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Harvest Dance --Irish Drinking Song-- The days are getting shorter,
And the wind blows from the North.
We'll have time enough to loiter
Then, so let us all go forth
And our laughter, be it merry
And our singing, be it sweet,
We have time enough to tarry
So let's dance on lighter feet.
Oh, dance, lassy, dance
To the rhythm of romance
To the beating of my heart
As it keeps time with your feet,
And love, lassy, love,
There's a God far up above,
Watching us all play our part
Till in eternity we meet.
The moon is shining brighter,
And the air, it has a chill
So go take your place
The Death of John M Sunderland The tile was cold and hard. Through the window, just barely visible above the cluttered countertop, a faint tint of lighter blue permeated the black night. The harsh, unforgiving green lines on the microwave declared the hour to be 5:47. Another day was coming.
Another day to fail everyone.
Another day to fail himself.
A rough sob choked him as he tried to curl up tighter on the floor. The letter of rejection in his left hand crunched loudly, prompting violent shakes along his spine. Harvard didn't want him, either. He had applied to them under the basest of terms, begging for a chance to redeem himself using his disabilities as a crutch. But they said;
His weak voice echoed hollowly off of the hard walls. He squeezed his eyes shut against the oncoming wave of misery. Desperately, he clutched at the rosy visions of success as they d
How It Began"God, your two o'clock is here."
"I have a two o'clock?"
"He's been here since 7:45. I figured it's only polite to... sir."
God sighed. "Fine, send him in."
While He waited God cleared His desk of papers and blueprints; no need for outsiders to see His plans. Soon enough the door to His office opened and God stood, smiled, held out a hand towards one of the two visitor's chairs.
"God! Great stuff you're doing in sector 2-7-0! Great stuff!"
The man's hands were clammy, his handshake limp. Rumpled suit, porkpie hat, briefcase... oh Jes-- oh dear, a salesman. God's smile slipped a little but He soldiered on gamely. With luck He could shoo the poor guy away in a few minutes.
"So, what can I do for you?"
The man sat, briefcase across his knees. "Sector 2-7-0! Everyone's talking about it! What do you call it? Man and merman?"
"Man and woman, actually. And thanks. But we're pretty busy around here, and..."
"Oh! Right! No time for the wicked, eh?" The salesman winked and popped his briefcase,
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More