Bless you

chief said. “I want to remind you that discretion is essential under the circumstances. Otherwise, this ghost thing could turn into a real media freak show.” “You got it, Chief,” Dad agreed. “Our conversation is strictly off the record.” He was a reporter for the Covert Times and a wannabe TV sports anchor with a stack of applications to prove it. “Thanks.” Chizelmen’s SUV squealed around a corner. “Were you at Willaston last night, Madison?” “Yes,” I said.…

supported. The minimal encourager seemed to be effective. However, it seemed that the client continued her statement afterwards. I could have used silence. CL: No. She doesn’t… I don’t ask her money or nothing. CO: Okay. So is that something that you are not comfortable with doing with your mom? Minimal encourager, Open-ended question The counselor intended to allow the client to expand on her thoughts. It seemed as if she was reluctant to talk about her mother. The counselor asked an…

twist, here are 22 life lessons I have learned after being betrayed. 1 When it's the end of the night and everyone has left, you only have yourself. But remember that’s not always a bad thing. 2 You can’t act like everything is fine and you are happier than ever on social media just because you are hoping one particular person is going to see it.…

It all began with a simple phone call one night after dinner. “Joe,” Joe’s father hollers up the stairs, “it’s for you. It’s Jackie, and she sounds upset.” As Joe comes downstairs to pick up the phone, he is not happy. Joe is tired and had looked forward to a nice quiet evening at home, not another useless adventure with Jackie. Thirty minutes later, however, Jackie’s 2007 black Ford Escape swings into Joe’s driveway, and Jackie is leaning on the horn before the car can come to a full stop. Joe…

many years have passed since you been gone, pa,” he continued, “I still can’t forgive them for what they did to you. This town, they treated you wrong. They painted a portrait of you that didn’t exist. Scary black man with violent tendencies. You deserved better, hell, you deserved justice.” He squatted down and pulled out the grass covering part of his name, “Ma never let me forget what a good man you were. She never wanted me thinking you were the man Maycomb portrayed you as. Ma never lied,…

He tried to come in and we had to push him back out. I asked him "Who are you? Why are you harassing us?" The man did not respond so I asked him again, “Who are you? And why are you harassing us?" His response really freaked me out. He replied, “I am Bobo. I am running from the police and need you to hide me in your house?" "No!" we both screamed as we slammed the door in his face. We then heard sirens in the distance that sounded like…

That is a risk I am not willing to take. Taking care of the family is my priority. You and Himat need the money I can provide by obeying orders.” Himat, upstairs, listened with a heartache, to his bedroom to sleep. Later that night, Himat was in bed, when he heard ever so silent “No matter what happens to me,” encouraged his mother…

It all began with a simple phone call one night after dinner. “Bark bark,” Robert hollered up the stairs, “bark bark bark bark.” Which I could only assume meant “Number Seven, it’s for you. It’s Hugo, and she sounds pissed.” As I came down the stairs to pick up the phone, I was not motivated to go on another “adventure” after the last few times. I was tired and had looked forward to a nice quiet evening at home, not another stupid adventure with Hugo. Thirty minutes later, however, Hugo’s…

Rosalind Franklin’s story started in Notting Hill, London, United Kingdom. Her full name was Rosalind Elsie Franklin, and she was born to a rather conspicuous British Jewish family on July 25, 1920. The second of five children, three boys and two girls. Daughter of Muriel and Ellis Franklin, both of her parents originated from Jewish families that settled in England in the 1700s and 1800s. Her guardians owned banks and publishing companies. They were both educated and companionable people.These…

from the crowd that had gathered for this event addressed me. Tracking the sound, I found a well-dressed man approaching, possibly thirty or so years old, with solid black well maintained hair, and a wide mouth from which he spoke again. "Who might you be?" The man inquired standing before me, his query drawing the attention of most of the individuals within the room. "This letter arrived four days ago?" I responded presenting the summons for David McNeil, the favored…