<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265962942522796436</id><updated>2011-07-30T18:42:17.569-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Maggie`s Short Stories</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maggiesshortstories.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265962942522796436/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maggiesshortstories.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Maggie</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5AmX2WmXuHE/SWwZjXj5BlI/AAAAAAAAAH8/YtttfIgnWg8/S220/allisone.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>6</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265962942522796436.post-196728466664776310</id><published>2009-11-26T18:11:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-26T18:17:10.350-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Under Cover</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5AmX2WmXuHE/Sw82bNYAUhI/AAAAAAAAAb0/CwqODZAT8Ww/s1600/InkwellWomanSittingInChairHoldingRose6.png"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 261px; HEIGHT: 258px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408601518569968146" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5AmX2WmXuHE/Sw82bNYAUhI/AAAAAAAAAb0/CwqODZAT8Ww/s320/InkwellWomanSittingInChairHoldingRose6.png" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caroline was glad her date had not given her any static tonight. They had been at the party for only an hour when she told Frank she had an awful headache and needed to go home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She could not recall a time when she felt happy in a crowd and most of the time she avoided them. Caroline was a beautiful young lady and many men jumped at a chance to date her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This year should have been the happiest time of her life. She graduated from high school a few months ago and was due to leave soon to attend college.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caroline was an only child and her parents doted on her. They bought her all the things money could buy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mr. and Mrs. Hampton had gone to Florida for the weekend and Caroline had the huge house all to herself. She felt sad and happy both at the same time. Times like tonight was when she desired to be alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She rose from the chair where she had been sitting and made her way to her bathroom. Quickly, she removed her clothing and stood there for a moment looking at the old scars on her upper thighs. With a deep sigh, she took the knife and thought of the pleasurable pain it gave her as she slowly ran the sharp blade against the flesh on her leg.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some pains are hard to explain and even harder to see.&lt;br /&gt;The blood began to trickle down her leg bringing a morbid type of relief for a little while. It was getting harder and harder to keep her secret.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6265962942522796436-196728466664776310?l=maggiesshortstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maggiesshortstories.blogspot.com/feeds/196728466664776310/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://maggiesshortstories.blogspot.com/2009/11/under-cover.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265962942522796436/posts/default/196728466664776310'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265962942522796436/posts/default/196728466664776310'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maggiesshortstories.blogspot.com/2009/11/under-cover.html' title='Under Cover'/><author><name>Maggie</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5AmX2WmXuHE/SWwZjXj5BlI/AAAAAAAAAH8/YtttfIgnWg8/S220/allisone.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5AmX2WmXuHE/Sw82bNYAUhI/AAAAAAAAAb0/CwqODZAT8Ww/s72-c/InkwellWomanSittingInChairHoldingRose6.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265962942522796436.post-9131653865902759621</id><published>2009-11-21T15:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-21T15:59:16.775-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Traditions</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5AmX2WmXuHE/Swh-r-vqeaI/AAAAAAAAAa8/pjU9PAL_S70/s1600/InkwellYoungMan6.png"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 214px; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5406710646700669346" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5AmX2WmXuHE/Swh-r-vqeaI/AAAAAAAAAa8/pjU9PAL_S70/s320/InkwellYoungMan6.png" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Larry was proud of the fact that his grandfather, his father and also his oldest brother had gone to the Naval Academy.&lt;br /&gt;He was always fed the idea that it would be expected for him to follow in their footsteps.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From the time Larry was five years old and received his first guitar, he knew he loved music. He was so happy when his mother paid for him to get musical lessons.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow Larry would finish high school with honors and it meant the moment  was coming which he dreaded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Larry`s parents were at the ceremony and told him that they had a special surprise waiting for him and they would tell him all about it after they returned home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was with a bit of dread that Larry walked in the door at his home. His parents were waiting for him in the living room and asked him to come and sit down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Larry`s dad spoke first and he told him that it was no secret from him about Larry`s love of music. He also said that it had been a long tradition for the men in the family to serve in the Navy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Larry could hardly believe his ears with the next words from his daddy. He said that he had put in an application in one of the best musical colleges and due to Larry`s grade scores, he qualified for a free grant to go study music.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was like a dream come true for Larry to be able to follow his love of music with his parents blessing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He felt like dancing and shouting the news to the world.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6265962942522796436-9131653865902759621?l=maggiesshortstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maggiesshortstories.blogspot.com/feeds/9131653865902759621/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://maggiesshortstories.blogspot.com/2009/11/traditions.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265962942522796436/posts/default/9131653865902759621'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265962942522796436/posts/default/9131653865902759621'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maggiesshortstories.blogspot.com/2009/11/traditions.html' title='Traditions'/><author><name>Maggie</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5AmX2WmXuHE/SWwZjXj5BlI/AAAAAAAAAH8/YtttfIgnWg8/S220/allisone.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5AmX2WmXuHE/Swh-r-vqeaI/AAAAAAAAAa8/pjU9PAL_S70/s72-c/InkwellYoungMan6.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265962942522796436.post-3581499130007885097</id><published>2009-10-31T09:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-06T11:58:03.176-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Going To The Prom</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5AmX2WmXuHE/SuxsRziiG_I/AAAAAAAAAWA/tv2sgDjoqkY/s1600-h/Inkwell4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 185px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398809106459007986" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5AmX2WmXuHE/SuxsRziiG_I/AAAAAAAAAWA/tv2sgDjoqkY/s320/Inkwell4.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Mike was so excited because Marie had agreed to go to the prom with him. He had been with very few girls in the past and it was on a dare from some of his buddies which made him ask Marie to be his prom date. The big shock to him was she accepted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mike was a shy fellow and had admired Marie from the sidelines since they were in grade school. She had a busy social life and seemed so sure of herself in all things where as Mike had never had the nerve to talk with her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most all of the fellows were ordering limos to drive them and their dates to the prom but Mike wanted to do something different. He knew how Marie loved horses and he had found a fellow who owned a horse and carriage which he agreed to drive for the whole evening on prom night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marie was happy Mike had finally asked her for a date. She had smiled his way many times but he just did not pick up the come on clue from her. It was not that she had any problems getting dates but it just seemed most all the guys were the same and she wanted something different.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other fellows had laughed at Mike when he told them his plans for prom night but that did not matter to him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Prom night finally arrived and Mike could hardly wait to see Marie`s face when she saw their ride. He hurried to the porch and rang the doorbell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marie`s father opened the door and greeted Mike. He had heard about this fellow from his daughter and was glad he was going to escort Marie to the prom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a few moments, Marie came down the stairs. Her beauty almost over-whelmed Mike. He gave her a flower and they opened to door to leave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The delighted look on Marie`s face told Mike he had chosen well and they both hurried to the waiting carriage to go to the prom. She was even more pleased when Mike told her he had engaged the carriage for the whole evening after the prom dance.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6265962942522796436-3581499130007885097?l=maggiesshortstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maggiesshortstories.blogspot.com/feeds/3581499130007885097/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://maggiesshortstories.blogspot.com/2009/10/going-to-prom.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265962942522796436/posts/default/3581499130007885097'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265962942522796436/posts/default/3581499130007885097'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maggiesshortstories.blogspot.com/2009/10/going-to-prom.html' title='Going To The Prom'/><author><name>Maggie</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5AmX2WmXuHE/SWwZjXj5BlI/AAAAAAAAAH8/YtttfIgnWg8/S220/allisone.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5AmX2WmXuHE/SuxsRziiG_I/AAAAAAAAAWA/tv2sgDjoqkY/s72-c/Inkwell4.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265962942522796436.post-9140458257539813009</id><published>2009-10-30T15:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-31T17:43:06.673-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Cry Wolf</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5AmX2WmXuHE/Sutn1j38UbI/AAAAAAAAAV4/I3QcZOHE-dw/s1600-h/InkwellPrompt3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 106px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5AmX2WmXuHE/Sutn1j38UbI/AAAAAAAAAV4/I3QcZOHE-dw/s320/InkwellPrompt3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398522748194279858" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Old habits are hard to break and adults laughed at some of the tricks, jokes and stories Lois would make up while she was a child. The problem was that Lois still continued to act childish after she became an adult and many times her family and friends did not believe her when she did try and tell the truth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Hank was no exception and even though they were going steady, she loved to tease him at times telling him there were other men in her life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  To make matters worse, Lois told Hank she was pregnant by another man and it just about broke his heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  A few weeks later, Hank called Lois on the phone and asked her to meet him at the Blue Angel bar at 8 pm. She was very excited and was just sure Hank was going to pop the big question and give her a ring.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Lois stood at the bar counter sipping on her favorite drink. She kept glancing at her watch and checking the old clock hanging on the wall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  She knew it would make Hank happy when she confessed there was no other man in her life, she was not pregnant and he was the love of her life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Just as Lois was about to order another drink she heard a loud commotion outside the bar and the front doors opened wide.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  There stood Hank dressed in a tuxedo with a beautiful girl in a bridal gown holding onto his arm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Lois collapsed to the floor when Hank introduces his new wife to all the customers and ordered free drinks for all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6265962942522796436-9140458257539813009?l=maggiesshortstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maggiesshortstories.blogspot.com/feeds/9140458257539813009/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://maggiesshortstories.blogspot.com/2009/10/cry-wolf.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265962942522796436/posts/default/9140458257539813009'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265962942522796436/posts/default/9140458257539813009'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maggiesshortstories.blogspot.com/2009/10/cry-wolf.html' title='Cry Wolf'/><author><name>Maggie</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5AmX2WmXuHE/SWwZjXj5BlI/AAAAAAAAAH8/YtttfIgnWg8/S220/allisone.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5AmX2WmXuHE/Sutn1j38UbI/AAAAAAAAAV4/I3QcZOHE-dw/s72-c/InkwellPrompt3.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265962942522796436.post-6563417603168013269</id><published>2009-10-11T15:34:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-11T16:08:46.408-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Telling Traces</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5AmX2WmXuHE/StJeGnXzr2I/AAAAAAAAAUo/vSlnHSsNIv8/s1600-h/InkwellDropsPrompt2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 315px; float: left; height: 287px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391475171656970082" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5AmX2WmXuHE/StJeGnXzr2I/AAAAAAAAAUo/vSlnHSsNIv8/s320/InkwellDropsPrompt2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Jack and Dan were brothers and had founded a small church in Atlanta, Georgia. Jack was the head pastor and Dan was associate pastor. The year after the church came into being, both brothers were married and things were going very well for both families.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To celebrate the first anniversary of their church, the brothers decided to have a BBQ cook-out for all the members of the congregation. It was late in the evening before everything had been cleaned up so Dan and his wife, Betty asked Jack and his wife, Ruth to just spend the night with them instead of getting on the road after midnight. They agreed to do so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Betty became pregnant first and she had a son which was named Jackie after his Uncle Jack. In the next couple of years Ruth had twin girls named Jane and Joyce. Dan and Betty had two daughters. The older was named Sara and the younger was named Laura.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What was once a small church grew so much in the next ten years that it became one of the largest Baptist churches in Atlanta and now the church had several thousand members as well as a huge new church building.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jack was a strict preacher in the pulpit and often spoke of the morals  and value in having a happy Christian home for the families in the church.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Jackie became 30, he was invited to be an associate pastor and help preach in the church along with his father and uncle. Dan had a stroke and he stepped down from preaching.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All was going well until one spring morning when Jackie was involved in a horrible auto accident. The hospital asked family members if they would donate some much needed blood because there was not enough of Jackie`s blood type in stock.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The doctors were surprised that neither Dan or Betty had the right blood type and they tested Jack and Ruth`s blood.&lt;br /&gt;Jack had the correct blood type and after deeper study on the DNA of Jackie it was discovered that his Uncle Jack was really his father. The blood was used and Jackie was soon on the mend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems so many years ago after the BBQ when Jack and Ruth had spent the night at the home of Dan and Betty there had been a bit of wine served and Jack and Betty had both woke up and went to the front porch for a bit of fresh air. One thing led to another and they went into the nearby barn where Jackie was conceived. It never happened again and was never spoken about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The church split after hearing about what had happened so long ago and Jackie was heart broken to learn the results of the DNA but understood that it never lied. He never preached again and moved away from Atlanta.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6265962942522796436-6563417603168013269?l=maggiesshortstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maggiesshortstories.blogspot.com/feeds/6563417603168013269/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://maggiesshortstories.blogspot.com/2009/10/telling-traces.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265962942522796436/posts/default/6563417603168013269'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265962942522796436/posts/default/6563417603168013269'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maggiesshortstories.blogspot.com/2009/10/telling-traces.html' title='Telling Traces'/><author><name>Maggie</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5AmX2WmXuHE/SWwZjXj5BlI/AAAAAAAAAH8/YtttfIgnWg8/S220/allisone.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5AmX2WmXuHE/StJeGnXzr2I/AAAAAAAAAUo/vSlnHSsNIv8/s72-c/InkwellDropsPrompt2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265962942522796436.post-4994379033193490050</id><published>2009-10-05T19:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-06T03:00:40.708-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Silent Alert</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5AmX2WmXuHE/SsqyYHWe0kI/AAAAAAAAATw/sO0IzxaMGy8/s1600-h/Prompt1ZippedLips.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 320px; float: left; height: 240px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389316031462167106" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5AmX2WmXuHE/SsqyYHWe0kI/AAAAAAAAATw/sO0IzxaMGy8/s320/Prompt1ZippedLips.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Sam walked out the airport doors hailed the first taxi giving the cabbie instructions to get him to the nearest bar. After the long flight from Iraq, he had a deep thirst and a longing for female company. In a few minutes, the cab pulled in front of a bar with flashing neon lights.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Upon entering the dimly lit place, his eyes quickly fell on a beautiful blonde who was sitting alone and smiling toward his way. Like most men, he took it as an invitation and made his way toward her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  "Hello, my name is Sam", he stated as he plopped down in a chair at the table. Her bright red lips parted slightly as she spoke in a seductive voice telling him her name is Mary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  After downing a fifth of Jack Daniel`s and chatting for over two hours, Sam was overjoyed when Mary invited  him to come to her room at a near by hotel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Once inside the room and consuming several more drinks, it seemed Mary began to act in a very aggressive manner. She asked Sam how he felt about bondage and he replied that he could not say because he knew little about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Reaching into her purse she removed several handcuffs.&lt;br /&gt;She left the room for a few minutes and returned decked out in red leather with four inch high heels. His mouth fell open.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Take off your clothes" she purred, "and lay down on the bed."  Covering him with kisses, she quickly cuffed his hands and feet to the four bed posts.. Then, she gave Sam a very long and deep kiss as she reached for the third and final time into her purse and brought out a straight edge razor blade. His manhood was throbbing with excitement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Mary did what she always did and silently slit Sam`s throat. She took off the blonde wig, cleaned the room of any evidence and left the hotel by an employee exit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Entering a cab, Mary smiled as she thought to herself how wonderful when the prey becomes the hunter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  "Airport", she told the cabbie and looked forward to another city to pry her trade.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6265962942522796436-4994379033193490050?l=maggiesshortstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maggiesshortstories.blogspot.com/feeds/4994379033193490050/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://maggiesshortstories.blogspot.com/2009/10/silent-alert.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265962942522796436/posts/default/4994379033193490050'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265962942522796436/posts/default/4994379033193490050'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maggiesshortstories.blogspot.com/2009/10/silent-alert.html' title='Silent Alert'/><author><name>Maggie</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5AmX2WmXuHE/SWwZjXj5BlI/AAAAAAAAAH8/YtttfIgnWg8/S220/allisone.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5AmX2WmXuHE/SsqyYHWe0kI/AAAAAAAAATw/sO0IzxaMGy8/s72-c/Prompt1ZippedLips.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry></feed>
