The wave crashed and hit the sandcastle head-on.

The sandcastle began to melt under the

waves force and as the wave receded, half the sandcastle was gone. The next wave hit, not
quite as strong, but still managed to cover the remains of the sandcastle and take more of it
away. The third wave, a big one, crashed over the sandcastle completely covering and
engulfing it. When it receded, there was no trace the sandcastle ever existed and hours of hard
work disappeared forever.

Balloons are pretty and come in different colors, different shapes, different sizes, and they can
even adjust sizes as needed. But don't make them too big or they might just pop, and then
bye-bye balloon. It'll be gone and lost for the rest of mankind. They can serve a variety of
purposes, from decorating to water balloon wars. You just have to use your head to think a
little bit about what to do with them.

He couldn't move. His head throbbed and spun. He couldn't decide if it was the flu or the
drinking last night. It was probably a combination of both.

Her eyebrows were a shade darker than her hair. They were thick and almost horizontal,
emphasizing the depth of her eyes. She was rather handsome than beautiful. Her face was
captivating by reason of a certain frankness of expression and a contradictory subtle play of
features. Her manner was engaging.

Twenty-five stars were neatly placed on the piece of paper. There was room for five more stars
but they would be difficult ones to earn. It had taken years to earn the first twenty-five, and
they were considered the "easy" ones.

There were two things that were important to Tracey. The first was her dog. Anyone that had
ever met Tracey knew how much she loved her dog. Most would say that she treated it as her
child. The dog went everywhere with her and it had been her best friend for the past five
years. The second thing that was important to Tracey, however, would be a lot more surprising
to most people.

I recollect that my first exploit in squirrel-shooting was in a grove of tall walnut-trees that
shades one side of the valley. I had wandered into it at noontime, when all nature is peculiarly
quiet, and was startled by the roar of my own gun, as it broke the Sabbath stillness around and
was prolonged and reverberated by the angry echoes.

Wandering down the path to the pond had become a daily routine. Even when the weather
wasn't cooperating like today with the wind and rain, Jerry still took the morning stroll down
the path until he reached the pond. Although there didn't seem to be a particular reason Jerry
did this to anyone looking in from the outside, those who knew him well knew exactly what
was going on. It could all be traced back to a specific incident that happened exactly 5 years
previously.

They told her that this was her once chance to show the world what she was made of. She
believed them at the time. It was the big stage and she knew the world would be there to see.
The only one who had disagreed with this sentiment was her brother. He had told her that you
don't show the world what you're made of when they are all watching, you show that in your
actions when nobody was looking. It was looking more and more like her brother was correct.

What if dogs were racist? Would they care about fur color….. “son, only play with other tan
dogs”? Or maybe it would depend on breed, “honey, only play with other German Shepards,
never poodles”. Better yet it could depend on occupation. “I’m a sled dog while you’re only a
running companion, leave me alone”. Maybe the neighborhood they live in could be the way
they choose which dogs to associate with and which to shun? Size could be the determining
factor, “see how tall that dog is, they are probably dumb”. Luckily dogs don’t discriminate. Just
watch at a dog park. Big black and white dogs wag their tails and play with tiny tan dogs. A
service dog chases after the same ball as the off-duty police dog. So if dogs don’t discriminate
then why do we?