Shoplifter, storm chaser, practical joker, identifiable face in the clouds

Flashlights, spam, backpacks, sleeping bags, assorted snacks, and lots of warm clothes were pilling high into my shopping cart. People who stopped to make small talk all ways assumed I was going camping and usually looked at my stuff and remarked, “I here its going to rain this weekend, you might want to bring an extra raincoat.” To this I always smiled and said “oh really, thank you”, but of course I already knew, because in fact I wasn’t going camping. No, I was pursing a different passion. A passion of thrill seeking and adventure, I am a storm chaser. In that moment my friend Ginny came around the corner holding two pairs of bright red waterproof underwear, resembling the fabric of a tarp. She held them up high with a goofy grin and suggestively moved her eyebrows up and down. We both burst and out giggles and added them to our load. Ginny was a practical joker to the max and I loved taking her with me on the scary storm trips. She always lightened the mood, even with a tornado only a couple 100 yards away. But this time we were seeking out Hurricane Irene. She was a category three hurricane currently rising in the Atlantic and we were driving to the coast of north Carolina, about 2 hours away, tonight to wait for her to hit land. The now made there way to the photo isle and stocked up on film. Another benefit of my passion is that it has been profitable. I have my own photography website where I have sold several pictures of tornados, hurricanes and other tropical storms. But still I wasn’t exactly riding high on the tides of financial stability. I hate feeling weak and poor so in my weakness I had a minor habit of stealing. I mean I have given to the community through hours of community service and volunteering at the local church for day camps for kids. I always justify it with the fact that I shouldn’t suffer when I have given so much of my time to others, and so this habit began. It mainly comes in the form of shoplifting. The first time it happened it was an accident; I had absent-mindedly walked out of a drugstore with a pair of sunglasses I had tried on top of my head. When I realized what I had done I was shocked but it was thrilling, like a mini storm experience. The storm chasing is good for me because it satisfies all the impulsiveness. All the thrill is amplified in driving down a highway with no one and on your right seeing the highway jam packed full of evacuees staring at you zoom by while they are stuck. The way my heart jumps with delight as the storm starts and Mother Nature releases her wrath all around and life comes down to pure survival, its almost primitive. Whatever it is, to me, it is a hobby and it was the last thing my dad and I did together before he died. We shared 17 hours together in the basement of an old church during a tornado in 2009 and we bonded. Despite our newfound relationship God had other plans. My dad died suddenly of a heart attack a year later. Now I had Ginny to come with me and we had fun. She has come with me on four escapades so far and each one was a success in my book, good pictures, good times, and obviously survival. As we checked out with all our gear needed for our storm adventure Ginny raddled off about having jitters about hearing the storm was growing stronger. We loaded all the stuff into my red faded Honda crv and headed on our way. Two lucky blue gatorades in the cup holders, our traditional drink of choice on each storm trip. As we drove down the long highway I gazed at the clear blue sky and spotted a single cloud and gasped. The cloud looked as if it has shifted into an image of my dads face, smiling.

Episcopal High School story

Entering through the small pink doors a pale blue mouse strode proudly into his world. Purple mice fluttered merrily around the lawn. It was spring in Cherry Mont and the residents were outside enjoying the weather. Swinging from the delicate branchy trees were all the young mice of Cherry Mont. Cupping his paws around his mouth the pale blue mouse called the attention of the town. Openly curious, beady eyes stared back at him. Pleased with the attention he announced that he would be going on an adventure. All of the town cheered and asked many questions. Like, when will you go sir and why? How will you travel, will you bring companions? Engulfed in the sea of questions the pale blue mouse shrugged and said I am going in pursuit of knowledge. Great numbers of mice begged him to take them with him but he refused. He wanted to take this journey solo. So many years had gone by where this pale blue mouse had been surrounded by the loving mice of Cherry Mont and he needed to get away. Cut off from security and all comfort and escape to a world unknown was where he headed. He walked to the edge of the beach got in a small blue boat and sailed into the deep blue mystery. Ocean living was quiet; calm waves slinked around the boat. Open waters and an open agenda awaited this pale blue mouse. Leaving his home was his independent choice and the mystery, dangers, and fears of the world awaited him.

Final Short Story

Where did it go? I scratched my rough unshaved jaw, and pulled on an old faded t-shirt from a video game competition I had won a while back. I sorted thorough the files I could have accidentally placed it in but I knew I had saved it on to my desktop. As I reached to take a sip of the coke sitting on the monitor, I caught my brother subtly glance up at me from the room across the hall. My hands dropped their pursuit of caffeine and pursued a new target. “Henry, where did it go,” I enunciated slowly and ominously. My brother stood there nervously with his eyes shifting back and forth, “I, uh ,” he stammered. Having my younger brother staying with me for the week was bad enough and now he was messing my things. Last night I had received a call from a mysterious agency, offering me five grand if I would develop a special program for them. Seeing as I have been crawling deeper and deeper into a variety of debts, I accepted this offer without a second thought. They emailed me the information I needed, with a encrypted server backup, basically impossible to trace. Despite the warning signs of illegal activity and the secret identity my new clients hid behind, I needed the money and it seemed easy enough. They had me set up a virtual game. It was a minefield of stimulating challenges and problems that an agent could advance through to display his skills and decisions making qualities. I was proud of it, this creation of mine that I had finished in a mere 18 hours. It was complex and high quality, but now it was missing. After interrogating Henry I did find out a few things. First of all, as Henry promised over and over, he did not move or delete the game; but he did use it. Henry had brought over his friend Steve, who is notorious for being forgetful. He had left the game up and told Henry that he explained the whole game to the some “guys” who asked about it. With this knowledge I started to feel nervous. How could these strange men have known about my game? And for Pete’s sake, why can’t Steven just keep his mouth shut? All in a moment the door handle raddled and burst open. I’m standing there in shock and two men roughly grab me. Although my voice seems to fail me at this moment my body is released from the shock and I try to wiggle out of the clamps on my arms. It too late. As I’m being dragged down the flight of stairs leading down to the ground level of my apartment I see a black car. From the large variety of action movies I’ve watched, I know it is meant for me. They toss me in the car and we zoom off. I thought I was dreaming, it felt like I had been dropped into a James bond film, but instead of a cool hero, I had become the victim. I sat up in the car and adjusted to my dim surrounds as my voice returned to me I yelled weakly, “hey what’s going on.” One of the men sitting in the passenger seat smirked back at me and my bulging confused eyes, trying to retrieve some sort of information from him. He looked back to the road ahead, and in a thick Slovak accent said, “ you ‘ave gotten your self into trouble.” As the car drove on reality sunk in and I felt like I was drowning, I had become a prisoner of war.

Short story start

Where did it go? I scratched my rough unshaved jaw, and pulled on an old faded t-shirt from a video game competition I had won a while back. I sorted thorough the files I could have accidentally placed it in but I knew I had saved it to my desktop. As I reached to take a sip of the coke sitting on the monitor I caught my brother subtly glance up at me from the room across the hall. My hands dropped their pursuit for the caffeine and pursued a new target, Henry. “Henry, where did it go,” I enunciated slowly and ominously. My brother stood there nervously with his eyes shifting back and forth, “I, uh ,” he stammered. Having my younger brother staying with me for the week was bad enough and now he was messing my things. Last night I had received a call from a mysterious agency, offering me five grand if I would develop a special program for them. Seeing as I have been crawling deeper and deeper into a variety of debts, I accepted this offer without a second thought. They emailed me the information I needed, with a encrypted server backup, basically impossible to trace. Despite the warning signs of illegal activity and the secret identity my new clients hid behind, I needed the money and it seemed easy enough. They had me set up a virtual game. It was a minefield of stimulating challenges and problems that an agent could go through to display his skills and decisions making quality. I was proud of it, this creation of mine that I had finished in a mere 18 hours, was complex and high quality, but now it was missing.