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A Mere Mortal by Ramkumar Menon Tabor is old, helpless and all alone. He takes a journey through mystical paths and .... Read alo... [3,753 words]
Ed's Gift
When I Lived In Sodom by Musau This is a story that tries to get under your skin but keeps you curious in spite of it. [2,472 words]
To Understand The True Meaning Of Meaning by Musau This is strictly for adult reading because of language and implicatio... [5,480 words]
Touchdowns, Dandelions, And The Hawk by Steven T Andy Clannons never wanted to go with his friend Sharon Hobaltz to one of ... [3,319 words]
You Are My Sunshine by Sue (Sooz) Simpson - [1,285 words]
White Icing by Sue (Sooz) Simpson - [1,385 words]
Until Tuesday by Alif Muhammad It is a work concerning a life that is altered completely by an event that reveals itself slowly ... [6,761 words]
Under The Whether by Sue (Sooz) Simpson - [1,626 words]
They Stole It From Me by Peter Izdebski A moment stolen; one which could have answered all that I needed to know; a moment which ... [960 words]
The Video Store Girl Part 1 by David MacDonald An employee at a video store meets a man who has different tastes in movies than sh... [3,786 words]
The Magic Mirror by Kurt Kitasaki A short story on the real priorities of athletes. [211 words]
The Joker by Sue (Sooz) Simpson - [2,032 words]
The Hour Of Its Birth Is The Hour Of Its Death... by Bruce E Losis Jr A short story... [667 words]
The Eleventh Child by Seventh Star Personal experiences from being the "baby" of a large family. [858 words]
Sunglasses by Fergus O'Ferguson The Sun can be hot. This might leave you feeling very cold. Sunglasses often help if your eyes are h... [3,311 words]
Scars On Scarlet by Andrea Diane Brown This is a short story I wrote on self mutilation. [804 words]
Part 4 Conclusion by David MacDonald The conclusion to The Video Store Girl. [3,679 words]
Part 3 by David MacDonald The Third part of The Video Store Girl. [2,934 words]
Part 2 by David MacDonald The Second part of The Video Store Girl. [3,994 words]
Once by Lawrence Peters For you. Always. [317 words]
Machines - A Short Short Tale by David B Doc Byron A freelance strongarm protects the tenants in his building. [499 words]
Life In Puerto Rico by Kelly McMonagle This is a short story about the three years I lived in Puerto Rico. [575 words]
Life Drawing by David MacDonald A woman, a model for a life drawing class, meets the man who drew her figure the best. [4,195 words]
Keep Your Enemies Close by Hope C Clarke - [3,437 words]
Handicapped - A Short Short Tale by David B Doc Byron An internet pornographer learns the errors of his ways. [554 words]
Ghost Town - Part Two by David B Doc Byron Lexxus Machine, the sorcerer who overlooks the ghost town, awaits the Darkman's arrival. [406 words]
Ghost Town - Part Three by David B Doc Byron Lexxus and the darkman finally meet on the streets of the ghost twon for the final show... [314 words]
Ghost Town - Part One by David B Doc Byron A futuristic bounty hunter seeks a legendary ghost town where a sorcerer supposedly can a... [527 words]
Genesis by B M Gerstenblith A symbolic parable, set in our time, meaningful throughout time, comtemplating the very end of time. [595 words]
Dinner Is Served by David B Doc Byron A small group of monsters gather at Dracula's castle for a Halloween dinner. [177 words]
Daynight by Adam Lear A world in which true destinies are unknown until just the right time. [4,128 words]
Darkness In Death And Dissolution by Norman A Rubin Retribution through the power of the judge of hell upon the act of murder. [2,447 words]
Contemplation by Musau This little story was written in rhyme over twenty years ago. Basically, the title sums it all u... [754 words]
Chipping Away The Truth by Jonathan McCullough I wrote this short story when I was supposed to be writing an essay for english. I woul... [1,217 words]
Bio Incubus by Michael S Upchurch A subterranean nightmare with catastrophic effects. [2,494 words]
A Tiny Mistake by Rachel V Hatch This is a funny, true story that actually happened to the author in her younger years. [205 words]
A Beautiful Thing by Ben Jonjak A girl picks a flower in a park despite her boyfriends objection and finds there is an unexpe... [996 words]
The Wildwood - A ''Short Short'' Tale. by David B Doc Byron After hundreds of years of being hunted for sport by man, wild animals p... [423 words]
The Red Moon - A ''Short Short'' Tale. by David B Doc Byron An ancient werewolf plans to plant hia seed in a new bloodline. [440 words]
No Good Bye by Rick Mantilla Just a story. [1,878 words]
Nasal Therapy by Michael S Upchurch Spooky story about a doctor's last day on the job. [1,657 words]
Interlude by Judith Goff Chance encounters can be dangerous.... [172 words]
Goldy's Last Goose by Gerald L Bosacker GOLDY’S LAST GOOSE (1666 Words) Bill Seeger sliced the home made bread carefully cutting... [1,681 words]
Gazabelle's Last Spell by J Brian Chamberlin Gazabelle is an aging wizard who finds he no longer fits in the new ways of the world. B... [7,691 words]
Belt A Fat Comedian by Gerald L Bosacker While attending the University of Minnesota, I was side-tracked from academics by economic ... [2,333 words]
A Sandy Surprise by Sara Burling A young girl in search of something she lost long ago. [807 words]
A Funny Memory by Jacqueline Anel Sheppard Chris gets stuck in a tree... how do his sisters pull him out? [639 words]
Soliloquy by Judith Goff A woman seeking love, finds more than she expected. [173 words]
Zipperhead by David B Doc Byron A woman attempts to hide the fact she has a son who's tastes in food tend to lean towards... uh... t... [2,186 words]
Watching And Waiting by Sue (Sooz) Simpson - [1,253 words]
Tusk by Sue (Sooz) Simpson - [1,012 words]
Tiny Pink Pills by Sunny Ain't life a bytch!!! [757 words]
The Weapon Of Hope by Jeffrey (George) Winter When all else fails, there is hope. Three short stories reveals where lies ours. [1,385 words]
The Sacred Cup by Francis James Chudley A short story set in a magical world the story revolves around our young hero Lippin. I wont tel... [5,513 words]
The Day Of The Sun by Kelly Allen Well, let's see. I swear I was possessed when I wrote this... this is not how I normally wri... [861 words]
The Day I Was Destined To Fly by Francis James Chudley This is the story which goes with the poem Casualty. It is an account of when I h... [1,185 words]
Swimming Lessons by Alan Johnson A short story about the life lessons I learned at swimming as a young boy and how I applied th... [1,131 words]
Strawman by David B Doc Byron A scarecrow comes to life and desires freedom. [960 words]
Slug Jam For Grown-Ups by Rowan Davies Jessica is a perfect, pretty fourteen year old girl. After years of over-protection from... [5,502 words]
Redemption Part Two by David B Doc Byron An ex-hitman grows a heart. [203 words]
Redemption Part Three by David B Doc Byron An ex-hitman reflects back on his past. [683 words]
Redemption Part Four by David B Doc Byron An ex-hitman recieves an offer he cant refuse. [345 words]
Redemption Part 0ne by David B Doc Byron A hitman looks back on his past to realize he possess's something he didnt knew he had; a h... [869 words]
Our Friend Steven by John J Yezman My story speaks of the special relationship of three Catholic elementary school friends set i... [3,268 words]
My Uncle Louie, The Goniff by Norman A Rubin A humourous piece of a man who finds hard luck in the committing of criminal acts. A... [1,847 words]
Milk by Robert Hansford Everyday life isn't often easy, especially when you have a drug addiction, even if it only milk. [376 words]
Memoirs From The Row by David B Doc Byron A man in prison awaiting death reflects back on the reason he was doing time. Killing. [1,241 words]
Meat by David B Doc Byron A man loses his grip on reality after a tragic accident. [704 words]
Losing Control by Alicia Jones A girl's struggle to gain control of her life. [4,070 words]
Jingle Bell by Sunny Even simple liquieds have adverse effects on this universe. [537 words]
Her Name Is ... by Austin Oghenekevwe Osoroh Leoman Valloway It is a story centred on the emotions of a crippled woman; it is a perspEctive into the mind se... [1,245 words]
Headshot by David B Doc Byron A drug crazed lunatic on the run from the law hides out inside a wax museum. [1,055 words]
Hannibal, Revisited by David B Doc Byron Hannibal Lector recieves a very surprising phone call from an old friend. [515 words]
Grandma's Garden by Ken Whan Childhood. [1,937 words]
Go To Sleep by Michael S Upchurch A man with amnesia struggles to retain his sanity in his surrealistic world. [3,120 words]
Freakazoid by David B Doc Byron a man with a grudge becomes unhinged and plans to get revenge on the people who exploited his deform... [301 words]
Frankenstien by David B Doc Byron Two hitmen are in the process of disposing of a body, when the tides are turned with a twist endin... [880 words]
Feverblues by David B Doc Byron A small group of people left after a holocaust find ''alternative'' ways to survive. [1,333 words]
End Of The Search by Ramkumar Menon An Indian Boy. Lost Childhood. Search for the bygone days. The search was on. Is Ramu success... [1,202 words]
Dolls by David B Doc Byron Dolls in a toy store come to life under a witches spell and wreak havoc. [1,226 words]
Devronne (Sample Work) by Jacqueline Anel Sheppard Devronne is obsessed in obtaining his deceased wife's manor and nothing will get in his ... [2,814 words]
Devo-1959 by David B Doc Byron A man attempts to teach his robot how to drive a car. [835 words]
Champagne Secrets by Sassy Writer The story of two star crosses lovers enjoying an evening of passion and love. [953 words]
Bloody Retribution by Rowan Davies A man avenges the death of his father. [493 words]
Ant's Fortune by Michael S Upchurch Vacationers have a big problem with an ant covered fortune cookie [2,326 words]
Another Dead Weekend by David B Doc Byron A bored man wanders the streets of his hometown looking for a way to cure boredom. [509 words]
Abra Cadaver by David B Doc Byron an evil ventriloquist turns a man into wood. [874 words]

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Ed's Gift
An insignificant man imparts the truth of wisdom and peace.
[1,308 words]
Jeffrey (George) Winter
Journalist, counselor, author.
[May 2003]
[email protected]
Heaven Is Hell's Fire (Poetry) - [108 words] [Spiritual]
Justice Come Due (Poetry) God's reply to justice. [95 words] [Spiritual]
Love Denied (Poetry) - [171 words] [Spiritual]
Strength's Illusion (Essays) A visit with a disabled friend: How our understandings of strength affect our relationships. [1,696 words] [Spiritual]
The Adventure Of Human Freedom (Essays) As title indicates. [1,149 words] [Spiritual]
The Power Of Surrender (Short Stories) A good man takes on evil. [1,431 words] [Spiritual]
The Way We Actually Were (Short Stories) Recollections from a veteran of the Third Reich. [1,337 words] [History]
The Weapon Of Hope (Short Stories) When all else fails, there is hope. Three short stories reveals where lies ours. [1,385 words] [Spiritual]
Tied By The Heart (Essays) Does our freedom ensnares us? [1,128 words] [Spiritual]
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Ed's Gift
Jeffrey (George) Winter

    “The wind don’t need the sailor,” he said between sips of beer, “but without the wind, the sailor is lost.”
    In the background, pool balls cracked against each other, voices shouted over the blare of music and bells rang out on pinball machines next to the restroom. Outside, a soft rain fell on the dirty South Chicago streets. I glanced at the long-haired fellow sitting to my left and then back at the bony, angular old man sitting on my right.
    “What was that Ed?” I asked in surprise figuring my friend had tipped one too many, “Wind, sailors, what are you talking about? I think it’s time to go home.”
    He stared back at me like a man does when he’s said something important but the recipient just didn’t catch the significance. “You gotta work early tomorrow?” he asked, “If not, let’s take a little walk.”
    I did have to get back to the church first thing the next day for a council meeting. Something I rarely looked forward to given the absence of any genuine communication much less any authentic progress toward “bringing people to Christ”. Which was after all our mission, or so said the statement adorning the wall in the beautiful old church lobby.
    What the heck, I figured, I didn’t need much sleep for that and so agreed.
    “Where should we go?” I asked Ed as he stepped off his bar stool.
    “Down by the lake,” was all he said, gulping his glass clean and then wiping his mouth with a dirty, ragged sleeve.
    “Okay by me,” I replied sliding off my barstool, “Let’s go, it’s getting late.”
    As the door closed behind us, the noisy racket drifted away and in its stead, we were greeted by a silent, clearing sky and gentle wind that creased the puddles. Aside from a few cars whose tires whooshed through the wet streets, the only sounds were those of our worn boots against pavement. And the soft, gentle wind.
    Neither of us said a word for two blocks as we crossed the last street before entering Calumet Park which sat on the edge of Lake Michigan. A few cars crawled around the park, their distant headlights the only thing breaking the fog’s darkness. Across the bay, dim beams highlighted the lake’s mist as they coursed through the night from the few remaining factories operating on their third shift.
    “Listen,” Ed said, face bearing a weathered smile that wore more defeats than victories, “Isn’t it beautiful?”
    My ears strained to pick up whatever it was that brought him so much delight. And I heard…nothing. Just silence. Broken by the wind and heightened by the contrast of an occasional fog horn or muffled car engine.
    Strangely though, the empty silence seemed to hold a mysterious allure.
    Maybe it was the escape from the everyday rush and bustle of Chicago. Or a momentary refuge from the pressures of trying to accomplish a thousand and one things at the understaffed church that carried more expectations than it could reasonably expect to fulfill.
    Maybe it was any of a million different cares being put aside for a moment. Finding a brief respite in the fog and night that stilled them.
    Whatever it was, I had to admit it was enjoyable. As our steps neared a breaker at the park’s southeast corner, we slowed to a stop. Moving to the edge of the breaker, Ed lifted his eyes far over the murky water as waves smacked dead fish eerily against the cement structure.
    I watched as his glance peered from north to south and then back again. Taking in the distant lights shrouded by fog, the muffled ship horns and the coursing waves. And from the look his eyes, much more.
    Stepping away from water’s edge, Ed turned and examined me through the heavy mist. Looking back, I noticed his eyes. They held a tear. And as it dropped, more followed.
    “You must see this!” he said, extending his beaten old hand and guiding me to breaker’s edge. Upon his grip’s release, I felt its reassuring warmth leave my hand as I stood alone looking out over the black sea of water, churned now by an increasingly fierce wind that whipped large raindrops on my unprotected head. It was growing colder and the water’s edge felt bleak and dangerous.
    Yet, I couldn’t move. Didn’t want to move. Something held me there, something akin to awe. Or reverence. Or gratitude. Those things my fellow church workers preached about time and again but never seemed able to find or by that, share.
    Perhaps they’d never been to water’s edge. Or maybe it was something else. Whatever it was, I felt a strange twinge of pity for even the most difficult of my co-workers and fellow missionaries. In all likelihood, they’d never found this “place” through all their years of studying, preaching, debating and searching because going to the water’s edge wouldn’t fit in. In fact, that was what they proposed to rescue “lost” people from in their ambitious and justified gatherings.
    Lost in this new yet somehow ancient wonder, I listened breathlessly and without effort. Like a chorus of celebration, the wind strummed firmly but gently as the waves struck the breaker in unison. Intermittent horns interjected a harmonic beat and the steady rain provided a constant and soothing background.
    For what seemed forever but was actually only a minute, I stood entranced by the awesome and profound simplicity enveloping me. Swept away by the stillness within the chorus around me, carried away by peacefulness and its quiet and seemingly endless source. Ed watched with the same delight he held moments earlier when he himself was on water’s edge.
    “You see now,” he said with a knowing glance, smile melting the fog, “I think it’s time to head home. You’ve got a meeting.”
    So I did. And so he knew. How very much he knew!
    And he’d known for some time. Of peace and truth and value. And the simplicity of wisdom. Yet few would hear, fewer still would acknowledge.
    He didn’t wear the right clothes. He’d taken too many wrong turns on life’s road. He just didn’t look the part of sage and hadn’t earned the right to be heard. As many of my more stellar counterparts at the church and mission had often observed, “He’s insignificant and aimless, best avoided.”
    We shook hands and patted each other on the shoulder as we regularly did in parting. I told Ed I’d see him on the streets in a couple of days. Then we departed in opposite directions.
    Walking away into the now perfectly still and rainless night, I heard a soft gentle wind blowing through the trees leaves. My thoughts turned to the upcoming meeting, the arguments, the egos, the self-righteousness. The waste. I realized I couldn’t do much about it because, like Ed, I now knew too much to so squander my precious time. I knew too that those squabbles never mattered, no matter how justified they seemed. Only one thing did, ever had or ever will.
    Which this silent night had taught me. Time was not really mine to be lorded over others with smooth speech, canny verbosity, veiled power and whatever mechanism I might employ under the name of righteousness and evangelization. No, this time wasn’t mine nor was it’s gift to me to be used as I saw fit or perhaps, only when I saw fit. It wasn’t mine at all nor had it ever been.
    It was this silent night’s. From whose stillness whispered the Voice of timelessness, echoing above every limit and discord, every defeat and destruction, every fear and sorrow.
    From the within the clatter and turbulence surrounding it, speaking out softly but firmly. About humility, its price and its victory.



"Is this about the purity of time? Interesting imagery the waves and the rain. A little awkward in places, "glance peered?" glance swept or wandered but not peered. That's like triping on something in the dark..oops. Liked the first scene with the pool balls and the bells, very descriptive. And the characterization of self righteousness, that was transparent. Promising. " -- Shelley, Fullerton, California, USA.


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© 2002 Jeffrey (George) Winter
January 2003

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