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Post by Jacqueline on Feb 7, 2011 20:29:59 GMT -5
Nice poem. *S* It seems like we are both on an angel kick lately. LOL
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Post by Jacqueline D. on Mar 6, 2011 16:19:50 GMT -5
This is Allen's Post!
Paul Brewton reached out and slammed a large knuckled hand down on the radio’s snooze button, turning off the alarm as he lay face down in the king-sized bed he shared with his wife Rebecca. The mattress shifted ever so slightly as Rebecca pulled the covers back and stood up with a stretch and a muttered, “Come on. Daylight’s burning and we have to get the kids ready for school.” The dark-haired man turned over onto his back, watching his wife as she pulled a robe on, his cobalt blue eyes raking over her as he lay there not wanting to get out of bed. “I’m coming,” he said after a moment and slid from the bed with a yawn, walking into the restroom as the sun slowly rose outside the bedroom window and taking a quick scalding hot shower. His wife entered the room just as he pulled on his shoes, sighing and running her fingers through her hair as she said, “They’re fighting about some club,” and kissed him lightly on the lips. Paul nodded and walked into the kitchen, where he sat and talked to them about not excluding people from things based on differences, as his son Jason wanted to do with his “Boys Only Club.”
“How would you like to be excluded from a club just because you happened to be a boy or because you had your mother’s red hair?” Paul asked his son in his deep baritone voice.
Jason whined, but eventually admitted that he wouldn’t like that at all; his father nodded soberly and continued, “Remember the Golden Rule, son. Always do unto others as you would have them do unto you.”
“Your father’s right Jason,” Rebecca said as she moved to stand by her husband’s side, placing an alabaster arm around his shoulder and smiling at her children with ruby red lips and sparkling green eyes. The red-haired woman leaned against Paul, the curve of her breast pressing against his shoulder stirring him and causing him to rush to the stove to fix himself two eggs, toast, bacon and some coffee.
After breakfast, Paul stood up and took Rebecca’s small hand in his large one, leading her into the den where he said, “What about a date tonight? I’ll see if Heather can babysit the kids.”
“That sounds wonderful,” Rebecca said warmly as the bus drove up. After getting the kids squared away, Paul jumped into his pickup and headed to work, scowling when someone in a Corvette cut him off. He ignored the rude driver when he passed him a minute later and sped through two green lights in rapid succession as he entered Claxton and passed Georgia Fruitcake with hardly a car in sight.
“Expect thunderstorms as Hurricane Mary grazes the coast,” the meteorologist on the radio reported, but even that couldn’t dampen Paul’s spirits after his luck at the stoplights and the prospect of his date with Rebecca.
“Damn,” he said a moment later, deflating somewhat as the he noticed how low on gas he was; quickly pulling into the gas station, he filled up the tank and then rushed to his store. A moment later he parked his candy apple red Ford F-150 and got out, walking quickly to the sidewalk and toward Wonderland, the book store he’d opened fourteen years ago after graduating from college. Paul looked back at his truck fondly as he started to unlock the door to the book store, then looked down as he noticed a crisp Thomas Jefferson two dollar bill on the hot ground.
“Thief!” a voice called out and Paul looked up to see an old woman staring at him. “I just dropped that,” she claimed. “I’m sorry ma’am,” Paul responded, handing the dollar over with a smile.
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Post by Jacqueline on Mar 6, 2011 16:25:19 GMT -5
Drew me right in you did! Finish it! LOL I want more.
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Post by Jacqueline D. on Mar 19, 2011 17:01:33 GMT -5
This is Allen's Post!
The sun beat down on that green field like a furnace as the two forces moved into formation, the Union enemy ensconced behind the fort they'd taken while Confederates moved onto the field, a line of five cannon to the backs of that stalwart infantry. As if by unspoken agreement the engagement began at 2:00pm with a steady march of grey-clad men and women towards Fort Wallace-Wood. Muskets, rifles, and cannon fired on the Confederates as they approached, quickly answered by their own firepower. First, the infantry answered the bluecoats' volley, then - when safely out of the line of fire - the artillery opened up, thunder coming from a blue sky.
Cannon 5. "Company, attention! Prepare the cannon, without detail. Sight, one thousand yards!" The cannon was cleared and wormed. Private Jones was situated to the right, lanyard in hand. "Advance the round!" The powder monkey advanced and the cannon was loaded. "Fire!" Private Jones yanked the lanyard, sending off a round toward the invaders, Northern men on Georgia's soil. Again and again, the same orders came with the occasional "Cease fire! Cease fire!" so that our boys could get out of the way. After 15 minutes, all sound ceased, except for the boom of the cannon. After half an hour, the brimstone smell of gunpowder was almost suffocating. His arm tingled, then ached, as sweat poured down his brow and back.
Finally, after an hour and a half the battle was done. The Confederates had been repulsed this time, but there was always tomorrow.
Both sides prepared to fire a ceremonial round in honor of the spectators. Private Jones's rise was meteoric as he was suddenly, and quite unexpectedly, given the brevet rank of Gunnery Sergeant to command the final volley. A comrade was being discharged for health reasons, and thus he was given the honor of firing that final time.
When done, Private (Brevet Gunny) Jones strode from the field contentedly. He'd done his duty. Now, on to the sutler's shops that always sprung up when the two armies met. He found many necessities, but being a poor private who hadn't recieved pay yet, he had to set aside his desires for another time.
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Post by Jacqueline on Mar 19, 2011 19:44:38 GMT -5
I'm glad you had a good time. Even if it was hot as all hell today.
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Post by Jacqueline D. on Mar 19, 2011 19:46:05 GMT -5
This is Allen's Post!
It was a blast.
Pun intended.
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Post by Jacqueline on Mar 19, 2011 19:56:38 GMT -5
LMAO! You lil gunny you.
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