Image Courtesy of Sally Cronin Next stop: South Sea Pearl Museum Upon arrival, we were whisked through a five-minute presentation on the color of pearls.
Glossary by Title
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|Kahuna The Magician
Kahuna is a great magician who lives on a beautiful island in Hawaii. Kahuna means "a secret" in Hawaiian. He performs magic shows every night for the local Hawaiians and the visiting tourists. He has a huge secret that he is keeping from everyone. He is not only a magician; he really does have magical powers. That is why his magic shows are so incredible. They look so real, because they are real!
|Kalima The Secret of the Jungle
This is the story of Kalima, a young zebra born in a corner of the jungle of Kenya. She is the last descendant of a very special breed called The Guides, well known for being protectors of the herd, and always staying alert. She has recently been made an orphan due to a lion attack that killed off her mom. Her grandmother becomes her caretaker, as she is an old and wise zebra who holds great knowledge. Kalima loves flowers, chases butterflies and plays with her friend Norba, the youngest member of the elephant pack. But as one of The Guides, soon she is going to receive a big responsibility, she will keep a very important secret hidden in the jungle. Unfortunately, looks like she doesn’t have any clue about it.
|Kate Greene of Earth
“Amie and Charlie ran across the field and into the woods. Amie nearly tripped over the dilapidated fence except for Charlie pointed it out to her. She still couldn’t figure Charlie out, it was almost like he expected it to be there. Whenever she would ask him about this he always said it was nothing more than experience or one of his ‘hunches’. Once in the woods, suddenly the idea of nailing a crystal-meth addicted parkour expert seemed really infeasible.
Night had fully fallen. There was no trace of light from the sun at all and outside of their flashlights little else illuminated the eerie woods. Everywhere they looked dark, angular shadows jutted out contrasted against brightly lit tree-trunks making the whole woods look alive and threatening. They tried their best to follow the crashing sounds but they seemed to be coming from different directions all at once. Suddenly, the crashing stopped and they ran towards it. They looked around with flashlights pointing in all directions for a while before Amie slowly trailed her flashlight up the trunk of one of the nearby larger trees. The light hit something black and angular and, as Amie’s eyes followed it, there was more to the shape. She followed it up to a bend and then in joined with another shape and suddenly it turned tan. Amie realized she was looking at the bottom of a black torso
…wearing cargo shorts? It was clearly a pair of typical cargo-styled shorts with buttons and pockets. The problem was they were a good 20 feet up in the trees above Amie’s head. Then Amie shown her light higher and found arms.
…and then more arms…
Amie couldn’t move. She couldn’t speak. Fear paralyzed every part of her body save for her flashlight hand which dutifully trailed the appendages until a head was revealed. Eight black eyes blinked in Amie’s bright light while fronds of what looked like ‘hair’ but moved cast eerie shadows in the sharp light. Suddenly the creature’s mouth snapped wide open.
Wider than could even be imagined…
Rows of razor sharp teeth jutted out of the mouth as the creature screamed something unearthly and leapt away. The scream brought Charlie’s light up but all he saw was the slip of something moving away fast. Amie couldn’t help herself. She collapsed to the ground panting and shivering at Charlie’s feet and held onto his leg with her flashlight pointing up.
That was no meth-addicted-parkour-expert-electrical-engineering-survivalist who likes porn and classical literature…
“Jesus Christ, Amie, what the fuck was that thing?” Amie was whimpering and shivering. It couldn’t be. Amie thought “This is real life. Shit like this doesn’t happen in real life.” Amie slowly answered Charlie
“It’s not human...”
“I don’t want you in jeopardy. Is that so hard for you to understand?”
|Kissed By The Snow
The cartels murdered his father. For former SEAL Rob Kincaid, the War on Drugs just became personal.
|Knights of the Inner Rim
"You've come to the Rims. This is the place of High Adventure!"
The lighter weights always fight first. The place was filled up now. My coach holds the ropes open and I step into the ring. He tells me this, "He didn't warm up. He's cold. Knock him out." The ref asks me how I feel. I tell him I'm dying. He laughs and says, "You'll be all right."
Now all this time, the fear is indescribable. It had nothing to do with this kid or anything. There is something about getting into a ring surrounded by people watching you and fighting.
I'm thinking it's him or me. Over and over, like a drumbeat in my head. I felt like a cornered rat. Scared mean and viscous. The bell rings. Like most fights I just remember fragments. It was the same combination, the whole fight, three quick, hard jabs and a right hand. The first knock down I thought he slipped. I didn't feel any contact. It felt like I was punching a sheet hanging on a line -- I was punching right through him. The second knockdown was -- I started to get excited. I realized that I could get out of there right now! I never wanted anything so bad in my life.
And then it really hit me, I could win!
This kid was backed up on the ropes getting an 8 count.
The ref had waved me to a neutral corner. I looked to the corner where the judges were and there was a lady judge sitting there, she was blond, and good looking.
Her lips were parted and her eyes were shiny. She looked hungry. They all did. I felt this huge rush of adrenalin. I started to jump up and down in place. The murder came up in my eyes and I turned my eyes on my opponent. I had picked up the count at five.
The ref waved me in and as I closed the distance I felt my head lower and my chin tuck and it was like I was outside of myself and within at the same time. But the point is that I was being careful.
I saw the brass ring. I had him on the hook and I wasn't going to let him off, it was him or me.
Three hard jabs and he brings his gloves in front of his face. He's trying to hide behind his gloves.
Now here is the peroration of my whole story. I saw an opening, a space between his head gear and his gloves. It was like the clouds parting for the sun. Time warped, slipped away, disappeared, it was a moment frozen in time. I was in hyper focus.
I decided that my glove would fit through that little opening. I pulled the trigger and knocked him out. At the moment of impact I twisted my hip into the punch. I put my ass into it. A perfect right hand and the hardest punch I ever threw and I could really punch. That punch would have knocked out any amateur anywhere.
He went down and his neck was on the bottom strand and his eyes were wide open but sightless, he was out cold, out of this world. The doctor came running.
I looked into the audience. Two teenage girls, about 18, were looking at me, their eyes shiny with lust. I thought: so that's the way it is – power!
There was such a confluence of feelings going through me -- deep, deep pathos. I thought: this is one fucked up world.
I didn't prance around with my gloves held high. He was just a kid. But it was me or him. And I decided it had to be me. So I hug this kid. He looked resentful. My coach is spreading the ropes for me. I tell him, "I still don't like it." Then I start snickering, "I could learn to like it." He tells me, "They won't all be this easy." I beat the next guy. He ran and held.
There was a three hour break until the finals. I was tired, I was emotionally spent. I didn't want that last fight. And I had seen the guy fight and I really didn't know how I was going to beat him.
I later learnt that he had lied to get into the tournament. He had 7 fights going in, instead of five. I had one, as I said. One of the guys he beat told me that.
He stopped me with a right hand that hurt me and I got an eight count and I rushed in and got caught again. I never went down. RSC.
Referee stops contest and he stopped it in the second round. I was taking a beating.
Yes, I felt ashamed. A lot of people wanted me to win. There is a lot of racial shit in the states.
I'm not really a fighter. I made myself do it. I wanted to be like my friend, Jamie Ollenberger. I admired fighters. I got a very late start and what success I did have was because I had very heavy hands.
Once I asked a very good retired fighter and trainer, Hedgman Lewis, a welterweight active in the late sixties, if I could even call myself a fighter. He said, "You got in there. You fought."
I didn't have much of a career. I was basically 50/50. End