Miracles Short Story pt.1

             The phone was ringing off the hook as if someone had programmed it to never quit. The timer on the stove was going off with incessant beeping, and the baby upstairs was crying as if the world was coming to an end all around her. For Terri, it was all too much. She kept telling herself that if she could just get through this moment, just get through today, she would be fine. She could be happy again. She wanted to believe that this was all temporary, that somehow someway, it would get better. But she knew that it couldn't be true. Not for her. Not after the choices that she'd made. She'd gotten herself into this mess after all. If she was truly honest with herself, she would admit that her life was an all-deserved outcome of things that she had done. What did she expect?

            The reality of the situation was that she hated her life. Hated everything about it, hated herself. The only ray of sunshine, the only thing that kept her from jumping headfirst from the grips of her existence was Charlie. Charlie, her precious boy. He had just turned three the previous month, and though he was certainly a handful, he kept her going. Already without a father, she had to do everything in her power to save him the loss of his mother as well. She worked two jobs and sixty hours a week trying to ensure that he would have the best life possible. Terri knew one thing without a doubt. She would do anything in the whole world for Charlie, and nothing could keep her from him.

          The daily routine was exhausting, and always the same.  Terri would wake at 6:50 after catching a few medically-induced hours of sleep. After showering and doing her best to look like a respectable woman, she would strap Charlie into her old beat-up Chevy and drive him to daycare. Little Tyke's Child Center was perfect for them because it was perfectly placed between both of her jobs. Also, it was owned and operated by an older woman and her granddaughters, and was the only place she could afford to take him every day. Terri strapped Charlie into his car-seat, turned on the radio, and pulled out of the parking lot of their apartment building. It wasn't much but it was enough for the two of them. She drove towards the exit and waited to turn left at the stop sign. Charlie started to cry in the backseat. She looked back and tried to comfort him, but when she did she didn't notice her foot slip off of the break. As she was trying to calm Charlie down, the car started rolling out into the street. She started to feel it, and quickly turned around, but it wasn't quick enough. She looked just in time to see a truck coming toward them at full speed as if they hadn't seen them at all. She tried to break but she was already in the street and before she knew it, the truck was upon them. She screamed and grabbed the wheel, but the impact came and everything went black.

       
....To Be Continued...
           

Beginnings...

My imagination is constantly overflowing with stories, both fictional as well as non, and I must say that it is a great joy of my life. Through our imaginations, we are given the opportunity to travel and explore new cities, countries, worlds that we would never otherwise have the opportunity. We can experience love that we never even imagined possible, and meet people along the way that take up residence in our hearts and minds in unbelievable ways. Imagination can do the most impossible of things and bring your most wildest dreams to fruition. Imagination is the fuel behind all of the major revolutions and inventions that make up the history of our world. Your imagination is much more powerful than you think.

Imagination created the world. Imagination created YOU.

Why then, do we often come to a point in life where we are suddenly "too old" for using our imaginations?

This is a great tragedy. 

One of the best quotes that I have recently stumbled upon is from C.S. Lewis, a master of imagination if there ever was one:

Someday you will start being old enough to start reading fairy tales again.

This quote is quite short, but the implications are powerful. Here is another:

When I was ten, I read fairy tales in secret and would have been ashamed if I had been found doing so. Now that I am fifty, I read them openly. When I became a man I put away childish things, including the fear of childishness and the desire to be very grown up.

The simple fact is without imagination, we would not be here. The earth would not exist, along with everything else in the galaxies. We were placed here, purposefully, by One whose imagination knows no bounds. The question I am left with is this: if using imagination is good enough for the One who put us on this earth and created all that we see(and even that which we do not) why then is it not always acceptable to us? Why do we discourage others from exposure to things that may not be "real" in the historical sense but have so much reality in other ways? I remember in high school, coolness and grownupness were measured by all of the peers around you, and I very much doubt that I was measured highly by many of them. Nearly always having a book in my hand, most of them works of fiction, I was not one who would be considered cool by high school standards. But it was always worth it to me, and I have no regrets. It is not to say that I did not have friends, by no means is that true, however they were not great in number and we were not superbly high in the ranks of popularity. I am not here saying that the reasons for my unpopularity were solely based upon my passion for reading fiction, but what I am wondering is why is this so common? Why do we place negative stereotypes on people who like to read, even more so on those who may enjoy fantasy or science fiction? This seems to be particularly true with the younger generations. How can we change these attitudes in a widespread way, and encourage everyone to openly read and imagine?