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Ways to a Nutrtional Lifestyle and Maintaining It

No Author — Tue, 14 Dec 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Ashli Ceraolo, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing ContestEating healthy, maintaining a nutritional diet, and exercising adequately is not the only factors needed to keep weight off and keeping a healthy lifestyle. Appearing healthy is not about being unrealistically thin, or keeping yourself from eating the foods that you enjoy. It is rather about feeling great, having tons more energy, and keeping yourself as healthy as possible, but in realistic measures. One of the most important steps to having, or maintaining a healthy lifestyle is understanding the way your body functions.Many people still do not understand why it is that he or she eats. Often, it is because you are hungry, tired, or your stomach is rumbling.

You Could Take the Chance

No Author — Mon, 13 Dec 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Brenda Crites, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing Contest He was down to the last three dollars. There was one thing he had always aspired to be: a singer. The opportunity went unnoticed for about four months before he found out that he had lived just across from a guy who owned a studio all along. Yet even when he found this out he did nothing about it because he was too scared. Scared of not knowing if he was good enough, scared of failing.

Flyin on Four Wheels

No Author — Sun, 12 Dec 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Scott Bumgarner, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing Contest When the group of neighborhood guys I grew up with, was in fact trying to grow up, we all had a fascination with "muscle cars". We all fancied ourselves as experts on speed while driving '54 Chevys and '53 Fords and whatnot. The older generations, guys three and four years older, drove '58 Chevys and '59 Chevys and we heard about the tales of the 'marked' off quarter mile part of US Hwy 7 about three miles west of Davis, Oklahoma.That is where all of the challenge drag races were carried out. The Dairy Queen was located on the western edge of Davis where Hwys 77 and 7 converged, and this was where everyone hung out. If two guys decided they wanted to race each other word would spread in a New York minute, and it would look like a funeral procession at high speed trying to get out to the 'drag strip' for the nights main entertainment.This happened many times on Saturday nights in the '50s.

The Beauty Within

No Author — Sat, 11 Dec 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Carina Gutierrez, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing ContestWhen you have a child with a disability you see the world in a different way. You truly understand that true beauty lies within and it doesn't take diamonds, clothes, or having the best of everything to see that true happiness is inside your soul. I have a beautiful daughter who was diagnosed with Autism at three years old. Now at eleven she doesn't do the things that a girl at her age would normally do; she doesn't talk about boys, gossip with friends, or shop for clothes. She plays with her dolls, colors, and loves watch anything Disney.

Sunny's

No Author — Fri, 10 Dec 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Basil El-Ghazzawy, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing Contest"It looks like... ah... people dine here....""Watch what you say around here, OK?"He shuffled in his chair nervously, then grabbed me by the collar from across the table. In a vicious whisper, he barked into my ear; "They'relooking at us, man! We're the only white guysin this place!"Ah, yes...

The Last Goodbye

No Author — Thu, 09 Dec 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Jose De Jesus Lopez, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing ContestI didn't see it coming, surely I must have known, at the very least I should have seen the signs. It began in the autumn of my life, right when we are suppose to have superior intelligence and foresight. A year ago we were told that my mother-in-law had been found unconscious in her small bedroom and my wife quickly packed, kissed our children goodbye and we went to bring her home. We found her at the hospital, full of life and quick wit. Leaving the hospital, on the front steps, she collapsed.

One Block

No Author — Wed, 08 Dec 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Walton Jordan, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing Contest ONE BLOCK!What if I told you there was every kind of person living on one block? Punk rockers, gang bangers, hipsters, Upper, middle and lower class folks, millionaires, hippies and homeless people. Now what if I told you that all these people interact with one other and refer to each other by name. There is such a place right here in San Francisco on Haight Street between Fillmore and Steiner. I've never seen anything like it before; people who accept you for the content of your character and not by the way you look.

Why Music?

No Author — Tue, 07 Dec 2010 15:00:00 EST

By John Branstner , a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing ContestWHY MUSIC?I am writing this column partly in response to some actual encounters that I havehad recently. I thought that it might be of interest to readers. The query of thetitle of this article actually has come up in conversation. Being a musician myself,I must admit it is quite unexpected as the answers to me are a given. Yet, it isincredible that there are so many individuals that have not had music as a significantpart of their own life experience.

The Other Side of the Looking Glass

No Author — Mon, 06 Dec 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Chandra Fox, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing ContestGrab onto your happiness, hold on with every ounce of strength you posess. I firmly believe in this world the only thing worth having, and fighting for, is love. It's by far the most difficult to achieve, and even harder yet to hold on to.Faith is the ability to believe in something you cannot see or touch. Something you only know is there because your soul can recognize it. It is hard won, and generally even harder to maintain.

Haunted by Regret

No Author — Sun, 05 Dec 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Melissa Mendelson, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing Contest"The last days of this year have reached my doorstep. I dare not look at the pages of my life, afraid to see that I am still standing with yesterday and have not reached tomorrow once more. Another year is about to die, and what if my life has not yet been born? Where are the dreams of yesterday to light the skies of tomorrow? Why must the present remain so dark?

A Parable of Atlantis

No Author — Sat, 04 Dec 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Ruth Wilson Zamierowski, Fia nalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing ContestMany thousands of years ago, the Atlantic Ocean was dotted with hundreds of marshy islands, surrounding a continent which was an earthly paradise. Blossoming fruit trees covered the rolling hills. The buildings in the capitol city gleamed golden in the sunshine that filtered through its canopies. Circling through the city, a glimmering canal teemed with commercial ships and pleasure boats.The people were adept at using their consciousness to perform what seem to us to be miracles. This enabled them to dream up and create incredible technology.

The Unexpected Racists

No Author — Fri, 03 Dec 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Sean Wright, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing ContestA friend's husband uses racial slurs and opinions that slavery was "not that bad" for African-Americans. Another friend reluctantly admitted that her boyfriend declined my party invitation when he found out I am Black. It was rumored that a coworker constantly complained about the influx of black faces into the company. My shock at these incidences was not that people were still thinking and acting this way in the 21st century, butwho did and said these things. My friend's husband is Hispanic and the other's boyfriend is of Middle Eastern descent.

Dust Storm

No Author — Thu, 02 Dec 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Randi Carlton, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing Contest "Things are quiet out here." Greffyn Layre lay on his back, loafing in a sea of sand. He let the sun pour upon him, penetrate each pore and heat his blood into submission. His eyes closed and he could still see the sun. His eyes still shut, he imagined that the sand was slowly moving, that there was a current and fair breeze that was carrying him away to some paradise, some spot where the hope of all the hopeful had concentrated and created something called life or beauty in motion. He let the burning of the sun and of his desire lull him into a dream soaked with insanity and warm sloth.

Love Never Lost

No Author — Wed, 01 Dec 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Emily Mendez, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing ContestO.K., let's face it. You and I? We were never meant to be. This could never have happened the right way. You and I?

The Zen of Jigsaw Puzzles

No Author — Tue, 30 Nov 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Christine Polk, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing ContestMy mom, who isnot into meditation, gave me my favorite meditation tool - jigsaw puzzles. We have spent countless hours together and individually working on jigsaw puzzles. An article by the Dalai Lama on active meditation stated that it did for him what playing 18 holes of golf did for others. It was not the quiet empty mind meditation but a thinking, active meditation. Over years of doing many puzzles and working on my meditation practice, I finally recognized that I had blended jigsaws with active meditation.

The Contract

No Author — Mon, 29 Nov 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Suzanne Hubbard, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing ContestAs the friendship ended it felt like we had been in a knife fight. There were no winners and our scars were obvious. Some had opinions, but only Laura and I know, just like anyone in a true bond, what actually happened.The emotional wounds ran deep from our anger, frustration, jealousy and differences. It's irritating to me when I think about it. Years have passed and on occasion I still feel abandoned.

How to Form Your Own MasterMind Group for Message Work

No Author — Sun, 28 Nov 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Deb Christiansen, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing ContestWhy a MasterMind GroupNow more than ever, more and more people are showing interest in developing their intuitive side. This can be a difficult process to achieve alone. There are many methods to develop your power of perception individually, like reading metaphysical books or taking classes. However, regular practice with a group will expand your senses exponentially. Think of yourself as a small flashlight running on two AA batteries.

Taking Cues from Nature

No Author — Sat, 27 Nov 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Darlene Danko Sowa, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing ContestAfter the tsunami in 2004 reports circulated about the remarkable survival rate of the indigenous tribes in the area. According to these reports, the loss of life among the indigenous people was only a small fraction of what happened to the general population. The explanation for this disparity was the fact that the indigenous people were connected to nature and listened to its warning of impending danger. Hearing the warning, they fled to higher ground.In these times of great changes and uncertainty, I find that nature is talking to us loud and clear. All we have to do is take the time to listen.

Guided Coincidences

No Author — Fri, 26 Nov 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Connie McWethy, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing ContestIn 1995 I started realizing I was having experiences and receiving information that seemed guided, not by coincidence. Some of my friends were having similar experiences and we freely talked about them. I eventually coined the phrase "guided coincidences" to refer to things, experiences, or information that comes to a person or group by divine intervention or a power greater than themselves. I'm talking about that gut feeling you get that helps you make an important decision or how perfect it was when you took a wrong turn and ran into someone you haven't seen in 30 years; or you found something you've been needing. A higher power, God, Spirit or your higher-self guided you in the right direction.Although I had "guided coincidences" 15 years ago, my husband and I were very busy raising 3 children.

My Journey

No Author — Thu, 25 Nov 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Tracey McCrodden, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing ContestLooking back at the road I've taken I have to ask myself not only how I ended up on this path but also why. I can remember the person I used to be. The strong, confident, purpose driven individual I used to be. The one that was sure of who I was and where I was going. The person who didn't care what anyone else thought.I never tried to fit in with anyone in my life..still don't.

The Birth of an IDEA

No Author — Wed, 24 Nov 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Gene Goza, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing Contest In 1968 I needed to work two jobs to make ends meet, so to speak. My main, full-time job was "at the plant" while my "moonlight job" was at the Holiday Inn on 11th Street in Beaumont, Texas, as a hotel desk clerk. I learned that the occupancy average of sold rooms was, and still is in fact, 60% at almost all hotel/motel properties across the country. That left 40% of unsold rooms every day and night, and increased revenue opportunities, in my opinion, were overlooked for those empty, unsold rooms. Way back then, and even now, drivers arefalling asleep at thewheel and causing the deaths of an average of 2,000 annually across the country.

Meeting of Mothers

No Author — Tue, 23 Nov 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Elizabeth McFeeters, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing ContestDunes of white sand she walks, moon shedding her tentative glow over the sacred homelands of Mother. In silence the circle forms. Smallest is that of the elder mothers. The grandmas of each tribe, carrying the depth if wisdom, love, and grace unknowable by younger generations. Ringed around the grandmas are the children, the grandchildren, those who are not physically mothers but are learning at the knees of their mothers, fathers, and grandparents.

Love Stories Only Happen in Fairy Tales

No Author — Mon, 22 Nov 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Mia Chang, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing ContestLife now seems like a maze, never really sure where to go, or where to turn. I'm always scared but never show it. Its like I'm running away from what I think is a deep dark hole into nowhere. It turns out that the deep dark hole is you, and as of now this relationship is going nowhere. You had your chance to make it better, but now its gone.

To an Athlete Dying Young

No Author — Sun, 21 Nov 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Peter Mckeown, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing ContestIn high school, I never played football. It is still one of my biggest regrets to this day. I was always small growing up, so soccer seemed like the natural choice for my skill set. By the time high school came around, I had to make a choice; risk being a tackling dummy for a sport I loved to watch but never played competitively, or play varsity soccer and basically use it as conditioning for hockey. I chose the latter, and don't get me wrong, I had an unbelievable experience playing soccer at my high school.The coaches were as good as I've ever had, but my heart was never in the sport.

There Will Always be Hope

No Author — Sat, 20 Nov 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Sage Gray, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing ContestEvery day as I grew up I saw my father stick a needle into his arm, I saw my mother loading a bowl, and I sat and watched as their lives quickly evaporated. A day after my family hit rock bottom, my father left my mother and I for a new girlfriend in Texas. He left my mother and I homeless, and hopeless. As I grew older, I was raised in a slightly more stable environment. But I constantly despised my parents for letting me be born and raised into a house of utter chaos and hell.

Me & TJ

No Author — Fri, 19 Nov 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Bryanne Williams, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing ContestNo one knows why things happen. Some say certain events happen for a reason; it is all in God's great plan. Others may argue that it is only coincidence. For me, some things happen a little too coincidental for my tastes?.I remember when I first met him. I was surfing the romance section in the Myspace classified ads.

Becoming a Swan

No Author — Thu, 18 Nov 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Suzan L. Weiner, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing Contest"Why does everyone, especially my mom, feel the need to tell me I'm overweight?" I cried many nights, alone in my room, with only the four walls to keep me company. Don't they know I have mirrors in my house, and can see my extra girth, just like they can. How many times have I thought I was too heavy. I felt sad about it and many times I tried to lose the pounds.

Independent Access- Gina's Success of Living Without a Colon

No Author — Wed, 17 Nov 2010 21:26:00 EST

By Gina Jones, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing ContestI was a typical teenager that only wanted to live off hamburger, hot dogs, french fries, Suzie Qs, sunflower seeds and Bologna sandwiches. By the time I was 12 I was having constipation problems enough that I would take an occasional laxative to keep things moving along. I had a tumultuous life style while growing up, I was a childhood entertainer. I was always having pain in my stomach but just chalked all up to the rough life I was living. Most of the time I would fall into the category of Anorexia and Bulimia.

Quiet Combat

No Author — Sat, 06 Nov 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Anna Greunke, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing ContestWe got the news early on,Though, I didn't understand.Being only ten years old,No one would explain.My grandmother was sick,That was all I knew.She would get better soon, right?'It must just be a cold or the flu.'"It'll all be gone in a few days."I wish that had been true. But this intruder had made its markAnd, for a while, was here to stay.Days, weeks, months passed...Eventually I found out what was happening.She had been diagnosed with breast cancerAnd our family would never be the same.After painful treatments of chemotherapy,Countless late-night surgeries,And the love and support of her husband,Yvonne Greunke had finally beat cancer.I can't tell you how proud we areOf how strong and courageous she was.And after thirteen long, upsetting months,My grandma won a battle with the devil.I gained an unexplainable respect for her,And will never change my mind.She is even more a superhero in my eyes,Considering the fact that it never returned.

Kundalini, a Yoga Journey

No Author — Fri, 05 Nov 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Brittany Anderson, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing ContestKundalini is an ancient yoga which has been practiced by the highest level yogis for thousands of years. Kundalini refers to an untapped creative energy potential located at the base of the sacrum that for the majority of the population is never activated. When this powerhouse of energy is awakened, it can bring about enormous positive results. These results can manifest up to 16 times faster then with ordinary yoga. Kundalini yoga brings about these changes through deep meditation, vigorous exercises, and powerful breathing techniques, which pulls the energy upward to be utilized by the whole body.

The Age of Love

No Author — Thu, 04 Nov 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Kelly Castle, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing Contest"I'll, uh, be right back," I spat out, excusing myself to the restroom. As I wiped beads of sweat from my forehead, I looked back to see her face full of confusion. Wow, even when incredibly confused, she was still so stunning. Once safely behind the restroom door, I ran towards the faucet and quickly splashed my face with water. "Snap out of it, Jon," I told myself.

Looking Through the 'Dirty" Glass

No Author — Wed, 03 Nov 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Jennifer DeLaCruz, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing ContestI look through the dirty glass but I cannot see through it clearly. I know one thing: the stare on the other side is not that of the person I love. The quick onset of depression has stricken that person and made him go from sober to addict in a few days, and will eventually lead him to become violent, angry and ill.How can I help, what can I do? These are the questions that immediately come to mind for many, but they will look away. This is the story from the other side of the glass, the side that everyone hides from and can easily escape.I despise drugs and alcohol because they have taken the people that I love and twisted them into uncontrollable addicts.

Can Art Survive in MI

No Author — Tue, 02 Nov 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Shaqe Kalaj, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing ContestDoes the climate in Michigan inspire artistic expression? Is our "Great Recession" inhibiting art, or can the bad economy have an effect in moving people toward a more complete, whole artistic existence? Or is artistic passion just not that strong in Michigan? And is this due to the economic depression that we are currently in, or has the climate for the arts always been like this here?To help answer these questions, we might look at some current events that are being talked about in the media. Like the release of Apple's iPhone 4, for example.

An Arizonan Parable

No Author — Mon, 01 Nov 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Matt Rothchild, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing ContestA man and a woman-Adam and Alice-got married and settled down into a newly-built home on a vast tract of recently-virgin ground. They were very happy with their lives and in an act of charity, decided to start giving away free food, blankets, medicine, and the occasional overnight stay in one of their extra rooms to the impoverished and needy. All was well until?"Alice, we cannot afford to give all this away anymore," Adam announced to his wife."What should we do about it?" she asked."Hmm, maybe if we lock the house and erect a fence on the edge of our property, that would keep people from coming here," Adam suggested."But we'll still offer the giveaways?" Alice asked."Um, yeah. We can still do that," Adam answered.So Adam put up a fence and locked up the house, but continued to offer the free giveaways to anyone who made it into the house."Adam, there are fewer of them here, but people still come looking for the giveaways. Somehow, they find ways to get in here," Alice said."Yes.

The Can Man

No Author — Sun, 31 Oct 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Stephanie Haddad, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing ContestThe clattering metal rings in your ears before you see anything. It clangs, rattles, rolls toward you in a dizzying whir of sound. It draws closer, just as it has every morning before today, the rustling plastic bags sliding back and forth along the bottom of the criss-crossed metal. The cans and bottles inside the shopping cart jostle with every crack in the weather-beaten sidewalk. He's getting closer and soon you'll get a glimpse.

He Wanted Me to Know

No Author — Sat, 30 Oct 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Marie Gibbons, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing ContestCHIRP...CHIRP..CHIRP. The shrill night sound unnerved me. Could a cricket scream?That hot August afternoon, I had received a shocking phone call from Danielle, a fellow writer. Cliff, a former member of my writers' group, had apparently shot himself to death the previous night.Cliff joined the group just as I began leading it twenty-three years ago. The curly-haired author looked distinguished in his tweed blazer.

This Little Light

No Author — Fri, 29 Oct 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Rachel Raasch, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing Contest The gray house in front of Sarah was like a gravestone, a monument to mark the place where her innocence was lost. "This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine. I won't let Satan blow it out, I'm gonna let it shine." As Sarah sang the old song her mother had taught her, the words were distorted by a steady current of air swirling around the abandoned house. The windows of the wretched place let out a series of mournful notes as the wind battered the panes. Then with a particularly large gust, the nails holding the shutters shrieked, and reminded Sarah of the time she had been brought here by a strange older man.

Prayer For Real

No Author — Thu, 28 Oct 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Kimberly Anderson, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing ContestDearLord, please help me quit drinking.I prayed that so many times. Time and again I prayed:Dear Lord, please help me quit drinking. And time and time again I would immediately think to myself,Oh no, what if he does it?I used to reason with myself about quitting. I would say that due to anunexpected work issue orhome related issue (issue being anything that causes mild to severe stress), it would be a bad week to quit, so I will quit drinking next week. Next week never came.

The Hidden Costs of Passion

No Author — Wed, 27 Oct 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Laura Hunter - Thomas, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing ContestThe biggest decision of my life thus far was made when I was sixteen years old. The details of the decision, and implications thereof, were these:"Laura. You know I have coached two other girls to Olympic medals, one gold and one bronze, and I have many other career medals from these two girls, among others. I know you've told me that you want to go to the Olympics yourself. I know that you love fencing.

Changing Sides of a Helpline

No Author — Tue, 26 Oct 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Jim Solari, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing ContestIn 2003, I had the first honest conversation with another person that I had had in a long time. She asked me what kind of drugs I took and how much I drank. We talked about my desire to end my life. She asked me about my family and about my work. My family lives 1500 miles away.

Is Having a Father Necessary?

No Author — Mon, 25 Oct 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Lynne Youdin, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing ContestThis morning I woke to a debate on the radio about whether having a father is necessary. Some said yes, of course having a father was necessary while others said no, not if he's not available or if he's not a good father. Still others said if someone was raised without a father in the house, than what did the child miss?This is not the kind of stuff I like to wake up to.Still, it was there and so I want to address it.I no longer know if there is a correct answer to this question EXCEPT (I now feel) if someone is not a good father, then by all means, let him go. Overall, less harm is done to the child by a consistent absence than a father who remains nearby for years, but never shows up.Mind you, it has taken me over twenty years to get to this viewpoint.~~All these years I have felt bad for not giving my daughter a father. I felt I had failed her in that way (after all, I had chosen him, hadn't I?).

Dancin Wit My Momma

No Author — Sun, 24 Oct 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Bella Quintanilla, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing ContestMy grandmother ran around the house getting everything ready. She looked like a chicken that just had its head cut off by the farmer and was now running around for the remainder of its little life. She may be our grandmother, but she's Momma to my brother and me. Her short curly wig stayed in perfect place amongst all the chaos. I wondered if it was permanently attached the same way my Barbie's hair was on her head.

More Chicken Than I Could Handle

No Author — Sat, 23 Oct 2010 15:00:00 EST

By By Rick Light, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing ContestLunchtime rolled around and one of my buddies gave me a bored look and said, "Where are we going for lunch today?" I rattled off a couple of places. He answered each with the same grunt: "Been there, done that," as he rolled his eyes at my menu choices.After thinking awhile, I said, "Hey, let's go to the Deli at the grocery store; they offer a chicken dinner for about three bucks nowadays. It's gotta be better than MicD's."My buddy became animated and said, "Yeah! That sounds like a great idea!"So off we went in search of a meal that wasn't as mundane or expensive as our usual fare.Arriving at the store, we took our place behind the usual customers, looking for a pound of this or a loaf of that, and patiently waited our turn. The Deli counter was long and had several older gals working with customers, calling the numbers in the order they were dispensed from the ticket machine."22!" That's my number!

R.I.P

No Author — Fri, 22 Oct 2010 15:00:00 EST

By John Mackey, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing ContestRest in peace... Three simple words, but they provide some comfort for those left behind. However, I was surprised to see this weekend that not all of our fellow citizens take these words seriously.I was out putting flowers on graves with my family in a small Northwest Missouri town. I couldn't help but notice the number of head stones that had been knocked over. In high school, I remember hearing students talk about "Stone Tipping" with pickup trucks.

The Incident

No Author — Thu, 21 Oct 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Anna Krutsenko, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing ContestWhen I was little, I was stupid enough to stand up on a sled and tell my friend to pull it. Her back was the last thing I saw before I fell back and crashed onto the icy ground with a loudthud. After about a week of pain and not being able to bend down, my parents finally decided to take me to the doctor to check out my spine. That's when we found out I had fractured it. My parents were in shock.

Fianchetto

No Author — Wed, 20 Oct 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Madison Krieger, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing ContestIn my part of the country, the crepuscular hours are characterized by low, planing sunsets across empty space followed by a complete absence of light, as opposed to the other part of the country, the megalopolis, in which there is in fact a comparative increase of light. One of the most interesting things I ever did learn was that when the sun sets, it has already set, and in fact the light is simply afterglow bouncing haphazardly off of part of the sky. I assume the same is true for sunrise, though the book only described sunset. I never did like that, and after that discovery I always looked at the sun cockeyed, treating it like the mendicant it really is. Only something with malicious intent would create such a beautiful lie.So, when we found it, and with the sun's desperate cry for attention looming in the westernmost corner of our eyes we assessed it, the decision was handed down to act, react instantly and with no small degree of celerity.

Through the Veil

No Author — Tue, 19 Oct 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Derek Thompson, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing Contest"Sol, it's time. They're ready to see you now."There was no warning, no inkling of their purpose, just a dire sense of immediacy. But however bad things were, at least the waiting was over.The faces along the corridor were friendly as Sol passed by. Maybe they were too friendly? This time he must have really rocked the boat because they showed him straight to the upper level, flanked by seniors who escorted him in silence.

To Date or Not to Date

No Author — Mon, 18 Oct 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Cynthia Peele, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing ContestTo date or not to date younger men, that is the question I pose when a handsome, well-built younger man walked up to me on the track and asked if he can walk with me. Lucky for me, this morning I renewed my commitment to smile at everyone. I'm a native New Yorker who still has not shaken my defensive posture despite living in the Midwest for nearly a decade. My facial expression naturally reverts to its "don't even think about" scowl whenever any man approaches and opens his mouth to speak. Trust me, this is an improvement over the "kill or be killed" look I wore every time I stepped onto a New York City Street.

One Goal

No Author — Sun, 17 Oct 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Adrian Cervantes, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing ContestAll throughout high school I knew that I wanted to join the military. So the summer after I graduated, I went into the Air Force. While in the military I wanted to accomplish a number of goals. Those included: travel the world, receive money for a further education, and most importantly, have the financial security to comfortably raise a family. I've always wanted to have a bunch of children that I can watch grow up.

A Day in the Life of a Tumbleweed

No Author — Sat, 16 Oct 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Zak Johnson, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing ContestFamiliar overgrown weeds tickled my ankles as I stumbled to the highway shoulder with Kendra dragging her feet behind. The sun had not visibly ascended from behind the ant hill mountains in the horizon but it was nonetheless bright outside. I turned to reveal my cardboard sign to oncoming traffic. It readSanta Fewith an upside down cross for the "t" so as not to attract the wrong crowd. We were somewhere past Albuquerque with our sights set on the glorious city of Santa Fe.

Polliwiggle and the Stork

No Author — Fri, 15 Oct 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Tina Nguyen, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing ContestDedicated to Dr. Schauble, who composed the "lullaby" based on Psalm 46 and is honored in this story, on the fly.Polliwiggle and the Stork Today is the 137th day since Big S went away.To the mind of the 11 year-old Polliwiggle, grief has not a name but a foggy feeling she has never experienced before. It reminds her of a newly carved gourd, emptied of its flesh. A very special emptiness indeed, an airy space through which light dared flow, sometimes very dimly. On the first day, Polliwiggle felt an urge to be in nature.

The Locket

No Author — Thu, 14 Oct 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Samantha Nusbaum, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing ContestThe phone call came the day of my son Sam's birthday. It was from a Dr. Moore, informing me of my father's death.Could I come down to clean out the house? I responded with a "sure" and hung up the phone. I figured I could leave in the morning, stay a few hours, and still make it back in time for Sam's party.

Stones, Colors, Aromas and Herbs: Four Transformational Circles

No Author — Wed, 13 Oct 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Sue Bentley, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing ContestMost of us are aware of the individual uses of Stones, Colors, Aromas and Herbs. However, most of us are not aware of the use of these four elements in conjunction with each other.Imagine spokes on a wheel where lines from each of these four elemental circles intersect in the center. It is at this intersection that produces a natural synergy between the four circles. Individually, these elemental sources add meaning and life enhancement qualities to our lives. Envision the effects on our lives when combinations of these four circles are used together.

The Vessel

No Author — Tue, 12 Oct 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Matt Gomez, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing ContestTwo silhouettes in theater seats, the light from the screen blasting around them.She leaned over to whisper to me."I'm slowly forgetting everything."I told her it was better than remembering. I told her she was lucky.She asked me what it would feel like. I told her I couldn't explain with words. So I showed her.We got into a taxi and told the driver to take us out into the country. The sunlight hit us harshly.

A Beautiful Boy and a Crippled Boy

No Author — Mon, 11 Oct 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Jordan Alexander, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing Contest"I was on a bus, sitting next to a crippled boy."Fred watched me. A cigarette between his Mexican lips."He loved music and loved the idea of Christianity."Mint smoke rose between us. Rum settled inside us."But he found a conflict in loving both."Fred didn't ask me what the boy looked like. He didn't care how the boy smelled.But I told him. "He hadn't shaved in a couple days.

To Nobody

No Author — Sun, 10 Oct 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Mark Shoeck, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing ContestMy friend Sean and I were playing ball in the backyard. We're pretty big for our age so I backed up and threw the ball as hard as we could, over and over. Ma wasn't home or she probably would have told us to scoot in some, so we wouldn't hurt each other or break a window again.I told Sean it wasn't far enough for me. He said it wasn't for him either. So I told him I'd go over to the Christians' backyard and then that'd be far enough for us.

Indian Summer

No Author — Sat, 09 Oct 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Samantha Brickell, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing ContestSunny daysTry to last foreverOpen skies of beautyLight the wayDaylight fades too fastAt this time of yearAs the summer sunshineSlips awayBurning up debrisFrom the planetOur home on earthOrbiting the sunDelivering the seasonsThat bring life and hopeKnowing that the autumnSoon will comeNuclear furnaceWarms the earthTime to passAnd turn from night to daySunlightGlinting off the beaten trackTriumph in the momentLeads the wayPhoenixArises from the memoriesTruth emergingFrom the sunlit dewReaching far beyondThe point of reasonAs the summer sunshineShines on youAbout the AuthorSamantha Brickell is an intuitive poet and writer from the South of England, now living in the Seattle area.

Mom on the Moon

No Author — Fri, 08 Oct 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Brittany Ineson, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing ContestI walked around the corner to her aunt's house. Celia was staying there until everything was settled. All the paperwork and planning, all the nonsense that she didn't want to deal with at that point and time. I met her outside and she looked good considering what she was going through mentally. She wore black slacks with low black heels and a silk black shirt.

Why do we Climb?

No Author — Thu, 07 Oct 2010 15:00:00 EST

By John Mattson, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing Contest My wife and I recently met an Argentine psychiatrist on the top of a small mountain in Patagonia, and I couldn't resist the age-old question. "Why do people climb mountains?" He told us jokingly that we were very crazy, and that we should come to his office as soon as possible. "Because they are there," or "If you have to ask the question, you won't understand the answer," are the most common stock responses I've heard, but the true reason is more difficult to define. The sport that started as a hobby for a few eccentric individuals has become so popular that the rocks in many areas are overcrowded. Modern equipment and a large variety of documented routes provide relatively safe environments for a skilled climber.

Conundrum for the Homeless Warrior

No Author — Wed, 06 Oct 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Dede Preno, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing ContestNate crushed his change from the cashier in his fist: a quarter, dime, nickel, and 4 pennies. He paused a moment to contemplate that his day had just been knocked down a peg. He enjoyed a cafe Americano from the corporate yet irresistible coffee shop on the corner from his studio; the only downside to it was the infinitely irritating receipt of 44 cents. 44 cents was one of those mathematical irritants of the American monetary system that must include only one piece of each silver denomination and the rationally maximum amount of copper. It was almost overbearing being saddled with such a small amount of useless change.

Cabin Fever

No Author — Tue, 05 Oct 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Sara Janssen, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing ContestMy favorite place in the world lies in the stunning Colorado mountains. Over-looking the quaint town of Manitou Springs, this cabin means so much sentimentally to me. It was built in the 1930s out of fallen pine that lay on the forest floor for 25 years. My great-grandmother lived here long ago. She once was asked if her picturesque home could be part of the National Historical Association, but she added a porch so they took back the offer.

My First Broken Heart

No Author — Mon, 04 Oct 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Jolynna McCune, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing ContestI'll never forget my first heartbreak. I was 12 years old and in the 6th grade at a little country school near Millington, Tennessee.I was the new girl that year. My mom had taken a job as the school secretary, and therefore even though we didn't live in the district, I was allowed to attend. Being the small school that it was, most of the kids there were paired up, in cliques, friends with the same kids they had been friends with since kindergarten. I was an outsider, and very shy.

You Just Need To Finish

No Author — Sun, 03 Oct 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Daniel Kleinowski Jr., a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing ContestI thought about quitting. I told myself once I reached the next turn, I would quit. I reassured myself with each passing second that I would not push my aching legs to finish the next two miles of this eight kilometer race.It was a hot, humid summer morning. The 2010 Fish Day eight kilometer run had been on my mind since I finished the 2009 race with a time I was very proud of. I was running it this year with some friends from my college team (about half of them were doing it for the first time).

New York: My Muse

No Author — Sat, 02 Oct 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Sadia Awan, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing ContestWhat is it that separates New York City from all the other cities situated in the United States?I always found NYC to be a great hub of crazy activity and non-stop motion. Perhaps that is why it is so aptly nicknamed, "The City That Never Sleeps". Recently, I felt as if I had lost my muse and as a result, my creative juices had all but dried up. It was then that I was hit by an idea and two days later, I hopped on a plane from Toronto, Canada. In no less than 2 hours, I was in New York City.My first stop was, of course, Ground Zero, the area where thousands of people had lost their lives on that fateful day.

Tuesday

No Author — Fri, 01 Oct 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Julie Johnson, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing ContestIn the back corner of the room was a group of desks no one ever sat at. Maybe it was because of the way the afternoon sun came through the half-closed blinds and stenciled hot rectangles onto the desktops and floor, or because of the faded portrait of the man with accusing eyes on the nearest wall. In any case, the four desks sat consistently, unfailingly empty week after week. But Allan walked in late for the first time that year and his eyes flickered over the classroom to settle on a pale figure, like the ghost of some dead student, busy opening a spiral-bound notebook at the corner desk. He glanced away, took a few strides to his desk next to the girl who brought colored pencils and smelled like hair products, and didn't give the newcomer another look until class was over and the usual stampede to exit the room had begun.

Loneliness

No Author — Thu, 30 Sep 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Intentional Sage, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing ContestSpeneva (pronounced speh-nee-vuh) was reflecting back on some of the stories that her grandparents used to tell her. She remembered one in particular that she had a hard time understanding. It took her grandmother a great deal of time to explain it to her before she was able to comprehend the concept. It was almost as if Speneva was from a different culture than her grandparents and they were trying to explain to her something that was inconceivable to her.As Speneva listened to her grandmother tell her about loneliness, she had to focus on each word. Her grandmother would tell her that loneliness was when people felt like they were the only person in the universe.

Parent Abuse

No Author — Wed, 29 Sep 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Robyn Rushing, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing ContestGo to any major news channel, and you will hear stories on the mothers who neglect their own children and fathers who use violence to teach instead of love and morals. You don't have to search very hard to hear about these types of tragedies. In 2007, approximately 5.8 million children were involved in child abuse reports, and the number of allegations increase every year. Unfortunately, this isn't new to most of us. There are a lot of resources to help abused teenagers and, over time, people become more and more aware of this issue.But there is another crisis around the world, kept hidden in our homes, buried in our past, and denied by our own hearts.

Phoenix Rising

No Author — Tue, 28 Sep 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Cassandra (Ecco) Gifford, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing ContestAfter a particularly heartbreaking 3 months, I'd begun drinking heavily. I was a single mother of five children, had been illegally adopted and abused, and my entire adopted family had shunned me when I report the abuse. I was truly alone.Money was tight, if not non-existent, I had no emotional support and I was slowly falling apart. Seeing as I was on such a good track mentally, I thought dating someone equally as dysfunctional would be a capitol idea, so I proceeded to connect myself to an extremely abusive boyfriend. Of course my life took a wild turn for the worse.What jump-started this downfall was when I'd decided to move across country; I had a transitional home to stay in while finding a rental, a used car lined up so I could get around, a future apartment that I could move into, and some spending money while I was neatly lining all of my ducks in a row.

Father and Son Time

No Author — Mon, 27 Sep 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Keith Mcintyre, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing ContestTraditionally, father and son time consisted of dad coming home from work and going outside the family home and throwing around leather or rubber covered object with his son. Dad worked hard with his offspring to make sure that ball was thrown, caught, hit or shot into a hoop correctly. When done accurately the son would receive great praise. Dad would then boast to his coworkers and friends about how great his son was and that someday he might become a great athlete.For some of us growing up in the eighties and early nineties things where much different. Once I discovered skateboarding nothing else mattered.

A Twelve Ounce Program

No Author — Sun, 26 Sep 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Edward Baumruk, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing ContestIt has been said that when I mix beer and thought, I can be dangerous,so I quit drinking. Not for any other reason but the love of the most beautiful girl in the world.Everything was going great until she got pregnant. Being the son of a twice-divorced mother, I went to "Sick Call" at my first duty station after "Boot Camp" to get myself "Fixed". After a very invasive Q&A session and a sample of urine, I found out that there was no need for surgery because I "couldn't knock up a petri dish!". I kept this secret to myself until I was in my second year of sobriety and let it slip out while talking to Mrs.

The Legend of Saint Boudreaux and His Playful Fire

No Author — Sat, 25 Sep 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Elizabeth Billeaudeaux, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing ContestA long time ago, when this town was still very, very, young, there lived a man named Alistair Boudreaux. He was a hard-working man who was well-loved by the tiny community. Most of the people around here were either fishermen or farmers. Alistair was a fisherman who knew all the best fishing spots. Each day he would go out into the Atchafalaya Basin and each evening he would come home with more than enough fish.

By the River Bed

No Author — Fri, 24 Sep 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Aisha El-Huni, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing ContestBy the river bed, I saw a man or perhaps a boy. I couldn't really tell, for what I saw was merely a fragile being of some human form. Curiosity launched it perkily hands around my neck ?blissfully singing notes of whispers to my ear. Unintentionally responding to the beat, I found my tapping feet taking the lead. Silently in fear of waking up the dead, I followed.

A Swig, A Chew, A Drag.

No Author — Thu, 23 Sep 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Blake Rude, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing ContestTall white walls covered in dirt and greasy finger prints. A single naked light bulb clings to an exposed wire, slithering away from the ceiling. Empty linoleum floors painted with decades of grime, tears, sweat; the mutts of the dirt world. Cigarette butts cover candy wrappers and the candy coated floor reeks of lingering mold.A cotton white plastic chair, violated from millions of bacteria from fluids that only God knows of, held together with duct tape. It cozies up to a short desk, covered with carvings of it's previous residents.

Peyton Manning: Renaissance Man

No Author — Wed, 22 Sep 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Lane Rizzardini, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing ContestAt this years's ESPY's, viewers again saw Peyton Manning plastered across their TV screens, doing a spoof on "The Blind Side" with Seth Meyers where they inserted Manning in between clips of Sandra Bullock dialogue. Take a look.This is just another one of the many stops on the Peyton Manning comedy sponsorship tour. Who can forget such classics as "Cut that meat!" and "Your defense is offensive!"? He's done commercials for Sony, Sprint, MasterCard, H.H. Gregg, Oreos, Gatorade, DirecTV, American Red Cross, Reebox, Xbox, and ESPN.

Peculiar Pictures

No Author — Tue, 21 Sep 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Charles Schilling, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing ContestWaking up in the morning meant two things: brush teeth and tie shoes. Of course, I left out the middleman of putting the shoes on, especially after my pants, but that's unnecessary drama. Instead, the focus is on the strong beat of the background song, which could be purchased in the text soundtrack. It is, of course, all in binary.I make a horrible salesman, mainly because I fail to hide certain unwanted truths and prefer to mention a product's down sides before its pros, partly because I understand how it feels to be mislead; but the truth of the matter is that we all must learn how to discover the cons for ourselves prior to purchase. I never make anything easy for others, some say I treat people like I treat products.The old bag of grass in my pretty wooden box had been subdued, knocked out, finished, spent like all the wonderful things in our lives.

I Knew You'd Come

No Author — Mon, 20 Sep 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Elizabeth Grimes, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing ContestI have the best granny in the world, or so says the homemade, brightly-colored, baked-clay-clumsily-glued-to-a-safety-pin "broach" I made for her in first grade. Constantly levelheaded, and always sensible, my grandma can be found in the front row of every Christmas play, piano recital, and cheerleading competition, bursting with pride for her grandchildren. Each of her co-workers knows by heart the lives of my sisters and myself. "Oh!You'reMary's granddaughter," they say when she introduces me. "Boy have I heard a lot about you!" She drags every person she can club over the head to one of my boring jazz band concerts or just to listen to me play the piano at Lee's Restaurant and sip coffee.

The Zen of the Jigsaw Puzzle

No Author — Sun, 19 Sep 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Christine Polk, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing ContestMy mom, who isnot into meditation, gave me my favorite meditation tool - jigsaw puzzles. We have spent countless hours together working on jigsaw puzzles. An article by the Dalai Lama states that active meditation did for him what playing 18 holes of golf did for others. It was not the quiet, empty-mind meditation but a thinking, active meditation. Over years of doing many puzzles and working on meditation, I finally recognized that I had blended jigsaws with this active practice.While looking for the right piece with my eyes and a little bit of my brain, I was also letting my mind seek out and work through something that needed attention.

Igraa! {My Inner Conflict}

No Author — Sat, 18 Sep 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Agnes Wysowski, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing ContestTwisted in ignorance and error lie the once known covered truths that were to man, the once beautiful, the once pure, the now seeping in the dirt of the varying strokes in the crooked path of discord, of the selfish lies, of the filthy alibis, and carving tears of ignorance and despair that poke freckles in man's chest. There once laid a graceful golden virgin maiden on the beach of peaceful waters unified by the ease of swift motion telekenized by the powers of her own mind, slid side to side in perfect laboring circles. Her hair is a rainbow and her smile is the sublime joy with a mind of an enchanted forest where leaves are emeralds and trees are high above your head twenty fold.But then came a phantom with a selfish soul that swallowed her whole and began cursing in the words of adversity and made holding hands in all colors and languages a sheer pity. The people began observing the laws that claimed many flaws. The evils became multiplied and the people forgot to speak the language of truth and burnt the bridges that linked the two and set flames to the fields that the fair maiden used to flock to full of creatures only knowing and living in peace and love.

The Glass

No Author — Fri, 17 Sep 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Richard Desforges, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite's Writing ContestThe bar had already become occupied by its usually occupants, including Soot, who was sitting at the bar, looking at his glass that was full of rum. He wore the same clothes, as when I had met him before, and drank in the same manner. The two couples, who occupied the right hand side of the bar, were laughing in the same manner, and the same young woman was sitting with the man in the booth. The same couples were playing pool together, and the same dimly lit environment barely led me to my seat next to old' Soot."It's funny the way things work in life, eh?" he asked, continuing to look at me."What things?""You meet a man once, sitting here in his lonely self, enjoying the glass of rum that he looks forward to all day, and then you sit next to him like you've been friends your whole life."I got up and moved over a seat, which prompted him to say, "I wasn't telling you to do anything, son. Just saying how funny life can be."Still in my depressed mood, I sat there, not expecting any attention from the bartender, nor feeling comfortable enough to get up for my own beer.

Washing Clothes

No Author — Thu, 16 Sep 2010 18:34:00 EST

By Claudia Hernandez, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite Corporation's Writing Contest"Come on Anjali. The clothes need to be returned this evening. Your mother and sisters are already in the ironing shed. They are waiting for you. Go help them and stop your daydreaming."Pitaji's (Father's) strong voice booms over a labyrinth of crossing lines, through thousands of clothes billowing in the wind, down the endless rows of washing tubs, and mingles with the vibrant strains of human cries, giggles, and laughter.Just because I am aDhobi(Indian washer), I can't dream.

The Freedom of Forgiveness

No Author — Wed, 15 Sep 2010 16:52:00 EST

By Karen Bashawaty, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite Corporation's Really Short Story ContestShe looks at his downcast head, his slumped shoulders and averted eyes, and she recognizes the truth. In the space of a heartbeat the rumors of his betrayal become reality. She is devastated,wishing only to vanish and escape this moment of pain. The pieces of her heart scatter about like the desiccated remains of autumn leaves. He is silent, caved into his own misery.

The Field

No Author — Tue, 14 Sep 2010 16:48:00 EST

By Mary Ouellette, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite Corporation's Really Short Story ContestA group of laughing teenagers huddles under the leafless elm, ignoring me as I fast-walk past, wary of the soccer ball they manipulate with their feet. I am late, late late! but if I don't get a cigarette I am going to die. Every one of the teens share distinct characteristics, not least of which is the ability to speak languages of various South American countries more fluently than that of the country in which they've made residence.One boy does spare a glance, though; maybe he recognizes me from World geography last year. Fourth period, Matthie, room 126.

Boll Weevil Christianity

No Author — Mon, 13 Sep 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Wayne Sorge, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite Corporation's Really Short Story ContestThere used to be a song in 1961 by Brook Benton called "The Boll Weevil Song", which told of the unpopular creature who infested cotton bolls in the south. The recurring "them", in the words of the Boll Weevil, were "just looking for a home."I am reminded of people who look for churches these days. Recently, after the Presbyterian General Assembly, our church had a discussion of the issues it had raised. At the Assembly, a visitor had proclaimed that his daughter was looking for a church home. He was trying to help her find one that went by the Word of God and the Blood of Jesus, or "blood atonement".Among the issues discussed by the General Assembly and highlighted by our guest speaker was the issue of gay and lesbian people.

Naming Your Child for Corporate America

No Author — Sun, 12 Sep 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Danisha Allen, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite Corporation's Really Short Story ContestI discovered something this year. Maybe I'm just growing up and understanding more about the world we live in or maybe I was ignoring the truth.Most of you know me or know my name. It's not the easiest name in the world to pronounce, but it's not the hardest either.I went to college at the only HBCU in Kentucky: Kentucky State University. I know why the college was founded where it was. What I didn't know was that after I graduated, finding work there and other places would be difficult.

Where's Your Blue Bird?

No Author — Sat, 11 Sep 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Matthew Kennedy, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite Corporation's Really Short Story ContestI awoke on a Sunday, groggy and in need of religion. On the previous day, I had almost checked myself into the Atlantic Shores Psychiatric Hospital. Filled with unholy melancholy, falling into bits of rage and depression, I spent the day desperately seeking something I had lost long ago.Still lacking in spirituality, I decided to take the advice of an ad in The New York Times and traveled with my wife to West Palm Beach, to the Norton Museum of Art. I sought to cease the grieving process, to fill my lost and confused soul with Negro Spirituals from the days of slavery. In these troubled times, the need for uplifting moments is great.As I arrived, I noticed that the event seemed equally popular with whites and blacks.

Shh Tap

No Author — Fri, 10 Sep 2010 16:00:00 EST

By Tony Saladino, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite Corporation's Really Short Story ContestI say prayers even before beginning the ritual of preparing for wild rice harvest; I give thanks while meticulously washing my canoe. I load the tarps, ropes, canoe, gear, camping kit among further prayers, collecting and loading the things I will need to live under the stars for the two weeks during the annual ricing season. The whole year long, I can "hear" the sound of the canoe sliding through the grassy water and the gentle knocking of the sticks on the rice. In our hurried lives, sometimes it takes a significant retreat to reestablish contact with the abundance of the natural world. Poling through rice beds is one of the most meditative activities that I participate in as well as one I do for the most hours, without a break, each year.

Seasonal Memoir

No Author — Thu, 09 Sep 2010 15:00:00 EST

By H.E. Mantel-HaroHalola from NewsPortalSite Corporation's Really Short Story ContestOur home was fronted by a steep incline. The Hill, we called It, in Winter when the then-predictable Long Island heavy snows floated down and blanketed the ground. I remember peering out from the glass storm door, eclipsed only by insatiable anticipation of the gathering of cohorts - some 8 or 10, chiefly boys - to the crest for that 1st day (typically/excitedly an excised School Day) of not just sledding -oh, my precious, belly-floppin'Flyer! -), but of communing, pristine youth impervious to ice-pilled mittens, slopping galoshes, woolly caps 'n bulky snowsuits filling with the stuff!

The New Trend of Sand Volleyball

No Author — Wed, 08 Sep 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Cassie Gambill from NewsPortalSite Corporation's Really Short Story ContestIt started for me about 3 years ago. I was called by friends to sub on a sixes, coed team. I never really played any volleyball outside of grade school gym class! I am of average athletic ability and drawn to a beer and some laughs, and, oh yea a little volleyball. I make my way to the facility, buy my first beer, meet with the team.

When Lightning Strikes

No Author — Tue, 07 Sep 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Kamela Torvinen from NewsPortalSite Corporation's Short Story ContestOnce upon a very long time ago when my grandmother's father was a young man, he found himself unsure of his future and his place in the world. His was the old world where life had a slow, smooth rhythm that followed the beating of the earth's heart. His people were of the land, wholly unencumbered by the trappings of city dwelling. Yet he could not find peace and grew restless trying to tame a stirring he couldn't name. Until one particular day, the longest of the year in fact, Midsummer, or as his people would say Juhannus.

The Most Useless Time of Day

No Author — Mon, 06 Sep 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Chace Ciulla, Finalist of NewsPortalSite Corporation's Really Short Story ContestShe ran her finger across the lip of her shoe. It was smooth and dusty, cracked in places from the pressure of being bent. The holes in the bottom were starting to cause her socks to rip when she walked. She put her finger through the one in her heel and tickled the soft skin on the bottom of her foot.She pulled a small green notebook out of her pocket and began scribbling numbers into it; adding and subtracting, crossing out and circling. The bus bounced by a group of young girls walking with back packs and soda cans.

Olive Tree Initiative Revelations in Israel and the West Bank

No Author — Sun, 05 Sep 2010 18:20:00 EST

By Aaron Elias, Finalist of NewsPortalSite Corporation's Really Short Story ContestConflict and violence have been a part of the human condition since we first crawled out of the sea (or woke up in the Garden of Eden, depending on your narrative). I ask you, dear Reader, to keep this in mind as you read on, and to remember this is my own personal perspective. The Olive Tree Initiative (OTI) is an on-campus program concerned with the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Its objective is to foster dialogue and understanding between the two sides in an effort to ultimately bring about a peaceful resolution to the conflict.OTI, now in its second year at UCI, aims to achieve this by gathering students who harbor all sorts of opinions about the conflict, from the pro- and anti-Israel parties to the pro- and anti-Palestinian parties, and everywhere in-between. The program sends these students on a two-week trip to Israel to gain firsthand experience by talking to speakers and people directly affected by the conflict. Now that the region is more secure, this year's batch of students was also able to journey through the West Bank.I am one of those students.

Faceless

No Author — Sat, 04 Sep 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Bobbi Goldner, Finalist of NewsPortalSite Corporation's Really Short Story ContestI've heard his name, millions of times, over and over, again and again. She said his name so many times it was burned into my brain. She talked about him so much, I knew everything about him. I knew what he looked like without ever seeing him. He was a ghost to me, but an angel to her.Years went by and I saw him transform through her stories, her memories, her words over and over, again and again.

In Review: Maps & Atlases

No Author — Fri, 03 Sep 2010 15:00:00 EST

By Joshua Ramon, Finalist of NewsPortalSite Corporation's Really Short Story ContestAfter the initial two-hour drive to Chicago I thought I had arrived at Subterranean with plenty of time to roam the streets nearby. After avoiding the line until just after nine o'clock, I was told my name wasn't on the list. At least not the list I mentioned to the man with the clipboard. While the blow to my ego was fully absorbed, this meant the show would start while I was sitting on the sidewalk, sending out a series of text messages to try to get inside ? my only option now that the show had sold out.Finally, the band's "front man", Dave Davison (guitar/vocals), arrived, looking very much like a savior of sorts with a guru beard and matching long hair to contort. Oddly enough,at almost the same time their manager came outside saying my name, and I was inside and relieved that all things had aligned.

The Stamp

No Author — Wed, 01 Sep 2010 15:20:00 EST

By Aubrey Carter, First Place Winner of NewsPortalSite's Short Story Contest"UNBELIEVABLE!" yells the email. "New 42 cent stamp celebrates Muslim holiday." It proceeds to list all the atrocities this stamp should bring to mind. "Remember the Muslim bombings of Pan Am Flight 103!" it demands. "Remember the Muslim bombing of the World Trade Center! Remember the Muslim bombing of the American Embassies in Africa!

A Storm's Escape

No Author — Wed, 01 Sep 2010 15:15:00 EST

By Elizabeth Reichert, 2nd Place Winner of NewsPortalSite's Short Story ContestScrambling over roots, around trees, and through brush, grey-brown cottontail rabbits flee to their homes nestled within great oaks. White-tailed deer bound through the forest until they reach their home thicket where they settle themselves to wait out the coming storm.Swaying trees dance to the wind's music, and leaves take flight. The dark, majestic clouds begin dropping their tears. Crashes of thunder follow strikes of pure heat and energy, attacking the ground below. Barraging the forest with heavy pellets of rain and unceasing lightning bolts, the storm wails like a newborn infant.Amidst the shrieking cries of the wind and thunder, a two-story cabin stands its ground, neighbored only by trees and fleeing creatures of the earth.

The (Potty) Mouths of Babes

No Author — Wed, 01 Sep 2010 15:10:00 EST

By Rena Leisure, 3rd Place Winner of NewsPortalSite's Short Story ContestMy husband and I worked really hard to teach our two-year-old daughter, Jena, to talk.No, really, we did. And what do you know, she learned.Oops.I realized a few weeks ago what a really big "oops" it may have been. We were flying back to Texas after a visit home to the Midwest. The first leg of our flight was delayed, so we made it to our connection literally as they were shutting the doors and fell into our seats at the back of the plane about five seconds before the start of the safety spiel that meant we were, in fact, going to make it back to the Lone Star State.Long about the time the flight attendandts were teaching everyone to use their life vests, Jena froze in her seat. She looked up at me, her eyes big and green and her face red.

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Michael Kagdis — Sat, 16 Jan 2010 07:33:00 EST

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Michael Kagdis — Sat, 25 Jul 2009 20:53:00 EST