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Fiction (Romance)
“What do you call a paper airplane that can’t fly?”
Jana Mead was already smiling, even as she turned from her computer to the man standing just inside her office.
“I don’t know,” she said, appreciating the happy anticipation that accompanied Rick’s unexpected visit. In the past couple of weeks, he’d stopped by a few times, always with a dad joke and an invitation to coffee or dinner or a picnic. So far she’d managed to resist saying yes to his very tempting suggestions, but even as she repeated, “What do you call a paper airplane that can’t fly?” she felt herself weakening.
“Stationery.”
She laughed. “Okay, I’m writing that one down. I may have to explain the difference between stationary and stationery to the younger ones, but my oldest niece will absolutely love the joke.”
“Excellent.” He stepped a little closer. “How’s it going?”
“Good. Busy, as always. What about you? How many lives did you save today?”
“Just a couple.”
Rick was a big-shot surgeon while she was a part-time medical billing clerk who spent her days fighting with insurance companies over coverage. Which one of these was not like the other? He was about five-ten with dark hair and eyes and an aura of quiet confidence. Fit without being too muscled, and good-looking enough to make a woman look twice.
“Impressive,” she told him.
He shrugged. “It’s just about the training and, you know, some skill.”
“I think it’s about more than that.”
He shoved his hands into his front pockets and drew in a breath. “I’ve asked you out three times, and you’ve said no every time. I get it. You’re not interested.”
Fiction (Children’s)
The Skin Horse had lived longer in the nursery than any of the others. He was so old that his brown coat was bald in patches and showed the seams underneath, and most of the hairs in his tail had been pulled out to string bead necklaces. He was wise, for he had seen a long succession of mechanical toys arrive to boast and swagger, and by-and-by break their mainsprings and pass away, and he knew that they were only toys, and would never turn into anything else. For nursery magic is very strange and wonderful, and only those playthings that are old and wise and experienced like the Skin Horse understand all about it.
“What is REAL?” asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. “Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?”
“Real isn’t how you are made,” said the Skin Horse. “It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.”
“Does it hurt?” asked the Rabbit.
“Sometimes,” said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. “When you are Real you don’t mind being hurt.”
Fiction (Horror)
The sound quieted, but its presence still hung in the air. The silence was so thick you could almost feel it. Lena took a step forward, although every move she made seemed to require an enormous effort.
“It’s just wood. An old house. Nothing else.” she said quietly, as if trying to convince herself more than the rest. Her voice sounded unnatural, almost drowned out by the atmosphere around them. Mark nodded, though he didn’t look convinced. Sophie lifted her camera, but did not dare to take another picture. Jakub and Christopher stood motionless, their faces tense and their eyes wide open.
Suddenly they heard another sound. This time it was closer, more distinct – as if something or someone had taken a step toward them. It sounded as if heavy feet were moving slowly across the floor, too slowly to be accidental. Lena froze, and the rest of the group held their breath. Everyone stared into the darkness, but nothing moved. However, the feeling of presence was stronger now – almost tangible.
“What was that?” Sophie asked, her voice a barely audible whisper.
“I don’t know.” replied Jacob, his voice so quiet that it was almost non-existent. Mark reached into his pocket and took out a flashlight. Its light cut through the darkness, but did not fully illuminate it. Instead, it only reinforced the feeling of unease. The beam illuminated an old table, chairs and the outline of a cabinet in the corner of the room. But nothing moved. Nothing that they could see.
“There is nothing here,” – Mark said, but his voice was hollow, as if he himself did not believe his words.
Non-Fiction (Retirement)
It was touched on how $1 million might not be quite enough to get you through retirement, even though that is the most common amount cited to be able to retire comfortably. Well, according to GOBankingRates, you could easily wipe out that $1 million amount in 12 years depending on what your spending habits are like and where you live. Given that the average life expectancy of someone who is going to retire at 63 is another 20 years or so, you’re looking at spending the remainder of your retirement years broke unless you do something about it.
Debt is one of the biggest financial burdens of many Americans. Ideally, you’d want to go into your retirement years with no debt at all, but this is not always possible. The US Government averages the month Social Security check at $1,404, with more than 40% of adults who are single deriving more than 90% of their monthly income from that Social Security check.
Non-Fiction (Working Hours)
In 1930, in an essay titled, “Economic Possibilities for our Grandchildren,” the economist John Maynard Keynes made a famous prediction. Observing the breakneck pace of innovation and economic growth during the 19th and early 20th centuries, Keynes reasoned that within the next hundred years, the economy would produce so much stuff, so cheaply and easily, that all our material needs would be satisfied. Workers in the 21st century, then, would be clocking in at less than 15 hours per week, free to dedicate the rest of their time to art, play, friends, and family— in other words, the good life.
The year 2030 is fast approaching, but clearly we are not on track to meet Keynes’s prediction of a leisure society. In fact, many of us today work nearly as many hours as our great-great-grandparents did a hundred years ago. And yet, as many observers have pointed out, even some of the poorest among us live better than kings and queens of yore.
So why do we continue working so hard?
Program Details!