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⚽ Twelve 8-year-olds + 200mg of caffeine + one mortified coach = the best bar story you’ll hear today. Trust us, you want to hear how this ends.
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A late-night traffic stop becomes a reminder: storytelling connects us, grounds us, and makes us known. In a world of strangers, our stories are how we find our way home.
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Grant’s thoughts about purchasing the Toyota snapped away when the officer softly tapped the driver’s side window. “Hello? Can you roll down the window for me, sir?” Grant didn’t realize the young officer was standing next to his door. The lights were blinding and hypnotizing all at the same time. “Yes, sir. Absolutely.” He quickly
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Before I was old enough to read, I told stories. Imagination incubated, spit out into the world through my limited toddler vocabulary. After being taught how to read and write, the magic turned from oral stories to written stories. Now I was writing my own material, reading everything I could to get ideas, even the
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Staring right at me, I thought she would start screaming, yelling at the top of her lungs. Before you start in on me, I just want to set the record straight – I didn’t start this argument. No. Really. I didn’t. It wasn’t my fault. But then again, the guilty always have a way of
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Fresh-cut grass. Damp, lush fields of green. Sunlight peeking out from behind the cloud, melting like a pat of butter on a hot grill. Sunday morning, June 21st, 1991, a little after 10 a.m., is when a torrent of rain hit the small carnival in Beaverton, Oregon. Me and the girl I had just met
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On top of his Stussy bucket hat sat a stuffed black and white stuffed cow, which wasn’t an unusual sight. Not in Portland during the Rose Festival. Wearing jean shorts, white Reeboks, and a Camel t-shirt, his short almond-colored hair was barely noticeable under the hat. And, unless you got real close, you wouldn’t notice
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TIME OUT! Social media is the place we go when we want to see what’s up, what’s new, and what’s next in the lives of our friends and family. It’s where we find out what Aunt Brenda ate for dinner last Tuesday. Instagram photos show you unique places with amazing people, many of whom you
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For a brief moment I wanted to lash out, to overreact and attack a friend, all because I didn’t have enough information to make a solid decision. It took me a few days to digest what happened, not because I needed space but a break. I needed to step away and come back with fresh
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In case anyone was wondering, no. Life isn’t fair. Not that I think it should be. But let me tell you something. If ever there was a time that I was feeling slighted and cheated for my education, experience, and ability to create and draft a story, it would be right now. I’m a storyteller
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“What happens when they find out?” The board sat, waiting for the Chief Executive Officer, Donald Gershot, to reply. “Are you referring to Emulsion’s pay scale? The minimum wage in Missouri is $7.25 an hour. Isn’t it? We’re paying them above poverty levels for Missouri, correct?” Looking around the table, Donald waited to see if
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“ALL ROCK AND ROLL MUSIC IS SATANIC!” Me and my friends laughed at him. Well, they did. I was a bit too scared to laugh, as my Dad was a local Southern Baptist church pastor. But in Dublin, California, we didn’t call it Southern Baptist. We moved from Arkansas in the spring of 1980. My
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Chirping. A constant, not altogether unfamiliar chirping sound. Eyes half opened, having laid down to get some sleep minutes earlier, the sound was less aggravating and more irritating. Like nails on a chalkboard, Brad reached for the bedside table, searching for the annoyance to silence it. Permanently. Finding the cordless phone, he considered shutting it
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Officer Keyes sat in his patrol car, the door slightly ajar, his left foot dangling, trying to put together pieces of what exactly happened to Kyle Patterson. The EMTs were saying heart attack. The young men who caused all the excitement bailed before Beaverton Police arrived on the scene, and Patterson had a coronary event.
Stories. Enjoy!
5 Minute Observations 