, I fell back onto my rear as another print appeared about a stride's length from the other. I stood quickly and followed the footsteps as they traversed to the center of the room, then turned to face the mirror, momentarily resting before finishing its trek towards the reflective glass. When the footprints reached the mirror, I glanced up at my reflection, to try and determine exactly what had just happened.

   My eye caught a movement at the bottom of the mirror, the footprint had made another move. The heel of the print was stamped into the ground just before the mirror, but the other half... the other half continued into the mirror, as if it never existed. It travelled across the floor being reflected by the mirror. I almost wanted to attempt to go test to see if it was stable myself...

  "It's as real as you are." My voice entered my ears, but they did not exit through my lips, where could it be coming from... I looked up to see my reflection staring at me. His lips moved freely as he used my voice. "This world is filled with wonders. Even some you can't explain. Sometimes, you just need to take a leap of faith, and see what comes of it. After all, the brave don't live forever, but the cautious don't live at all."

   My hand reached out to touch the glass, but as my fingers touched the reflective surface, my hand passed through it, the reflection rippling as if it were a liquid. I took a step through into this mirrored world. I took a step into this new world, and walked across the identical room. I turned towards my reflection, but he wasn't there, not even in the world I came from. I felt the world begin to shake, and a deafening sound of laughter filled my ears. The violent quake caused me to topple over, and my body hit the ground...

My eyes bolted open to see three of my friends standing above me with a can of shaving creme in on of their hands. I felt the creme slide off my face. "Really guys?" was all I could say after that dream. "Ah come on, you know we love you," my bestfriend Michael said with a smirk. "Yea you better love me," I retorted as I wiped the shaving creme off of my face and threw it at him.

title: Opening to a story i thought up the other day. Open to criticism.

question: What is the twist in the story?

answer: It is all a dream.

question: What is the mirror the narrator thinks he is touching in the dream in reality?

answer: A bunch of shaving cream.

question: What does the narrator dream he is doing?

answer: Going through a mirror.

question: What did the narrator do when he woke up?

answer: Threw the shaving cream at his friends.

question: Write a ~1 sentence summary.

answer: A young man has a dream of wonders but when he wakes up finds his friends had rubbed shaving cream on his face.


text:
Starcraft: Marine

I hate the drops. Drops were the worst. The idea behind performing these “tactical insertion operations” is to “selectively disrupt enemy production capability” but most of us jarheads just think of it as a bug stomp. We drop in near a bug hive and kill everything we see, preferably, while the main swarm is off fighting something else, than jump out. Word from intel said that the main swarm was on the move to southern ridge of our base. They had already eaten their way through Camp Eagle and Camp Limley here on Typhon and were itching for a third meal and, since we were the last remnants of Limley, we were tagged with the “opportunity” as Lt. Korvic calls it. So here we were in the APOD-33, me and seven of my buddies jammed in tighter than a porn stars cooze at a gang bang. The only thing that could make it better would be if a flock of Muta’s showed up while we were flying over the canyons. They look like worms with wings, worms that shoot bug bullets out of there asses. I’ve seen these bullets, these “glaive worms” as the brain boys like to call them, make swiss cheese out of the AAV-5 tanks so I could only imagine what they’d do to the APOD. Korvic would love that. I’d probably enjoy it to just to see Korvic’s face as we go down in her precious ship. Bitch. I can’t rag on her though; she keeps the boys alive and is our ride out of here should the shit hit the fan.

Dawn is hitting the eastern side of the ship. Drop time is coming up soon. I bark the command to perform pre-drop prep. Each of my guys reads out the HUD on their medical conditions then they start their own suit diagnostics followed by weapons checks. All of this information is relayed back to my suit which I pass on to Korvic. This was all done prior to loading up but you can never be too sure. I amble my way up to the bow and glance at the windows. It looked completely bright outside but I knew that it really wasn’t. I don’t understand the whole technology behind it but it had something to do with the ships sensors and VR displays or some nonsense.  I could see the hive in the distance, once I focused on it my HUD began restating our mission objectives and highlighting key spots to target. I still haven’t gotten used to seeing these things even after three years in the corps, which, considering the life span of a marine is a long time. A skyscraper made of bruised flesh and bone, once the ship optics focused in you could see that it was crawling with the worm larva. The Intel geeks say that the larvas are “genetically versatile” which meant that they could become almost anything in the swarm, if the right conditions were met. I reminded Korvic to scan the area for any of the growths in the area as a result of those conditions. They say that the growths are similar to tumor. Once the Zerg get wind of opposition around there turf they immediately make some kind of virus which infects one of there worker bugs.  Once the worker bug is ready it becomes a growth feeding off their creep and other shit around the area. The tumor forces the larva to become bigger, badder bugs. They say it’s some kind of “immunal response” from the hive like how white blood cells attack infections in the human body. I don't pretend to understand it, all I know is that blowing up the tumor buildings, yeah buildings, stops them from making meaner bugs. At the base of the hive were cocoons, which lord only knows what was growing inside of them. With my luck it'd be Ultras, big, fanged and armored bastards that could tear through ten marines in a single swipe. Korvic didn't scan any radioactive deposits in the area but I wouldn't rule them out either. The Ultras eat rad deposits or some shit like that and is a strong sign that Ultras might be nearby. West of the hive was our target area, the mineral mines.

Korvic’s telling me that conditions look good. We managed to avoid the max range of there Overlords, the bug eyes in the sky, and the ones hovering near our dropzone were dispatched by Vike’s on an earlier skirmish. SATCOM says Zerg hadn’t had time to replenish their number in this area with the exception of a few hundred drones.  We would be going in undetected to the mines and kill all the drones, no drones no minerals. No minerals no bugs. Simple. I shout at my crew, not that it’s necessary, the audio in our armor can filter out the background noise of the ship, but to get them pissed and ready. I remind them what the bugs have done to us, how they are eating everything they see and that they want to be the toughest sons of bitches in the universe. I remind them that once they hit the four year mark they’ll be pardoned and that all the pussy in the universe will love them and thank them for their service. I see glassy eyes and hear grunts and howls. I can tell Korvic’s pinged there suits for stims. We descend very suddenly, then immediately slow, the APOD is in its vertical take-off state. Korvic and the pilot hit it just right; we are only 10 meters above our DZ. I hear a small compressed whine within my suit. Korvic’s started my stims. As the ramp opens I can see the men stand, helmets closing on their faces, almost foaming at the mouth as the stims take effect. The dawn light hits us and I remember how I came to the corps, how I killed all of those people and that I’m only a year away from my pardon. Why would I want to leave? I can’t give this up. I don't even need the stims to kill. I sight in on the helpless worker bugs, pull the trigger and smile.

title: Starcraft: Marine

question: What is the narrator's mission?

answer: His mission is to drop in near a bug hive and kill everything he and his crew see.

question: What is the significance of the mission?

answer: It is important to destroy the bugs because they are dangerous. They are eating everything they see and want to be the toughest creatures in the universe.

question: Why does the narrator shout at his crew?

answer: Because he wants to get them pissed and ready.

question: Why does the crew kill drones?

answer: Probably because the bugs eat them.

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer: The narrator and seven of his buddies are on a mission. They need to kill bugs because they are dangerous and want to be the toughest creatures in the universe. The crew members are going to drop in near a bug hive, kill everything they see.


text:
Written in collaboration with redditor jsutton96

As Johnathan walked into the room he took a deep breath. The stench of bourbon burned his nostrils, Brad was drunk again. Sitting in his old chair with drink in hand, eyes lined with crust from days of not bathing, and glass tipped lazily in his hand. After a few long seconds of just staring Brad threw the glass it shattered across mantle of the fireplace like a rain drop on a windshield. Johnathan stood silent frozen with shock at Brad's sudden outburst. Brad yelled for the kids to come clean up the mess. He yelled for a good while. His eyes filled with despair as he then realized why the kids had not come down yet. Years of abusive behavior had caused the kids to be taken away from the house by child protective services. They were now in the same foster home Brad himself had grown up in. He knew that their lives would not be much better there as it was at home. The place was run down with a leaky roof and chipping paint. Brad looked at Johnathan who was still standing in the same spot, and told him to make him a sammich. Johnathan did not move. Brad got up and said it again this time louder. Johnathan still did not move. Brad then got in Johnathan's face and yelled even louder causing to back up a few inches. Johnathan then looked in Brad's eyes and said "Brad we're out of bread". Brad then proceeded to sit back down in the chair. Johnathan left the room to go pack his bags, he was going to stay with his sister for awhile who was now the worlds youngest lawyer starting her own office at the age of 5. Brad sat there unmoving only to get up to use the bathroom which was an old urn. He shot himself a week later. (Moral of the story never run out of bread)

title: r/funny didn't approve, maybe you guys will

question: Is there any humor of some kind in this story?

answer: It is hard to find any.

question: How come Brad forgot his children are not in the house?

answer: He probably forgot because he was drunk.


text:
KIEV/BEIRUT (Reuters) - Turkey on Monday accused Russia of an “obvious war crime” after missile attacks in northern Syria killed scores of people, and warned Kurdish militia fighters there they would face the “harshest reaction” if they tried to capture a town near the Turkish border.

People gather near what is said to be a hospital damaged by missile attacks in Azaz, Aleppo, Syria, February 15, 2016 in this still image taken from a video on a social media website. REUTERS/Social Media Website via Reuters TV

An offensive supported by Russian bombing and Iranian-backed Shi’ite militias has brought the Syrian army to within 25 km (15 miles) of Turkey’s frontier. The Kurdish YPG militia - which Turkey regards as a hostile insurgent force - has exploited the situation, seizing ground from Syrian rebels to extend its presence along the border.

Almost 50 civilians were killed when missiles hit at least five medical facilities and two schools in rebel-held areas of Syria on Monday, according to the United Nations, which called the attacks a blatant violation of international law.

At least 14 were killed in the northern town of Azaz, the last rebel stronghold before the border with Turkey, when missiles hit a children’s hospital and a school sheltering refugees, a medic and two residents said. Missiles also hit a hospital in the town of Marat Numan in the province of Idlib, south of Aleppo.

Turkish Prime Minister Ahmet Davutoglu said a Russian missile had hit the buildings and that many civilians including children had been killed. Turkey’s foreign ministry accused Russia of carrying out an “obvious war crime.”

But Russian Health Minister Veronika Skvortsova said Russian air strikes were targeting Islamic State infrastructure and she had no reason to believe that Russian planes had bombed civilian sites in Idlib.

“We are confident that (there is) no way could it be done by our defense forces. This contradicts our ideology,” she said in Geneva. Syria’s ambassador to Russia said U.S. war planes were responsible.

White House national security adviser Susan Rice on Monday condemned in the “strongest terms” the intensified bombing of northern Syria, adding that it ran counter to commitments to reduce hostilities made by major powers last week in Munich.

The Syrian civil war, reshaped by Russia’s intervention last September, has gone into an even higher gear since the United Nations sought to revive peace talks. The talks in Geneva were suspended earlier this month before they got off the ground.

World powers agreed in Munich on Friday to a cessation of hostilities in Syria to allow humanitarian aid to be delivered, but the deal does not take effect until the end of this week and was not signed by any warring parties.

Turkey shelled YPG positions for a third straight day on Monday to try to stop its fighters seizing Azaz, just 8 km from the border. Ankara fears the Kurdish militia, backed by Russia, is trying to secure the last stretch of around 100 km along the Syrian border not already under its control.

“We will not allow Azaz to fall,” Davutoglu told reporters on his plane on the way to Ukraine. “If they approach again they will see the harshest reaction,” he said.

The standoff has increased the risk of direct confrontation between Russia and NATO member Turkey.

U.N ENVOY IN DAMASCUS

U.N. Syria envoy Staffan de Mistura made a surprise visit to Damascus on Monday and will hold talks with Syria’s foreign minister on Tuesday, a Syrian government official told Reuters. A senior UN official later confirmed that de Mistura had arrived in Syria for an unscheduled visit to “follow up on commitments made in Munich.”

But in a further clouding of the Munich deal, Syrian President Bashar al-Assad said on Monday that any ceasefire did not mean each side had to stop using weapons, and that nobody was capable of securing the conditions for one within a week.

At a news conference in Kiev, Turkey’s prime minister doubted Russia’s commitment to any deal to cease hostilities, pointing to comments from Moscow that it would continue its air strikes regardless.

“They want to have just two options in front of the international community: Daesh or Assad,” Davutoglu said, using an Arabic acronym for Islamic State.

Turkey is enraged by the expansion of Kurdish influence in northern Syria, fearing it will encourage separatist ambitions among its own restive Kurds. Ankara considers the YPG a terrorist group.

Davutoglu said Turkey would make the Menagh air base north of the city of Aleppo “unusable” if the YPG, which seized it over the weekend from Syrian insurgents, did not withdraw.

Turkish Defense Minister Ismet Yilmaz said Ankara was not considering sending troops to Syria, according to the state-run Anadolu Agency.

Syria’s rebels, some backed by the United States, Turkey and their allies, say the YPG is fighting with the Syrian military and its backers - including Russia - against them in the five-year-old civil war. The YPG denies this.

South of Azaz, the Kurdish-backed Syria Democratic Forces (SDF) alliance, of which the YPG is a member, took around 70 percent of the town of Tal Rifaat, according to the Syrian Observatory, which monitors the war.

HOSPITALS HIT

Tens of thousands have fled to Azaz from towns and villages where there is heavy fighting between the Syrian army and militias.

“We have been moving scores of screaming children from the hospital,” said medic Juma Rahal, following the missile strikes. At least two children were killed and ambulances ferried scores of injured people to Turkey for treatment, he said.

French charity Médecins Sans Frontières (MSF) said seven people were killed and at least eight staff were missing after missiles hit a hospital in the province of Idlib, west of Aleppo, in a separate incident.

“The author of the strike is clearly ... either the government or Russia,” MSF president Mego Terzian said.

Additional reporting by Lisa Barrington in Beirut, Humeyra Pamuk in Istanbul, Tulay Karadeniz, Orhan Coskun and Ece Toksabay in Ankara, Stephanie Nebehay in Geneva, Jack Stubbs in Moscow; writing by Nick Tattersall and G Crosse; editing by David Dolan, Giles Elgood and Pravin Char

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question: What did Russia allegedly do to Syria?

answer: Send missile attacks.

question: How many are thought to have been killed?

answer: Almost 50 civilians.

question: What is enraging Turkey?

answer: The expansion of Kurdish influence in Northern Syria.

question: Which vulnerable area was hit very hard?

answer: Hospitals

question: Write a ~2 sentence summary.

answer: In Northern Syria, Turkish officials hold Russia responsible for a series of missile attacks on February 15, 2016, which some officials believe was a response to the UN's call for peace talks. Hospitals in particular were hit hard, with about 50 civilian fatalities in sum in Northern Syria.


text:
EXCLUSIVE: The breakout success of _Roseanne_ on ABC in the U.S. is inevitably interesting a raft of international buyers but a complicated global rights situation may slow down lucrative sales, Deadline understands. One prominent European broadcast buyer told me that the situation was a “nightmare” for buyers hot on the sitcom revival.

This comes after the premiere drew a massive audience earlier this week; the first two episodes secured 18.2M viewers and a 5.2 rating in adults 18-49, numbers not seen on broadcast TV in some time.

As I understand it, Disney Media Distribution, the international sales arm of the Hollywood studio, secured a first-window to close global sales deals on the comedy as a result of the show airing on Disney’s ABC. However, the distribution division, which is led outside of North America by the recently promoted sales chief Mark Endemaño, only has a one-year arrangement before the rights revert back to producer Carsey-Werner and its own sales division Carsey-Werner Distribution.

Related Story

'Roseanne' Revival's Huge Debut Stuns Hollywood, Prompts Soul-Searching

Disney confirmed to Deadline that it “has international distribution rights, for a one year term from U.S. broadcast”.

The deal is unusual in a number of ways; it’s very rare for a company the size of Carsey-Werner to retain international rights to such a high-profile broadcast series. However, the sitcom hit factory, which is led by Boston Red Sox and Liverpool Football Club Chairman Tom Werner, had historically retained the rights to the classic sitcom, fronted by Roseanne Barr and John Goodman and was integral to its return, rather than just being on board as a legacy executive producer credit. It’s also rare that international distribution would be shared between the sales division of a major Hollywood studio and the international arm of a producer.

It’s this arrangement that may mean _Roseanne_ does not make it out to international territories as fast as one would imagine given its domestic success. I spoke to a number of international buyers, who highlighted that the show had not been screened at last year’s LA Screenings or at Disney’s February screenings event in London. They also noted that when they made enquiries about the show, they were told it may not be as straightforward as other deals, particularly as it appears that it is heading for a second season pick-up. However, despite this, both Disney and Carsey-Werner have told buyers that the tricky situation doesn’t preclude licensing for the “usual terms”.

Many major UK and European broadcasters are still keen to discuss. The show aired on Channel 4 in the UK in the 1990s in a primetime slot and the reboot would certainly fit alongside its tranche of U.S. acquisitions on E4 such as _The Big Bang Theory_ and spin-off _Young Sheldon_. Given the scarcity of imported family sitcoms, it will also attract the interest of the likes of Sky, and Viacom’s Channel 5, which recently found success with _Will and Grace_, in the UK, which is one of the most lucrative markets for international shows.

In Europe, where U.S. comedies and dramas often still air in primetime, the show is also gaining attention from terrestrial linear broadcasters, particularly in markets such as Germany, where the original was hugely popular, and in Scandinavia. However, don’t discount the SVODs; Amazon just closed its first Europe-wide deal with Disney for The Crossing and Marvel’s _Cloak & Dagger_, and even Netflix, which despite its recent streaming rivalry with Disney, has, in the past taken shows such as _Once Upon A Time._

The rights may be complicated, but as broad-based hits become rarer and rarer, _Roseanne_ is likely to find its way out of America soon enough.

question: What is Roseanne?

answer: Roseanne is a sitcom.

question: How many viewers does Roseanne have?

answer: The first two episodes of Roseanne had around 18.2 Million views.

question: How long is Disney holding the rights for the show?

answer: Disney is holding the distribution rights of the show for a one-year term.

question: Is the show already aired?

answer: Yes, the show had already aired in the 1990s.

question: Write a ~5 sentence summary.

answer:
Roseanne, a sitcom airing on ABC in the U.S. The show is attracting a lot of international buyers, but a complicated global rights issue is slowing the process.

Disney supposedly has international distribution rights for only a year. Boston Red Sox and Liverpool FC Chairman, Tom Werner have retained the rights to this classic sitcom.

This whole arrangement may mean that Roseanne will not make it out to international territories as fast as other shows.


text:
Escaping the Dream
The boy is trapped by nightmares and darkness. He can't escape.

At sunset, he climbs into his bed and dreams of lies, pain and death...

The putrid stench of dying, rotting flesh. Why? Why is life so pitiful? The ground is littered with death. The skies weep, tossing down puddles of endless misery. The red lake grows larger.

I toss and turn, but I stay still, possessed by a living nightmare. Beads of sweat accumulate on my forehead. I'm drowning. The water... It never stops. Make it stop. Stop!

Quiet. In the distance. Are those people? ...Demons. Run.

I'm one of them. How could this be? How could this happen?

The screams, the blood, the terror, pulsing through the veins of a thousand sleeping warriors all armored and ready for war. They watch, frozen like statues as clouds of dark mist cascade on their helpless bodies.

A lake of blood.

Did it end? Is it over? The covers. They strangle me. I'm choking. Get it off! Stop it! Get away!

The dark mist. It won't leave.

I fly over the blood stained hills, the water reflecting the gruesome battle. I'm flying? What am I? What have I become?

Listen. The sounds of wounded men.
Somebody help them!
But there's no time to waste.

The door opens. A cloaked figure silently glides to the bedside of a troubled boy and whispers in the dead of night.

No audible words.

The ritual begins.

No... The end is near. The ritual...  is already over.

What happened?

The boy awakens. He sees a man in a robe on his bedside. The man is talking.

The boy asks the man, "What happened? I'm scared."

"Well, son, Satan tried to scare my little warrior tonight, but he won't win."

"How do you know that?"
The boy had no comprehension of Satan, but he was troubled by the name regardless.

"Because I happen to be your father. I'm here to protect you, son."

The boy, comforted by the robed man, slowly glided back underneath the covers as the robed man tucked him in.

The boy, once asleep, dreamt about a wonderful place. Beautiful, winged creatures soared effortlessly through silky skies, emitting light on their journeys. Magnificent buildings flooded the golden streets, and joyous praises could be heard throughout.

The boy, guided by instinct, found and opened the door to his house.

The robed man, waiting for him through the door, took the boy's hand and guided him through marble stairways, high arches, and intricately detailed furnished rooms.

The boy, curious by the unworldly beauty of the place, outstretched his hands and delicately glided his small fingers across the walls in awe of the mysterious texture.

When the boy had satisfied his curiosity, the robed man took the boy's hand once again and led him outside.

They walked through the streets, observing the peculiar yet beautiful creatures that endlessly fluttered around the robed man.

As they approached closer to one of the creatures, the boy could hear an angelic voice resonating loudly from its mouth.

The creature spoke of a wonderful king who conquered death and defeated sin, but the boy had never heard those words before. He had no ability to comprehend the story that was being told, but he enjoyed listening to the voice nonetheless.

His eyes teared up, and his vision blurred. He wasn't scared, however. His mind rattled with love, hope, peace, and joy, emotions he had never experienced before.

The emotions, beautiful creatures, the golden streets and the perfect climate. Paradise. How could one long for anything else?

The boy peacefully awoke at sunrise. He hopped enthusiastically to the window and opened the blinds. His eyes caught the first glimpse of the sunrise in the distance, and he felt happy.

His hands touched the cold window, and he made a shape of a cross with his finger out of the condensation on the glass. It was a symbol he had never seen before, yet he felt so attached to it.

He felt like he was dreaming...

But he had escaped.

title:
Escaping the Dream
- A short story/free-verse poem I created. Constructive criticism is appreciated! Just please don't go overboard on swearing.

question: What has trapped the boy?

answer: Nightmares and darkness, preventing him from escape.

question: Who is the robed man that comforted the boy?

answer: The boy's father

question: Explain how the boy was able to escape from being trapped by his own nightmares.

answer: His father came to protect him and comfort him in his sleep.

question: What happened after the boy was comforted and fell asleep once again?

answer: He dreamt of a wonderful place with beautiful creatures.

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer: The boy is trapped by his own nightmares and darkness, preventing him from escape. The boy's father comes to his side and comforts him, saying he is there for protection. When the boy falls asleep again he dreams of a wonderful place with beautiful creatures.


text:
It’s always sad when a young person is missing but when it involves a mother with two little children, it’s more than tragic.    From all appearances it would seem Sherri Papini had a wonderful life, good husband and two young children.  She went missing in broad daylight while jogging on the Oregon trail on November 2, right before she would have picked her children up from preschool.

Her husband Keith Papini took a lie detector test and has been cleared of any wrongdoing.  Using an iPhone app, he had found her mobile phone, headphones and a few strands of hair before reporting her missing.   The story has been featured on ABC News.

An online report tells of teens and young women who have been abducted in the Redding/Shasta County area.   Papini looked younger than her 34 years.  The long blond hair, pretty face, slight figure, etc. would make her perfect for type of people marijuana growers happen to victimize.

Following news reports from the area, the most logical conclusion is that she was abducted in connection to the marijuana industry and the sex trade that is rampant in Northern California.  Papini lived in was in Mountain Gate, at tiny town outside of Redding, Shasta County, an old logging area that has seen much violence in recent years as a result of the marijuana industry.

Since search crews have combed the Shasta County area, her family believes she is out of the region at this time.   It would not take much to bring her into the Emerald Triangle, of which Trinity County adjoins Shasta County.   Both Humboldt and Mendocino County would be logical places to look for her.

The abuse and sexual trade in the region has been reported by Reveal and Cosmopolitan.  Marijuana grows and sexual abuse hide easily in this heavily forested region.

There are only 177,000 people in Shasta County, but there were 220 missing persons reported last year.   Humboldt County had 352 people reported missing in 2015.  With only 134,000 people in the county, it has the highest rate of missing people in the state.

Although Shasta County is not part of the Emerald Triangle, it has a similar geographic and economic situation.  Shasta was formerly part of the logging industry which has been largely shutdown.  When an industry feeds the economy is no longer viable, residents must look for other ways to earn a living.  Too much of Northern California has been taken over by the marijuana growers who now supply 60% of the US marijuana market.

Let’s hope the Sherri Papini is found, and found alive and well and comes home to her family.   The family has set up a Facebook page and a reward.   (Above photo from Facebook)

Bursting the Bubble of Marijuana Hype

question: Where did Sherri Papini go missing?

answer: She went missing before she had to pick up her 2 kids from school. Her mobile phone was found on the Oregon Trail.

question: What is the link between marijuana growth and the disappearance of Sherri Papini?

answer: The article links the disappearance with the increase in marijuana growers in the area, although there is not evidentiary proof.

question: Why is the marijuana industry expanding in Northern California?

answer: The logging industry has been shut down in Northern California. People look to other sources of income. Marijuana growers in Northern California supply 60% of the US market.

question: What is the Emerald Triangle?

answer: It is unclear from the article, although it is stated that Shasta County, where Sherri Papini was abducted, has a similar geographic and economic situation.

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer: Sherri Papini went missing on the Oregon Trail before she was to pick her kids up from school. An increase in marijuana growers in the area leads the author to believe that they must have been responsible for her disappearance. Logging activities has largely been shut down in this county and marijuana production has taken its place.


text:
First post to reddit.  I'm no writer but wrote this for the fun a week ago.  I'd love some feedback.
*************************************

	With a crash and a flash and a bash and a smash: Two young males struggled into the small apartment.  The door slammed open and with a screeching dragged gravel across  the tile floor, before coming to a halt.  The two boys stumbled over the threshold, streetlight streaming in from behind them lighting up the entry in a dulled yellow half light and throwing shadows into the hallway and kitchen.  The boys rolled after these shadows, chasing them inside.

	The sudden crash and flash were alarming and the sudden commotion paralyzed the third guest in the house.  And as the shadows thrown by the streetlight faded, accompanied once more with the screeching tiles, this unwelcome guest slunk as far into the dark as it could.  Attempting to envelope himself in the darkness, but his quivering body had not much room to creep.  Only the meagre shelter allowed beneath the lip of a soup plate, the only refuge offered in this stainless pit, which was quickly becoming a dungeon.

	Stainless steel imbues a feeling of clean and modernity, extravagant kitchens stamped with the big names of interior designers.  This first assumption must be corrected.  For the house the two boys stumbled inside had a different feeling.  It was the house of four-boys, four twenty year old college boys, in an aging brick and plaster building of little portugal.  Furnished comfortably with all the loving care mothers and fathers have when their children grow up and go off to college.  But this current state of disarray is not how those parents left it.  The furniture was haphazardly rearranged, and fallen couch cushions crudely assembled circles around the beer stained dining and coffee tables.  And the impressive collection of empty cans and bottles, lay littered upon every horizontal surface.  Like common nicknacks, making the boys feel right at home.  All that was curious was the out of place modern sink, sticking out like a sore thumb beneath a cupboard hanging limply by its only remaining hinge.

	And it is in this sink, huddled under a soup plate with a rim stained by chilli sauce and beans, backed up onto a cold, empty, dented, metal beer can the third guest was hid.  The brief calm submitted once again to the boys clatter, as the concentration required to balance while removing shoes abated.  Their decisive pounding gait rekindled, and it brought these young giants across the scratched pinewood flooring onto the brown ceramic kitchen tile.  With foresight one wouldn't expect from the boys in their state, one of them stomped purposely towards the sink in search of a large glass of water, to help stave off the worst of tomorrow morning's inevitable ailments.  The second closed in on the kitchen as well and with a click, flicked on the light switch.

	The growing proximity of the broad shouldered boys in their denim dress shirts and scraggly unkempt beard hair had the hidden sink prisoner already on edge.  His silent quest for a midnight morsel had led him down into this hell hole.  And more and more the half nibbled Romano bean an inch from his whisker seemed a meagre prize to take such risks.  Fretting, regretting, and still quivering; the mouse lay still, without a squeak or a peep, cowering ever more tightly to the dented blue can.  But his nerves got the best of him.  And as the sudden blinding incandescent bulbs evaporated the moonlit apartment into the clear resolve of the twentieth century, it drew forth a characteristic squeak from the kitchen's midnight guest.  The boys had heard it, he had no doubt.  And the bright lighting reflecting from all angles exposed him inn his hiding place.  But the mouse did not wimpier and cower, the mouse's resolve for life redoubled, as if his mean squeak was instead a battle cry reverberating off the reflective walls.  His clandestine methods were immediately abandoned and with a scuttle (caused from the poor grip of claws on stainless steel) stormed into the flooded light of the sink basin.

	The squeak and the scuttle coming from the sink procured an uncharacteristic yelp from the boys in the kitchen, as the small noises caused the young men to flinch backwards.  An unlikely response for moments before they had been unfazed by their own cacophonous stomping.  And this frightened call only further pervaded the mouse with a sense of determination and zeal.  The walls were too tall to jump and the smooth steel only scratched as the mouse tried in vain to climb free from this damp pit.  But the mouse was not disheartened, and with a beady eye spotted and plotted his escape.  With the lightning reflex that had so frightened those brave rugged boys, the mouse scrabbled back to his soup plate.  But not into its shadow, triumphantly he climbed, clambering onto the porcelain rim and basking in the full glow of the electric bulbs.  His fervent goal--a wooden stirring spatula leaning upright on the edge of a small metal pot .  Cast into the sink after serving up the chilli, the utensil was now serving as a tool in the mouse's escape.  Serving up justice, for death is too high a price to pay for a nibble of a discarded Romano bean!

	His paws moved deftly over the spoon, hand over hand as he had finally found a proper surface for which to grip his claws.  The edge mere inches away, and past that the cluttered countertop with a neglected hole in the corner baseboard.  Any specialist of mouse facial expressions (a field of study beginning and ending outside of the human species) would've recognized the excitement and elation between our hero's whiskers.  But this did not last long, for while those few inches of sink basin, plate rim, soup pot, and spatula handle were being navigated the boys were reacting.  At first with laughter over his friend's feminine squeal, but then with a new found home owners responsibility.  With malice in his eye the young man closed the gap to the sink, the metallic scratches had given way to subtler noises as the mouse had found his way onto the spatula.

	The mouse ran quickly, but was not fast enough, and with a look of dread watched as the boys bony knuckles barred his freedom, by grasping the end of the spatula.  The boy flicked and shook the it, and it was too much, the spatula was wrenched free from the mouse's desperate grasp, and he was thrown up into the air.

	The specialist in mouse facial expression would've definitively noted this new expression as a look of dread.  Utter terror spanned from his eyes to his whiskers to his tiny mouth, as he fell backwards, once more into his stainless steel prison.  Legs shot out in all directions, while his tail squirmed.  But there was nothing to grasp but thin air, and the sobering realization that he may not make it back to his hole tonight.

	With a soft thud he landed hard on his back on the cold damp steel.  The once prized Romano bean lay beside him, taunting him.  A sad reward to have forfeited so much for.  After the mouse came the spatula, coming down quickly as the boy swung the blade after his foe.  With a smash and a squelch the end of the spatula came down over the mouse, and the boys paused for a moment.  Curiosity got the best of them and as they both crowded around the sink they peeled back the spatula and peaked underneath.  The boys wrinkled their noses in disgust.  With nothing but contempt they threw the mouse into a plastic bag and then the trash.  With only feelings of disgust and disdain, they laid the mouse to rest.  Upset, because having to clean up the guts of a mouse is too high a price to pay for leaving a few dishes in the sink.

title: Mouse Hunt

question: How would the story have played out differently if the boys had washed the dishes right away instead of leaving them in the sink?

answer: The mouse would never have ventured into the sink to feed and might not have wound up dead at the end of the story.

question: What is the "blade" the boy wields at the end of the story?

answer: The blade is simply referring to the spatula--it is a figurative blade.


text:
[Western facade of the mausoleum]

The TOURBET EL BEY () is a Tunisian royal mausoleum in the southwest of the medina of Tunis at rue Tourbet el Bey 62.[1]

It is the last resting place of most of the Husainid dynasty rulers of Tunisia. Among those not buried there are the last two - Moncef Bey, who is buried in the Jellaz Cemetery and Lamine Bey who is buried in La Marsa. The building, constructed in the reign of Ali II ibn Hussein (1759-1782)[2][3] is the largest funerary monument in Tunis.[4] The first tourba of Al-Husayn I ibn Ali stands opposite it.

Royal mausoleum

The building is topped with domes, the main ones covered with green tortoiseshell-shaped tiles, and the facades are of ochre sandstone, decorated at regular intervals by pilasters and Italian-style entablatures in light-coloured stone.[5][6] They correspond with the different funerary chambers inside which house the tombs of the ruling family and their wives, as well as of a number of their ministers and servants.[7][8] The tombs, dug into the ground, are covered with marble chests ornamented in bas relief. The sarcophagi of the men have regularly-shaped columns bearing inscriptions, topped with a fez or a turban. Those of the women have marble plaques at each end, one of which carries an inscription.

Image:SalleSouverainsTourbetElBeyTunis 1.JPG|Funerary chamber of the Husainid beys Image:Plan Tourbet El Bey-fr.svg|Plan of the funerary chamber Image:Tourbet dignitaires.JPG|Chamber containting tombs of dignitaries Image:Tourbet tombe.JPG|Detail of a dignitary's tomb Image:Tombes femmes 1.JPG|Chamber containing women's tombs Image:Tourbet tombe detail.JPG|Detail of a woman's tomb

Architecture and interior decoration

The monument is entered through a large hall which shows a distinct Italian influence in its decoration, mixed with Ottoman style, notably in the chamber of the beys. The mausoleum, which comprises eight funerary chambers covered with cupolas,[9][10] is built around two patios. These are covered in slabs, and surrounded by porticos which rest on pillars of Carrara marble with neo-doric capitals. These patios open, on each side, into a funerary chamber. Some of these chambers are also linked directly to each other.

[Walls in one chamber of the mausoleum displaying a combination of ceramic tiles with finely sculpted plaster]

The south-west side opens into the chamber of the Beys,[11] the most important chamber in the complex, housing the tombs of thirteen reigning Beys.[12] The chamber is square, with walls fifteen metres long, and it replicates the proportions of an Ottoman mosque: four large cruciform pillars support a large central cupola which is slightly bulbous in form and flanked by four demi-cupolas on the sides and four in the corners. The only other building with this form in the medina of Tunis is the Sidi Mahrez mosque.[13][14] The intricate decoration of the room blends Italian, Ottoman and local influences; the lower parts of the walls and the pillars are covered in panels of polychrome marble marquetry to a height of 2.5 metres, while finely-sculpted plaster lines the caps of the cupolas.[15]

The ceilings of the mausoleum, either vaults or cupolas, are ornamented with stucco in geometric or plant designs. Some of these are polychrome, with the richness of the colours denoting the rank of the people buried in the chamber. One in particular is surprising in its architectural form - a large oval cupola. The walls are generally covered with ceramic tiles in orange and yellow hues, some of which were imported from Italy, particularly from Naples, while others are of local manufacture, from the Qallaline workshops.[16] The chamber of the reigning Beys is the only one richly decorated with polychrome marble in the Italian style.

Image:Tunisia559.jpg|Main entrance Image:Tunisia570.jpg|Outside view Image:Tourbet cour 2.JPG|Main courtyard Image:Tourbet beys 3.JPG|Cupola chamber of the beys Image:Tourbet coupole.JPG|Detail of a cupola with stucco motifs and green highlights Image:Tourbet plafond.JPG|Oval ceiling

Conservation

[Plaque of the National Heritage Institute and plaque to commemorate the restoration undertaken 1964-1968] For around thirty years the tourbet was abandoned and even partly squatted for a time and its roof structures and rich decorations deteriorated.[17] In the 1990s the National Heritage Institute (INP) began restoration work and opened a ticket office to allow visitors.[18] Nevertheless, it seems that the upkeep of the building continues to leave much to be desired.[19] Care of this monument depends ultimately on the Tunisian Culture Ministry through the National Heritage Institute and the Agency for the Development of National Heritage and Cultural Promotion.[20]

[1] Tourbet El Bey (Qantara)

[2] Georges Pillement, _La Tunisie inconnue_, ed. Albin Michel, Paris, 1972, p.66

[3]

[4] Adel Latrech, « Promenade dans les tourbas de Tunis », _La Presse de Tunisie_, 28 août 2010

[5]

[6] Prosper Ricard, _Pour comprendre l'art musulman dans l'Afrique du Nord et en Espagne_, ed. Hachette, Paris, 1924, p.218

[7]

[8]

[9]

[10]

[11]

[12]

[13]

[14]

[15]

[16]

[17] Tahar Ayachi, « Agir pour Tourbet El Bey », _La Presse de Tunisie_, 22 septembre 2008

[18]

[19]

[20] Tahar Ayachi, « Tourbet el Bey (encore une fois !) », _La Presse de Tunisie_, 29 septembre 2008

title: Tourbet el Bey

question: What is the Tourbet El Bey?

answer: A mausoleum.

question: Where is it located?

answer: Tunisia.

question: Who rests there?

answer: Most of the Husaninid dynasty rulers of Tunisia.

question: Which two rulers are not buried there?

answer: Moncef Bey and Lamine Bey.

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer: Tourbet el Bey is a Tunisian royal mausoleum. Most of the Husainid dynasty rulers of Tunisia are buried there, with the exception of Moncef Bey and Lamine Bey. The building was first constructed in the reign of Ali Il ibn Hussein (1759-1782) and is the largest funerary monument in Tunis.


text:
                            Wicker Basket Warriors
In the year of 1812, there was a man floating down the Swiggle river in the fall.  He noticed a man on the bank who was picking leaves outta of the water with his tooth.  The guy floating down the river was floating in a one man canoe.  His name was Buck Chunker, a man of remarkable power.  Nomes Chomper was the name of  the guy picking the leaves out of the water with his one tooth.  They aired high fived to each other with great ambition.
“What are you doing out here Nomes Chomper?” asked Buck Chunker.  “Imma tryin’ to tickle mah gums!”, said Nomes Chomper.  “Daggum, that seems mighty difficult to do with one toof!”  Stated Buck.“ You making  fun of the way I talk?”  As one leaf was dangling from Nomes Chomper face.  “It seemed harder than two icicles in a snow storm” exclaimed Buck Chunker.  “It aint too bad Buck, you just have to hook it with your special toof!”.  “Speakin of which whattana, whattana, whattana, whattana…. “ Nomes began to stutter and starting pointing off into the distance. After breaking his stutter he exclaims, “Whattana, Whattana, you seem offly lonely in that one man canoe”.   “Whooyeee  that is all ye can fit in a one man canoe, Nomes.  I been fishin for unicorn fish, the wonderbread fish!” belched Chunker.  As Buck was saying that, a strange noise came from a tree.
As a tree branch snapped you could see the  silhouette of a man falling down and screaming “sweet gypsy kite” as the man splashed into the river.  The way he entered the water caused such a loud rockous twelve trees became dragons and flew off. The bellowing of the splash caused Buck and Nomes to fear cannon fire.  Nomes reached for a pebble and places it on his head.  Nomes special ability was camouflage, as he could use nature to hide from any danger. They had  feared the sound of cannon fire because a battle had recently just broke out between the Americans and the Red Coats at Slip Dizzy Rock.
Buck looked over to where he last seen Nomes and he was very perplexed that the man that was standing there had vanished.  Being heavily distracted from what just happened Buck floated down the river towards the noise with great curiosity.  Buck did not use a paddle to float down the river, however he used his abnormal hand size to power through rip currents.  As he floated towards the sound, he recognized the sound of someone groaning injured.
“OHHHHHHHH, that kinda hurt” said a balloon faced man with scarecrow clothes. Buck paddled by to check on this wondering stranger. The guy looked up at Buck and said, “at’ll be the last time I walk that far on that limb gain”.  “Well who be you, tall timbering stranger?  And why were up in dat tree up der?” questions Buck.  As Buck was finishing his question ,a box of thin mint girl scout cookies hits Buck in the shoulder.  Miles responded, “I was trying to clear my rear! But, as I bent over the branch snapped and I flew faster than a jack-rabbit on opium.”
In the midst of deep conversation sounds erupted from the pebbles of the river and mysteriously appeared Nomes Chomper.   Nomes picked up the cookies and said, “I ain’t had one of these in years!”.  Miles quickly responds by throwing a rock and knocked the cookies out of his hand. “you you almost knocked out my toof” paniced Nomes.  The balloon faced man said, “you don’t wanna eat that.  Those special delicious cookies were used to clean my bottom. Them cookies were butt treats.”  Nomes stood there confused, mouth wide open, trying to understand what Miles meant.
The dusk sky made the scene almost majestic with the way that the leaves fell onto the surface of the river. The approaching darkness became more frightening though when the sound of falling leaves was broken up with the pops and cracks of gun fire off in the distance. Nomes broke the silence by saying “Ya’ll don’t want to head that direction. It ain’t nothin’ but trouble over there. I just came from it, thanks to them redcoats havin us surrounded on three sides.” Buck and Miles looked at Nomes and told him to lead the way since he knew where not to go. Nomes responds to this surprised leadership role he was given with excitement.  He says, “I know this woman just downriver, but we gots to be careful ‘cuz of Indians and redcoats got patrols out here.”
They began to gather what little they had on them and headed down the banks of the river to the woman’s house. After a few hundred yards, Buck grabs ahold of Miles and palm-faced him followed up by “I’m sick of smellin’ your dingle berry.” He pushed Miles to the ground behind him to convince him to be last in this line. They continue to sneak their way down the remainder of the river, nearly being caught by both Indian and redcoat patrols due to Buck’s flipper like feet slapping the ground as he walked.
After walking through the darkness for many hours, they come upon a shack in a field that was lit solely by the moon. Nomes looks back to the new-found posse and lets them know that this is the safe house of the woman known as Big Red. He stops the others on the edge of the wood line and says, “I gotta go up there alone and let me convince her to let us stay here. I’ll give ya’ll a signal to let ya know you’re good to come on up.” He then indicates the signal by placing his hand into his armpit and making a sound like a chubby frog eating kettle corn.
Nomes disappeared to the front of this shack for a few short minutes. He came back to the field and gave them the signal to let know that she was alright with harboring them. The two that were in the woods moved swiftly across the field and up to the home. They were greeted by a woman at the door with hair as red as Norwegian crawl-dog munchin’ on sloppy joes. They expressed their gratitude for her generosity, very much appreciative of safe sleeping quarters.
She showed them into the cellar where she insured that they would remain safe and hidden. As they began to settle in, Big Red came in carrying hay for someone to sleep on, a warm quilt for another, and a sheep so fat it looked like a Puerto Rican mosquito after sucking on Buck’s thumb for the third person. Miles quickly yelled “DIBS!” pointing towards the fluffy sheep. Nomes and Buck agreed that neither wanted to be so selfish so they manned up and decided to share the hay and warm quilt with dancing fairy’s shucking oysters imprinted on it.  Miles unashamedly cuddle up with the sheep. After a few moments of all of them restlessly tossing and turning Nomes unexpectedly cut on the latern put  a pebble on his head and said “ I can’t stop thinking about that beared lady from the carnival screaming  “ I’ll scallop your mustache!” pointing at a sloppily dressed british officer in the middle of the fighting at slip dizzy.”  As Nomes proclaimed this, the three men bursted into laughter and conversation drifted off into the midst of night.

title: This Kid In My Class Read This OUT LOUD! We all just sat there...in silence. As he acted it all out.

question: Summarize the scenery set in the first few paragraphs of the story.

answer: The way the setting is set in this story gives a "Huckleberry Finn" vibe. The main characters are near a river that is surrounded by many trees. A battle had just broke out between the Americans and the Red Coats in the surrounding area, so they were being cautious of cannons. The main characters are also fishing.

question: What would be the next adventure the three men would embark on?


text:
War Birds

The air is still and cold, frozen. Frozen like the whole of the City’s population. They stand and stare on porches and balconies, wait in terror on sidewalks and roadways. Sirens ring out long and loud, a useless warning of what is coming. Then there is silence. No traffic, no footsteps, only a deafening quiet. It creeps up the roads and into the houses filling up the lungs of the citizens. Families cower in their living rooms, while couples prepare to throw each other into the arms of the enemy, and those who are alone thank God no one will see them in their most fragile of moments. The City waits in terror. No one runs, no one breaths, no screams…yet. The still wind begins to move as if uncomfortable in the silence. Suddenly the wind begins to scream, cut through by mile wide metal wings. Like an ant hill trampled the City is in instant chaos. People climbing over people, hurtling fences, tumbling over cars. They run. In their hearts they know they will not escape the fire storm that is coming, but still they run. Anything to trick themselves into hopefulness. Those on the southern most fringe of the City see them first. The War Birds. They rip through the clouds, gnashing their teeth and bringing death. The wind roars for them as they hunt for prey that cannot hide. Those on to the north run from the city limits hoping only to evade the deepest circles of the Hell now brought to their doors. Others simply wait accepting that they will die today in burning arms. Far more citizens wait in their homes without the dignity of acceptance. Those who acknowledged the Reapers coming embrace sit calmly, while the rest blubber prayers to Gods they never believed in, or prepare an early departure from this world. In its last terrified moments the City tosses off all pretense. It citizens show one another who they truly are cowards and heroes alike. The War Birds descend on the City for an infinite moment that ripples through time out into forever. Even as this moment passes the City stills feels the hot breath they breathed down the streets. Even as they fly back to their hangers to rest on a new batch of hellish eggs the City feels their terrible presence in the fires that linger. The citizens scream prayers and damnations as they melt into the crumbling inferno that is their City
Even after the long living fires are reduced to embers the screams stretch on and on throughout eternity. No one was spared from the fires not children, nor the elderly, not the guilty or the innocent. The air is hot and still, the acrid smell of death is scorched into the earth itself. No one goes near the City anymore. The roads were closed and the maps were changed. Everyone forgets what they know to be true. This great memory loss is everyone’s reminder that the War Birds and their masters are the powerful and the strong. A reminder that Gods hold the fire and any so bold as to emulate Prometheus can be punished just as severely for their ambition. This is the legacy the War of Birds.

title: War Birds

question: How does the author say people feel about what's to come?

answer: There are a variety of reactions, at first people are frozen in fear and then some turn to chaos, running and and falling over each other. Others are calm, some pray and some hold their families close.

question: Why are the War Birds attacking the city?

answer: No motive is given.

question: Did everyone die in the bombing?

answer: The narrator suggests that no-one escaped the firestorm. No-one was spared.

question: Write a ~2 sentence summary.

answer: A short story about a city about to be bombed. The story reflects on the way people react to the knowledge of impending doom as well as the lasting legacy of the bombing.


text:
EMORY JENISON PIKE (December 18, 1876 – September 16, 1918) was a United States Army officer during World War I who received the Medal of Honor for his actions at Vandieres, France on September 15, 1918.[1] A 1901 graduate of West Point, and the only West Point graduate to be awarded the Medal of Honor during World War I, Pike was a lieutenant colonel at Vandieres. His daughter was presented his Medal of Honor after the war.[2] He was buried at Woodland Cemetery, Des Moines, Iowa.[3]

Medal of Honor citation

CITATION:

  Having gone forward to reconnoiter new machinegun positions, Lt. Col. Pike offered his assistance in reorganizing advance infantry units which had become disorganized during a heavy artillery shelling. He succeeded in locating only about 20 men, but with these he advanced and when later joined by several infantry platoons rendered inestimable service in establishing outposts, encouraging all by his cheeriness, in spite of the extreme danger of the situation. When a shell had wounded one of the men in the outpost, Lt. Col. Pike immediately went to his aid and was severely wounded himself when another shell burst in the same place. While waiting to be brought to the rear, Lt. Col. Pike continued in command, still retaining his jovial manner of encouragement, directing the reorganization until the position could be held. The entire operation was carried on under terrific bombardment, and the example of courage and devotion to duty, as set by Lt. Col. Pike, established the highest standard of morale and confidence to all under his charge. The wounds he received were the cause of his death.[4]

[1]

[2]

[3]

[4]

title: Emory Jenison Pike

question: Who was Emory Jenison Pike?

answer: He was a United States Army officer during World War I who received the Medal of Honor for his actions at Vandieres, France on September 15, 1918.

question: What rank did Pike hold when he was at Vandieres?

answer: Pike was a lieutenant colonel.

question: How old was Lt. Col. Pike when he died from wounds sustained at Vandieres?

answer: He was 42.

question: Describe Lt. Col. Pike's heroic deed.

answer: During a recon mission for new machinegun positions, Lt. Col. Pike assisted in reorganizing advance infantry units that had become disorganized during heavy artillery shelling. He initially led 20 men and was joined by several infantry platoons. He encouraged the men with his cheeriness despite the extreme danger of their situation. Lt. Col. Pike rushed to the aid of a wounded man and got severely wounded himself when a shell hit. Despite his injuries, Lt. Col. Pike retained his jovial attitude and encouraged the men to hold their position under heavy bombardment. His confidence lifted the morale of the men. Unfortunately, Lt. Col. Pike died from his wounds.

question: Write a ~5 sentence summary.

answer: Lt. Col. Emory Jenison Pike was a United States Army officer during World War I who received the Medal of Honor for his actions at Vandieres, France on September 15, 1918. He reorganized infantry units scattered by heavy artillery shelling and encouraged the men to hold their position despite the odds. Lt. Col. Pike aided a wounded soldier and suffered severe wounds himself when a shell landed near them. Despite his injuries, Lt. Col. Pike still provided encouragement and retained his jovial attitude, lifting the morale of the men under his charge. The wounds he received were the cause of his death.


text:
I never got lucky before. Never won anything. Used to buy the lotto tickets, every paycheck. Just $20 in scratchers. Anna in Accounting won a cool thousand my first week there. I played for 5 years and never once won.

Course, Anna in Accounting is dead now. Same as everyone else.

I spent the last month of the world in a cell. Oh, they didn’t call it a cell, they called it a research wing. The Red Death had already killed half the globe by that point. Asia was pretty much gone, North America was right behind them, and Europe was down to only 1 in 4 alive. 100% mortality rate, they said. No one could survive it, they said.

Then there was me.

I put on the mask as I prepare to leave. Gotta wear the mask. Maybe it’d be better if I left the city, but can’t leave the city, so gotta wear the mask. Sure, I was the Last Hope for Humanity, the One that Lived, or so the papers said, but doesn’t mean I can’t get sick. Just not the Plague. One in ten billion chance, apparently.

I grab my shovel.

The irony is, the Red Death started because some nutjob in Japan thought he had found the key to immorality. A retrovirus that would completely halt the natural aging process. And this nutjob? He decided that this was a gift to humanity, he didn’t want money or accolades, so he made the goddamn cure to age into a contagion, stuck himself with it, and took a flight. Tokyo to LAX. LAX to O’hare. O’hare to JFK. JFK to Heathrow. Heathrow to Charles DuGalle. Charles DuGalle to Moscow. Moscow to Dubai. He died in the terminal in Dubai, after having spent six hours walking around each of those airports, contagious as all hell, and all on the weekend before Christmas.

“Fucker,” I mutter to no one as I shoe away some crows.

They’re big bastards now. I’ve started calling them Crovus Rex. They don’t seem to mind me much, but they watch me. Read an article once, before the plague, about how damned smart crows were. Seems with us gone, they’ve been getting smarter. I hear them cawing at each other all the time. I think it might be language. Sometimes I think I can understand it. That one sound, a Caw with a harsh start and a slight lag at the end? Sort of a Kchraaaaw? I think that’s me. I wonder what they think of me.

I grab my newest find and shove it into the wheelbarrow.

Funny side effect of the Red Death? You don’t decay, bacteria don’t eat you anymore. You just bleed out and then sit there. Mummified. That bastard mummified the whole world. Except me, although he still kinda did. Everyone else died. Unless something kills me, I never will. No one could figure out why. Just a fluke of genetics that kept me ticking.

The wheelbarrow’s heavy now.

Time seems funny these days. Goes by so fast. Maybe it’s just because I’ve had so many days they blur together even while I’m living them. Either way, time to head out. I’m in New York, right now. Obviously. Well, maybe not. Dunno who I’m talking to these days. But I get out of the city, and then I walk a ways more. Been in New York for…for awhile. Couple hundred, maybe? Just about done here, though.

Ahead of me stretch the Stones.

I try to include a name when I can. Find it in wallets. Well, what’s left of them.  It’s getting harder and harder as things decompose or get lost. If not, I put some details. Anything I can make out. “Wearing Red.” “Woman With Four Rings.” Anything, though it gets harder and harder to make it out each time. Still, I think I’ve got maybe a week or so left.

Then I’ve buried the entire state of New York.

Oh, I’m sure I missed some, and I’m sure the animals have eaten some. Some of the graves are no more than a fingerbone. But I keep digging. There isn’t anything else to do. Humanity may be dead, but it’s gotta be buried too.

And I’ll be the Gravedigger.

title: Response to a Flash Fiction Prompt that went way over the limit - "You are the last person on Earth..."

question: Why does the virus kill all of humanity?

answer: A scientist thought he had found the cure for aging.

question: What does the narrator do with his time?

answer: Buries all the bodies of humanity left from the virus.

question: Why did the narrator survive when everyone else died?

answer: A quirk of genetics.

question: What was the name of the virus?

answer: The Red Death.

question: Write a ~2 sentence summary.

answer: The story is about the last man alive after a virus supposed to cure aging wiped out most of the population. The protagonist spends his time burying bodies in New York City.


text:
With the launch of its large cars complete, Volvo is now focused on introducing a new generation of compact cars.

The first of these compacts, or “40” series models, isn’t due until 2017 but to help build excitement—and perhaps persuade buyers to hold off on a competitor—Volvo has previewed two of them with a pair of concepts.

The concepts include a crossover SUV previewing a new XC40, and a sedan previewing a new S40. Volvo’s next-generation compact car range will also include a replacement for the current V40 hatchback.

[Volvo 40.2 concept]

Volvo 40.2 concept

The concepts, like the production models they preview, are based on the CMA (Compact Modular Architecture) platform developed by Volvo in partnership with parent company Geely. The platform promises advanced technologies in the areas of connectivity, electrification and autonomous driving, as well as the refined driving dynamics you’d expect from a premium offering.

The first production model to be spawned from the platform will be the XC40, a test mule for which we’ve already spotted. It will likely be followed by the S40 and eventually the new V40.

The cars will offer 3- and 4-cylinder engines in addition to alternative options. The most potent will be a T5 Twin Engine plug-in hybrid. Note, the latter will feature front-wheel drive as opposed to the “through-the-road” hybrid all-wheel-drive setup used in Volvo’s plug-in hybrids based on the larger SPA (Scalable Product Architecture).

[Volvo CMA modular compact car platform]

Volvo CMA modular compact car platform

Volvo has also confirmed that its compact car range will be offered with 7-speed dual-clutch transmissions.

The range will also include at least one battery-electric model; Volvo also plans a larger battery-electric car based on its SPA plaform and due by 2019. As the photos of the CMA platform reveal, Volvo's electric car will house its batteries in a T-shaped structure located under the rear seats and running down the center.

The good news is that Volvo's compact range will be offered in the United States. Volvo hasn’t sold a compact here since the C30 was dropped from the lineup in 2012.

_________________________________________
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question: Why is Volvo showing some of the new compact vehicles before they are released to the public?

answer: They are trying to build up customer excitement and perhaps prevent the customers from buying from the competition.

question: Who helped Volvo design the architecture upon which the new models are built?

answer: It was done in partnership with their parent company Geely.

question: Which model will have the most powerful engine?

answer: The T5 Twin Engine

question: Does Volvo currently sell compact cars in the US?

answer: No, they don't. They dropped compacts from the range in 2012.