beta key for a lucky person

So i was washing my hands in the bathroom and the electricity went out. I splashed my pants and my mom was like "u peed yourself? lol"

True story, bro.

I just want to add that english is not my native language, so please don't be too harsh with grammatical mistakes or wrong vocabulary. :)

"

Meradanis wrote:

I came home late last night, only my vigilant cat noticed my return at all. Life has been a real downer recently, I barely managed to keep myself afloat doing double shifts at the market, while this city and the whole damn country goes down the drain.

I turned on the telly and entered the kitchen to prepare some food for the cat and myself. While the microwave made a soft humming noise, I finally found the time to check the mail. Between all the bills and repeated reminders, one important-looking express delivery caught my eye:

Mr. Thomas Johnson
203 East 50th St.
Balytimore, MD 21263
USA

Dear Mr. Johnson,

from what I understand, you've been a close friend to Edward while you were still living here. I found your address in his notebook, and sincerely hope that it is still accurate.

It saddens me to inform you that my husband has passed away, the burial service will take place friday the 27th, St. Patrick church, starting at 6 pm.

I hope you will join me and his family in our attempt to remember Edward Wilson as the great man he was.

Yours truly,
Aileen Wilson

I stared at the damn thing in disbelief, for how long I cannot tell. After seconds/minutes/hours, I grabbed the phone and told the market manager that I would need some days off.

---------------------------------------------

Sunday evening, after a tedious five hour drive on the highway, I came home again. This time, not even the cat noticed my return, she was probably out hunting some rodents. My neighbor Mrs. Eastwick took care of feeding her while I was attending the burial.

She had even gathered the mail for me, which lay stacked most accurately next to my apartment door. I grabbed the whole bundle and entered. The screen of the telly was dark, as was my mood. Between all the junk mail, I found one handwritten letter. The lines were a bit blurry, only after I realized who had written them, my hands started to tremble:

Thomas Johnson
203 East 50th St.
Balytimore, MD 21263
USA

Hey Tommy,

I really have trouble writing these lines, but you're the only one I can talk about this stuff. Being married to Aileen has not been what I have been expecting at all. You know, I should be the happiest man alive, because this woman seems to be a dream come true.

But somehow, she's not. Shortly after our honey moon, I caught the flu. Well at least that's what I've been thinking back then, but that feeling of being ill never went away. Instead, it gets worse now every day. I feel empty, like my batteries have been totally depleted. Even writing these few lines took me almost an hour.

Damn, I hear someone at the door, I guess she is coming home. I can tell you, when she is in the house, I suddenly feel like an old man, even my joints are aching. I don't know what is is, but something is very wrong with this woman.

I have to finish now, please promise me to give me a call. I know your busy at work, but I really need to talk to someone.

Eddy

We have a winner for this round but keep writing, Friday I might give more. I read this twice and it was great.

The battle for Wolfhead Pass -

I was exhausted. My sword felt like it weighed a ton, my legs were made of rubber and my arms of lead. I surveyed the chaos around me. The Kings' Regiment was down to only a few squads. My shield mate lay at my feet with a crude spear in his gut. A pile of Orc bodies lay not far away, several feet high already.

The Orcs out on the other side of the pass looked like they were psyching up for another charge. Any human band of marauders would have broke and ran with the ruinous casualty rate we have inflicted on them. For every man that fell, he took several Orcs with him. Training and discipline pays off in combat, it's just too bad that the Orcs won't give up.

I looked toward the group of Orcs as I heard a loud bellowing from around the bend of the pass. An ogre! I should have known. The beast was at least three times the height of a man, and eight times as massive. An unusually large creature, even for an ogre. Backed by an ogre, Orcs would fight endlessly. The ogre pushed it's to the front of the Orcs. Letting out another war cry it charged forward brandishing a huge club with large iron spikes driven through the head.

I gestured for the archers to fire on the ogre, hoping to get lucky and get an eye. No such luck today, unsurprisingly. I fall in line with my troops to repel the Orcs yet again. A captain of the King's Regiment learns to fight with his troops, not stand back and watch. I feel my exhaustion drain away, knowing that it'll come back after combat and much worse then. If we survive.

Only twenty paces away. Fifteen. Ten. "For the Empire!" I shout, leading the charge into fray. Ducking a thrown spear I lash out with my longsword catching the nearest Orc in the arm. The enchanted blade glides through the crude armor effortlessly and severs the limb. Raising my shield to block another Orcs axe, I sever the luckless Orcs leg. Dispatching the two mortally wounded beasts quickly, I angle towards the ogre.

Taking a man down with every swing of his monstrous club, the ogre is surrounded by several crushed bodies. A few of them are even Orcs, I noticed as I rushed forward.

I dodged a swipe of the club and make a stab at the ogres' leg, hoping to hamstring it. My blade impacts on the hide and slices barely a hands breadth in. Besides the increased size, the ogre appears to be much tougher as well. Nothing is ever easy.

Staying withing the reach of the club and dodging fists the size of my torso I stab and slash at the ogre. A death by a thousand cuts is as good as a death by one. Unfortunately the regiment doesn't look like it could hold out much longer. Several more men were down and the Orcs just kept on coming.

Ducking under another swing from the club, I swipe upwards with my sword, catching the ogre on the inside of the wrist severing tendons. The club crashes to the ground as the monster bellows in rage.

Leaping forward I stab at the ogres exposed gut. The blade slides in with some resistance. I twist as I pulled back but the blade is stuck. The ogre hits me in the shoulder with his uninjured hand. It felt like I was hit by a run-away cart! I fly back and land several feet from the ogre. I could tell my right arm was broken in several places and from the way I was having trouble breathing, at least a few ribs as well.

Looking on hopelessly, I watched the ogre advance on me. Raising his foot to crush me beneath it, he grins at me triumphantly.


That's it for now, I'll leave it on a cliffhanger. Also I should mention that I met this months bandwidth limit, so my download speed is drastically reduced (Down to like 20 kb/s). It may take awhile to download the client and game.

Edit: Damn, a minute late. Wish I typed faster.

Keep posting stories and friday you might be lucky

You'r the lucky one Meradanis congratulations, I will be catch any one in the Timer ^^.

English is not mt mother tongue, but what the hell eh? Let's give this a try!

I was being followed. I sat there by myself drinking coffee at a cafe I stumbled on to at random, when I noticed someone staring at me while I was not looking. I saw it from the corner of my eye.
At first of course I didn't think much of it, but after I left, I felt a strange feeling of being followed. When I turned to look if there really was someone following me, I saw nothing. Only a crowd of people going toward the direction I came from. I was like a tourist on the busy streets of Tokyo or New York, moving against currents and waves of people rushing in my direction.
I was nervous. I thought there definitely has to be some one pursuing me and there was.
Adrenaline only rushed through me as I picked up the pace trying to get a frequent glimpse of the stalker that obsessively tagged along my tail.
And then I saw him. The same guy who was staring at me back over at the cafe.
He was a middle-aged man with long rugged hair and covering some of it was a dirty beanie.
He must have not been shaving for months cause his think beard was quite long and there was something in his beard that seemed like some leftovers from a sandwich I saw him eat at the cafe. I could even almost see the beard growing.
He wore an old sports jacket covered in holes.
And his pants weren't any better either.

While pursuing me he had a crazy look in his eyes. Almost as if he was lost on the plain of existence looking nourishment and self-release through sadistic ways that are not looked kindly upon.
He clearly was an outcast of the society, but I had no time to pity him, cause I thought he might be the end of me.
Soon I started to run and in the crowds confusion tried to slip away in an alley. It was not the best choice, cause all of the witnesses were out from sight and I didn't even come to think of the fact that this alleyway might very well be a dead-end.
All I was hoping for now was that I'd get home safe or find someone in the alleyway to call for help.

As I turned from left to right, looking a way out of this dark place filled with cats and mice, I found the way out.
I was relieved and already felt better, thinking I escaped from, what might have been certain death by the hands of a fellow man.

Walking straight home, now with my guard lowered, I suddenly, while passing a phone booth, felt a think sharp pain going from my back to my arms. I fell to the ground, barely on my knees, bleeding to death. I slowly, but surely turned to look at whoever shanked me in the middle of the night, on my way home.
It was the same insane bum, I had encountered beforehand.
He reached for my pockets leaning over me and smelling hard from liquor. He searched my pockets for my wallet and once he found it, he took off in to the night. I was in shock. I couldn't comprehend the scene or even talk. All I could think of was crawling my way to help and get medical attention. For my folly, the closest hospital was 3 miles away and the closest police station even further away. I did not even know what had pierced my back in such horrible way, but death was certain if I didn't get the help I needed.

Due to the shock, panic and the blood loss I lost consciousness.
I woke up again in a hospital bed, with my mother and a doctor standing beside me.
Neither of them noticed that I had regained consciousness and being weak at that stage, I couldn't even move.
Once they noticed, my mom burst into tears and ran out of the room.
The doctor came to me and said 'You were very lucky to be alive. A young boy, maybe in your age, found you lying there with a screwdriver in your back'.
I was able to talk now a little and asked right away for the bum that did this to me and he replied: 'Yes we got a call, not much longer after your emergency, about a middle-aged drunk that got hit by a car and died on the scene'
I was relieved that one more scum of the society was gone from my hometown.
But the doctor continued and asked: 'Did you ever know your father well?'
I replied with: 'No. He was but in a mental-hospital when I was but a boy! Why do you ask, if I might know?'
'Well you see. The bum that stabbed you and later died in a car accident WAS your father. I take it that your mother didn't say this to you, but your father escaped from the mental institute a couple of years ago and they were unable to find him.'
I was sickened but confused at the same time, over how could a father do such a thing to his son.
Once I came back to my senses, I asked: 'When will I be able to get out of the hospital'
And the doctor answered: 'We still want to check you from time to time after you get out, but before that I recommend staying here for at least 3 weeks for the wound to heal'.

Now I'm just waiting here, in the hospital bed, writing in my journal that I asked my mother to bring me and only thinking about my father and my last 'reunion' with him, be as grim as it was.

hopefully, no one would fall asleep reading this one:


Basurero


Ever since I was diagnosed to have a possible heart
enlargement in the last APE, I have exerted more effort to do physical exercises. I do jogging on week days and do long - ride mountain biking every Sunday.

But this Sunday is a special Sunday to me. While I was on my way to the mountains of Busay (Cebu) hoping to strengthen my heart by the exercise, I, instead, personally encountered a heart- breaking scene
that changed me.

I already passed the Marco Polo Plaza (formerly Cebu Plaza Hotel) when I decided to stop to buy bananas at a small canteen located along the road. I haven't taken any solid food that morning so I needed fruits to have the needed energy to get to my destination - the
mountain top.

I was almost done eating with the second banana when I noticed two children across the street busily searching the garbage area.

"Basureros" I said to myself and quickly turned my attention away from them to sip a small amount of water.

I cared less for this kind of children actually; to make it straight, I do not like them, and I do not trust them even more.

You see, several times I have been a victim to this kind of children who pretend to be basureros looking for empty bottles and cans when in fact the 'plangganas' , 'kalderos', and hinayhays' are their favorites.

I remember one afternoon while I was watching a Mike Tyson fight when I noticed that the TV screen suddenly became blurred. I checked outside and saw two young basureros running away with my newly installed antenna.

Hatred may be a little bit stronger word to describe my feeling towards these basureros, but I do not like them honestly not until I met these three children.

I was about to embark on my bike again when I heard one of the two children, a girl of about 7 or 8 years of age saying aloud to the other, a 12-yr old boy, "Kuya, si dodong kunin mo kasi tumitingin sa mga kumain, nakakahiya", only then did I notice a small boy standing near me biting slightly his finger.

He's a few inches shorter if compared to my 5-year old niece (but I learned later that he's a year older). Though he did not ask for food to anyone in the
canteen, the way he looked at the customers who were eating, was enough to convince me that he was intensely craving for it.

The older boy then quickly crossed the street and gently pulled out the little one who politely obeyed.

As I watched the two crossing back the street to the garbage area, I heard the canteen assistant saying "Lo-oy kaayo nang mga bataa uy, mga buotan ra ba na"
(how unfortunate for these poor kids).

I learned further from the canteen owner that the children are from a good family, both parents were working before, and that their father had a stroke
3 years ago and became partially paralyzed and their mother died of heart failure while their father was still confined at the hospital.

The parents were still in their early forties when the catastrophe happened, and the children became basureros since then to meet their daily needs and for their father's medication.

Deeply moved by what I heard, I went to a nearby bread house and bought 20 pesos worth of bread and gave it to the children who initially refused including the little boy.

I explained that they need to go home because it was starting to rain . " Naanad na man mi ani " (We're used to it already) the girl answered again.

Again, I explained that the rain can make them sick and if they would become sick, there was no one to take care of their father.

Upon mentioning their father, they nodded and accepted the bread but I noticed that the older boy did not eat.

When I asked him if he does not like the kind of bread I bought for them he smiled but as he was about to explain, the little girl, who is the talker among them interrupted.

The young girl reasoned out that their father wanted her older brother to go to school with full stomach so he can easily catch up the teacher's lessons.

Maybe I was caught by surprise or I was just overly emotional that my tears started to fall. I then quickly turned my back to them to hide my tears and pretended to pick up my bike from the canteen where I left it.

I don't know how many seconds or minutes I spent just to compose myself; pretending again this time that I was mending by bike.

Finally I got on to my bike and approached the three children to bid goodbye to them who in turn cast their grateful smiles at me.

I then took a good look at all of them specially at the small boy and patted his head with a pinch in my heart. Though I believe that their positive look at life can easily change their present situation, there
is one thing that they can never change; that is, their being motherless.

That little boy can no longer taste the sweet embrace, care, and most of all, the love of his mother forever. Nobody can refill the empty gap created
by that sudden and untimely death of their mother. Every big events that will happen in their lives will only remind them and make them wish of
their mother's presence.

I reached in my pocket and handed to them my last 100 peso bill which I reserved for our bowling tournament. This time they refused strongly but I jokingly said to the girl "sumbagon ta ka on kung
di nimo dawaton" (I would hit you if you won't accept it!).

She smiled as she extended her hand to take the money. "Salamat noy makapalit gyud me ron ug tambal ni papa" (Thank you, we could use this to buy some medicine for our father), she uttered.

I then turned to the small boy and though he's a few feet away from me, I still noticed that while his right hand was holding the half - filled sack,
his left hand was holding a toy, a worn out toy car.

I waved my hands and said bye bye to him as I drove towards the mountains again. Did he just find the toy in the garbage area or the toy was originally his - when the misfortune did not take place yet? - I did not
bother to ask.

But one thing is crystal clear to me, that in spite of the boy's abnormal life, he did not give up his childhood completely. I can sense it by the way he
held and stared at his toy.

My meeting with the young basureros made me poorer by 100 pesos. But they changed me and made me richer as to lessons of life are concerned.

In them, I learned that life can changed suddenly and may caught me flat-footed. In them, I've learned that even the darkest side of life, cannot change the beauty of one's heart. Those three children, who
sometimes cannot eat three times a day, were still able to hold on to what they believe was right.

And what a contrast to most of us who are quick to point out to our misfortunes when caught with our mistakes. In them, I've learned to hope for things when things seem to go the other way.

Lastly, I know that God cares for them far more than I do. That though He allowed them to experience such a terrible life which our finite minds cannot comprehend, His unquestionable love will surely follow them through.

And in God's own time they will win.

The night was cold, it was dark, here in the frigged winters of Greece.

Alone in the snow covered plains. I lay in wait of rescue.

Wounded from an arrow to the knee, Blood poring out, it draws in the wolfs.

Surrounded by the pack, i reach for my sword.

Afraid for my life, i banged my sword against the metal of my breastplate, in attempt to scare them off, but to no avail.

They charged me, the smell of blood to strong, the urge to grate.

Afraid, i swag my sword like a wounded animal, i acted on instinct. Tried i fell in the snow, i could hear the breathing of the wolfs as they closed in.

Then right when i lost all hope, an arrow rushes past my face, into the packs leader. Startled i looked to find my brother, standing with an army over 9000.

This is my story, this is my legacy.

I am Kreig.

Once upon a time, I asploded.

THEE END