intermartku

All top-quality Canadian medications in one place at most reasonable price!

Most popular sold products

Generic Vi`agra as low as $1.59
Ci`alis as low as $1.59
Ci`alis + Vi`agra Powerpack (Special price)

Payment: VISA,MasterCard,AMEX,E-Check and Bitcoin

Free bonus pills for all orders!

http://www.breenalanny.ru?cid=rx??36gQor

(Copy and paste the link to your browser)





86zSpr26jAnr
76LUzr36ZRcr

Explore the microscopic world with wireless HD. The microscope's wireless capability enables the device to connect with iPads, iPhones, or the iPod touch, as well as over two hundred other mobile devices. Our microscope can magnify objects up to 1000x times their normal size. It has a built in LED illumination light, so that you can see all the fine details and eliminate shadow. Take a screenshot on your device to get amazing pictures!   Shop Now     Shop Now   Rally-Edwards Intellectual Services 2036 Arrowhead Trl Coatesville, PA 19320-4752 Click here to end further messaging.

'Dear Susan,

You've been invited to the St. Mary's high school class of '14 reunion dinner. It would be great if you could come.'

What a scumbag reunion, I scuffed. They should rename it the "reunion of backstabbing and phoney friendship."

I'm not sure why they still want to see their backstabbing faces; of course, many individuals will turn up merely to brag; I wouldn't even go to such a meal.

St. Mary's High School was a school in the western part of Ghana that was known for producing great people who would eventually help society develop. 

It was also a pricey school that only the wealthy could afford, and it was full of snobs who had been born with a giant spoon shoved down their throat. 

When I received a fully paid scholarship to that godforsaken hell, my parents were overjoyed; at first, I rejoiced because the school was known to be the best among others, but.....

"Oh sure, my daughter received the scholarship," mother enthused to a friend who had dropped by unexpectedly.

We weren't poor; we belonged to the middle-high class in society, so we weren't poor, but we weren't particularly wealthy either, and the school fees were quite high for boarding and day school.

I wasn't the only child; I had younger and older siblings, and as the middle child, I was mostly ignored, which I didn't mind.

I privately rolled my eyes, pleading with her not to brag about me because if I made a mistake, I'd be an embarrassment to my family. Well, not that I intend to do so, but even so... ah

'Oh sure, no pressure,' I thought. 

This was the first time she boasted about me so proudly, and my shoulder felt heavier than usual.

"Susan, come say hello to your aunty," she said proudly.

I rubbed the back of my neck and walked slowly in front of the cheerful woman.

"Good afternoon, ma," I said, bowing slightly.

"Oh no, is this the Tiny Susan of a then? I recall her playing around naked."

She pretended to be surprised, which we all know was a ruse. Come on, lady, start acting in movies, acting as if she didn't just see me last Sunday.

What does my nakedness have to do with this woman, I wonder? Backing away slowly will save me from this unnecessary discussion about my diaper days.

"Yes, that's my girl," my mother said, her shoulders raised.

I wanted to palm my face, but I just excused myself.

'Women and Drama'

When school finally started, I was dressed in a pleated red skirt and a plain milk-coloured long-sleeved blouse that had been ironed. This was the dress code at the school. My cat-eye shaped glass fit perfectly on my face, thanks to two neat cornrows in my hair.

I wanted to make a good impression on my first day, and I wanted to make a good impression on my teachers and classmates.

I repositioned my glasses on the bridge of my nose and grabbed my bag strap, allowing my sweaty palm to wet it.

'You can do it; simply go to class 4 white and enter.'

Feeling encouraged, I began my journey; thirty minutes passed without my noticing, but I didn't know which way to go.

A handsome young man dressed neatly approached me.

'Ask him,' I told myself, but I couldn't muster the courage to do so. I turned away from him, hoping he wouldn't notice my perplexity.

'You don't see me, you don't notice me'

"Student?"

'Ah, he noticed,' I thought as I slowly turned to meet his smiling eyes.

"Ye-Yes, sir?"

"I've been watching you for a while now, you look lost," he said, making me look down in shame.

'I was actually lost.' I wanted to say something, but I bit my lower lip.

"As a new student, there's nothing to be embarrassed about, so what class are you in?"

"Class 4 white sir," I'm glad I recovered my speech; today can't get any worse.

"Oh, that's my class, I'm the teacher in charge of that class," he said with a small smile as he walked away, knowing instantly that he wanted me to follow him, so I did.

When we arrived at the class, he opened the door for me like a gentleman, and I thanked him as I walked in.

"Good day, sir!" The students in the classroom rose to their feet and greeted the teacher.

"Sit down," he said, his voice becoming louder and his aura more authoritative.

Everyone sat down and stared at him, making no noise.

"This is a new student," he said, motioning to me, "please introduce yourself."

When the students finally noticed my presence, I flinched; this was the moment that would make or break my future in this classroom.

"My name is Susan Green, and I'm new."

"We know you're a new dummy," a female student joked and the others laughed.

Crash!

My brain had just exploded on me, and the girl was looking at me with a smirk and a raised brow. She was so beautiful, and it was androgynous beauty, that I stared at her dazedly as she turned to talk to her friend. My palm began to sweat as I became hot.

'Dear God, not today,' I say.

"Shut up Marie, we know you like attention, but we don't have enough for you," the teacher said, rolling his eyes at the girl.

The other students laughed as they sat down, and the teacher turned to show me an empty seat in the first row, third seat.

'The window seat is fantastic.' At the very least, something is working in my favour today.

"I am Mr Michael, your class teacher as well as your geography teacher," he introduced himself before beginning his class.

Marie and I became enemies, or more accurately, she made me her enemy for no apparent reason.

I was able to make two best friends, Sandra and Annie, who people quickly turned into a clique, and wherever we went, Marie and her minions tried to make things difficult for me.

I quickly grew accustomed to it and was no longer bothered by her; she was popular among the boys and her boyish behaviour made her appear to be one of them.

Time flew by and it was my final term at St. Mary's High School. I had witnessed some crazy things and survived some backstabbing, and when we returned to school, I discovered that my two friends were dating guys from other classes, which made me happy for them.

I had no intention of joining them in this childish dating, but Marie was now approaching me whenever she saw I was alone, and she came without her minions.

I was concerned at first, but after noticing she wasn't as hostile as before and instead spoke calmly to me, I became suspicious that she was plotting something big against me.

Our Math teacher did not show up one day during afternoon class, so I felt pressed and excused myself from my friends, telling them I needed to use the restroom. They both nodded, so I went on my own.

I didn't realize they were following me until I entered the large female bathroom and looked at myself in the large mirror before entering one of the stalls to relieve myself. When I finished, I went to the sink to wash my hands, and when I looked up at the mirror, I was surprised to see Marie staring at me with dark eyes.

?Hey Marie,? I said.

She seemed to snap out of her thought and smiled shyly at me; I decided not to point out her red cheeks because she had white and black parents, literally a white father from America and her mother from Ghana.

I moved to leave, but she stopped me; I took a step back and looked up at her. She was about 6ft 2 inches tall, which was a full foot taller than me.

?Can I assist you, Marie??

?I have something to tell you,? she said as she moved closer to me, continuing, ?I really like you and I can't stop myself.?

'Wait, what?' Before I could think of anything, she kissed me, and it was my first kiss stolen by Marie.

I couldn't move because I was too shocked, so she kept kissing me; my lips felt tingly, and her lips felt so soft on mine. I pushed her away and rushed back to class, picking up my bag and running out of the school when I heard the bell for the end of the day.

Throughout, I kept wiping my lips and refusing to eat with my family because I was afraid they would find out what happened at school. My family did not stop me, so I ran into my room and tried to read to distract myself from what had happened.

?I should feel disgusted,' I kept telling myself.

A week passed, a week of avoiding Marie as if my life depended on it, a week of feeling my best friends' disgust and anger when they thought I wasn't looking.

It was almost a month before my last exam at this school when I was summoned to the principal's office, where I found my crying mother and stern-looking father, who was rubbing her back in comfort, waiting for me.

?Good afternoon, sir,? I said, then looked at my parents, concerned about what had happened to them and hoping that my siblings were doing well.

I left home, and everyone was fine, so what was the problem?

?Susan, I have a question for you, but first look at this,? the principal said, picking up his phone and placing it in front of me, urging me to press play, which I did with shaking hands.

It was a video of Marie kissing me, with my face visible but not Marie's. My hands and feet were cold, and I could feel bile moving up my throat.

?Isn't this you kissing a fellow female student in the girl's bathroom?? His words left no room for me to explain If I said no, it was obviously a lie, and if I said yes, I would have major problems.

I remained silent, and my mother's sob grew louder as if they had murdered her favourite child.

?Your silence is confirmation, and some female students accused you of sexually harassing them,? he stated matter-of-factly. I'm not sure when I did this.

?I didn't-? the principal cut me off as I was about to defend myself, turning to my parents and saying.

?The council decided to let your daughter graduate, but she would be suspended before her exams and would write her papers from a special centre, and that is all we can do for her because of her good grades.?

This was the start of my downfall, as I returned to the classroom to pack my books and bag. Everyone looked at me, some with disgust, others with laughter, and a few with sadness and pity.

Sandra and Annie mocked me and hurled insults at me, so I fought back tears and stormed out of the classroom. On my way to meet my parents, I was followed by a red-eyed Marie who claimed she wasn't the one and that if she had known someone was there, she wouldn't have done anything.

I simply ignored her and got into my parents' car; they didn't say anything to me until we got home. They called my eldest sister and explained what was going on, and my two younger siblings discovered what was going on and avoided me like a pledge; my life had already been shattered as a result of me allowing Marie too close.

When I finished my exams and the results were released, my parents packed all of my belongings and threw me out, saying they had never had an abomination of a daughter. I cried and begged them, telling them I was innocent, but they didn't care.

When my immediate elder brother found out what they did, he tracked me down during a storm and picked me up, taking me to his apartment since he had stopped living with our parents when he finished university.

He called our elder sister in New York and told her what our parents had done, and she was furious.

?They shouldn't have done this, which is why whenever I called, they always gave me one stupid excuse after another.?

I finally said, "I didn't do what they accused me of." I finally had someone to explain things to, and their next words surprised me.

?We know you didn't harass anyone sexually, and even if you aren't straight, that doesn't give anyone the right to hurt you,? my brother said, and I sobbed. I felt warmth again for the first time in two months after the tears I had been holding in for so long finally poured out.

After spending a week with my brother, my sister finally revealed that she was working on my papers to move to New York and live with her and her in-laws. She also assured me that our parents would not be aware of anything.

That was five years ago, and I was able to start a better life in New York; I was a made woman, and I was proud of my accomplishments.

I'd travelled to Ghana with my sister because our brother was getting married, and I wasn't going to miss it for the world.

?Susan, you should go to the dinner,? my sister and her husband had been trying to persuade me to go because my brother's wedding was in a few weeks and we had arrived earlier.

It was during these leisure days that I received the email in my inbox; I was still using the old account for some personal matters that were not particularly important.

I agreed and decided to attend after their persuasion, so I rented a car that I used to drive myself and went shopping for something new.

Finally, the day of the dinner arrived, and I dressed perfectly as usual and styled my hair; I had gotten rid of my glasses a few years ago, and now my honey brown eyes were on display.

When I arrived at 8 p.m., they had already laid out a red carpet and photographers were photographing people. I parked my car and walked into the hall, ignoring the cameras and continuing to wear my dark sunglasses.

?It's time to watch the drama.'

I sat in the corner of the hall on an empty table, watching everyone do whatever they wanted.

?Excuse me, is this chair already taken?? I shook my head, not looking at the individual.

After a few minutes, each table was full of people, and I recognized some of my classmates and the principal.

?Irritating bunch of humans,' I grumbled as they introduced everyone present until they said her name.

?Marie Peyton, please greet everyone,? the Mc, who I recognized as the former student body president, said with a smile.

The person next to me rose to their feet, and I looked at her in surprise. She was dressed in a pants suit with a bow tie, and her hairstyle was ideal for the occasion.

When my name was called, people began to spread rumours about how I died on the street and how I became pregnant.

?It's time to stun them.'

I stood up and walked towards the stage, my head held high because I was here to ruin their celebration and be petty for a change.

I took the microphone from the stunned MC and let out a light chuckle at everyone's expression.

?Oh hello there, those who don't remember me,? I paused for emphasis before continuing. ?I am Susan Green, the scapegoat,? I said, my gaze meeting the shocked expressions of Sandra and Annie.

I came prepared, and let's just say my brother got enough dirt on them and saved it for me, so I discovered my so-called best friend was the real devil who wanted me to suffer.

I gave the people in charge of the media equipment a flash drive to show them what was on it.

Every little secret of theirs was playing in the background, as were my innocence to their framing. I walked out wearing my shades again after dropping the bomb.

'Haha, I ended the dinner before it started,' they can try to explain to their husbands who sat next to them at the table.

When I got to my car, I breathed a sigh of relief and went to open the door when a hand grabbed mine.

?Susan, please don't leave me like you did the last time,? Marie and her tall self were the source of my predicament.

?What exactly do you want?? I asked calmly, feeling the warmth on my face. It's a good thing it was dark because my skin tone wouldn't have given me away.

?Can we talk, perhaps over a drink?? She rubbed the back of her neck.

There was nothing wrong with us drinking together, so I nodded, and she happily fist pumped before opening the car door for me and entering the passenger's side.

?What exactly are you doing in my car??

?I don't trust you enough to not disappear again, so drive woman,? she said, and I laughed lightly before driving off into the night.

I am so excited that finally I will have both my family and my husband's family come together as one. The petty fights were definitely unnecessary and I'm glad we realized it soon. I am ready to put everything behind and start afresh with everyone. I grew up in a dysfunctional home. My dad cheated on my mum countless times and I have siblings that I do not know about. I'm determined to make sure my children have a good home and grow up in a stable household and this dinner is the start of something new. My husband and I got married despite our families being against it. My parents were pro-black and unfortunately for them I fell in love with a Spanish man. My husband's family is also the typical Spanish family that treasures their culture and their main concern was if I will be able to keep my husband happy, they even once brought a spanish girl for him when I was 2 months pregnant with our twins and that it were my husband and I drew the line and decided we won't see them or let them see our babies . The age difference just made everything worse as my husband is 12 years older than me but that didn't bother me. To be honest, when I turned 18, I realized that I was attracted to older men and my first boyfriend was 14 years older than me, I like them a little older.

For the past two years, our families have had a 'cat and mouse' type of relationship, there is always something to fight about, either my relatives don't like something on my husband's side or vice versa, they just don't get along. The birth of our beautiful twins Aurora and Atara is definitely a blessing because we told our relatives that they will not see them until they learn to get along. Our families have agreed to this request and hence we decided to have this dinner at our house to discuss everything and ways in which we can always get along and settle matters diplomatically and also to celebrate our twins.

It is two days away from the dinner and I called my sister-in-law and my sister to go shopping for the event. I'm trying my best to include foods from both cultures. I really want this to work out so we can finally move forward and start anew. My sister-in-law will definitely help with spanish delicacies like Spanish rice,Paella,spanish chickpea stew and the famous red sangria. I can't wait to come through with all my favourite barbeque recipes my mum taught me.

We did our shopping and had a lovely meal afterwards. I then drove my sister-in-law and my sister back to their apartments and I went back home to my husband with the foodstuff of course. "Babe , do you think this is the beginning of something?" I asked my husband.

'Mi chica, everything will work out." 'Mi chica ' simply means my girl or my babygirl, my girlfriend. Oh I love it when he uses Spanish pet names on me. It takes me back to when he was trying to win me, not that anything has changed but it just reminds me of our first date. It was valentines day and this man said he wanted us to go out. I wore a beautiful red dress, some stiletto heels, I did my make-up and nails with the hoop earrings ,need I say I looked amazing. The food,the scenery and he looked handsome and I have been his "Chica" since then. Life has been amazing with this man and our twins just made it even more beautiful.

Saturday is finally here. I woke up 5:00AM and I have been busy in the kitchen, marinating the meat and cutting the veggies. My sister-in-law and sister have been very helpful. My sister-in-law has kept the preparation of the Spanish meals under control.

It is 5:00 PM and we are finally done, the food, the drinks , the decoration, everything is excellent. We quickly rushed to freshen up because we don't smell as good as we should after all that hard work.

It's 6:30 PM and our relatives start to arrive , my husband and I welcome them and walk them to our backyard where everything is and before we know it everyone is here. My parents-in-law, My mum and my two aunties who helped my mum raise me are present. My sister-in-law and my sisters and brothers are all present.

We all gather at the table and say a prayer to grace the food and we all carefully settle down. My mum started out by addressing the incident were my husband's parents brought a lady knowing that I was two months pregnant. My parents-in-law quickly apologized for the incident and I gladly accepted it. My mum also apologized to my husband's parents for calling them out of their name on countless occasions. It was a nice night of reconciliation and everything was going fine until the doorbell rang.

The house-help quickly rushed to the door , Lo and behold, armed robbers were in our midst. I couldn't keep calm. The only thing on my mind was how to call the police before these men got to my babies. They harassed everyone, my husband offered money but they didn't leave. They confiscated our phones and I just couldn't stop crying until they called me out. Those merciless men raped me in front of my husband, my sisters, everyone!!! My husband couldn't do anything as he was tied up. They tried to get hold of my babies and that was when my husband lost it and tried to fight them. They pulled 10 shots on him. Luckily enough, some neighbours heard the chaos from outside and called the police. The police came and called the ambulance for both me and my husband , we were quickly rushed to the hospital. The robbers were arrested and taken away. My husband had been in coma for 3 days, he regained consciousness a few days after I regained consciousness. Our families have been nothing but supportive during this hard time. I'm so glad we were on good terms before the attack. The dinner went absolutely chaotic but at least we are on good terms now. This whole incident has left all of us traumatized and we all agreed to appreciate each other because life is too shor

Make the most of this winter without the chills! The Fireside Heated gloves help keep you warm so you can keep doing what you love. Fingers seem to be the first thing to get too cold and these heated gloves will help battle the chill. With rechargeable batteries and responsive fabric, they'll help you keep going without getting in the way. Shop today and receive discounts on bundled orders to keep th whole family warm!   SHOP NOW   Callibreanne - Benis Network Services 2 Pineway Drive Daleville, AL 36322-5510 Click here to end further messaging.

Lin had to figure out things, because objects, issues and all sorts of things gave her mind ideas about the past within heritage. A moral code was however not modern when she was young, so she had to do wrong kind of acts, just because of it. And afterwards try to have ways to solve it.

But her shame and guilt was laid down in her personality from fishermen and sailors, as that was her mum´s ancestry. The compass on the sea might make you roam the waves as they roll into your blood, veins, muscles and sinews. Her ancestry was of seas and seas have an order and a rule and a law that wash the soil, the sand, the rock. Waving and weaving getting into you as the compass makes you roll on in a direction where something leads you. Moral?

You might think that all sailors lack moral, but that is not alltogether true. To stay poor winter after winter meant that Lin´s family had never been part of the slavetrade. The poverty that then ran in Lin´s blood gave her some kind of uplifted sense of being above something. And in Sweden the word ´something` means that moral issues has to be laid aside from the ego, letting moral work by itself. And as it did so Lin had no reason to be personal in just any way, nor was she private just because of things. But still, the problems began with family life.

Lin´s parents were not God´s best children, although they pressed their minds in all kinds of direction trying to bring up their kids. And they tried their best.

Lin´s mum was as honest as the cliff, because cliffs have no way to tell lies. That cliff was built on solid land, and built by the words from a Viking tradition. Land should by law be built. Man is man´s happiness. Better burden carry no one than knowledge.

The Viking´s line was spread into literature, laws, gossips and folkelore. Better burden had no one that the one who could see an enemy, and better knowledge to see a true friend. Lin had met both. And the knowledge from an enemy had to test one´s gut out to the last spot of the horizon. And that horizon could bend its skyline only, and only if, the rising sun of the horoscope gave room for a splendid code of acting. To act in accordance with one´s personality meant, sad to say, that the trust and faith in the road and journey meant that destiny brought Lin to go about and go everywhere, because of her sailor´s attitude. Her mum had for real laid down a conduct within Lin that brought her classmates to roar high with laughter. And to act silly and stupid within Viking tradition meant that you gave pleasure to the people because of joking. It made people feel at ease with Lin, and they lowered their shield of face to let their own honesty pay a tribute to whatever. Joking, yes, although the habit of joking also have its toll. Not being taken seriously meant that Lin´s Swedish kind of lonely heart made her be dumb-drifted when acting out of the shere blue. But, there is a but?

Being honest, silly and dumb can give you an aura of acting out of no reason at all. Still the joking spirit may make the wit comes round as a defence, according to Freud. And having loads of defences means in the end that this habit might protect you from doing wrong things. Act silly and you get closer to the intellect of defending your friends, because when you stand in the affair of others you can let their burden get its relief. Sense of humour then can have witty jokes about the Black Coffee, because Black is a colour that has to be brought round from the meaning of association. If your witty jokes makes the wrongdoers understand their own stupidity, then the jokes has got rid of the burden of guilt and shame. Cause everyone of us carry a burden of sins, and everyone of us has to lift the jokes to a level of imagination where ? the last to say it ? the prejudices are brought to heaven where the issues of stupidity melt and overflood the scapegoat of Jesus Christ. Such a sin that everyone have to get a good and deep laughter to rid the shame its own load and loathing Loath or load? Where is the choice?

But beware! Human understanding has no cost. It is free. It won´t pay your shoes. It has no taxes for no one. It does not sell what it has. The freedom of thought goes deep within wisdom ? and!

To bargain about prejudices might not always lead you into the path of human understanding.

Lin had a love for solidarity, at no cost. Lin had a love for understanding, at no cost. Lin had love for acting out the pressure of her soul and mind, and it gave her a gift of letting go of hate and mean thoughts. But at times we all have mean thoughts, ideas and issues. Stay back! Stay away! Get lost! Get rid of your arm if your arm reach for the knife. But? If your knife of languages has sharpen your mouth and tongue, then outspoken and straight migh mean that words somehow prove words.

Lin had piled up all her words from the chamber of the past and in that abyss of the remote historic places she brought up issues that were to be a gift to the people. To the people of all heritages, of all colours, of all walks of life, of all regions, states and contries? Jokes! No joking?

Lin had a pressure on her, as her parents wanted her to be forward and straight. This meant that she tried to escape discussions to not get involved in other people´s affairs. But one day!

Lin´s odd style brought her once to head over heels run into a debate in a lost and remote classroom. Head was lost. Heels had its own cost?

And by her stupidity she had to solve the problenm she had created. The teacher at that school forced her to stay off, not letting her into the discussion. Over and over Lin only had her honesty to solve the situation with. But lo! The debate took the wrong turn, and Lin was thought of to be a racist. Well that did hurt. The only way to solve the matter was to lose her face, letting her stay on crime´s side to take her guilt and shame on herself. Was she a criminal would you say?

If a racist can be proved to be guilty than under what law does the crime go?

The teacher had leading questions making Lin think that if she proved to be guilty they would give her a courtroom to solve the problem...no way! No way at all!

The teacher, a high-born ?creature? was so proud of her tolerance that she made room for issues at all levels, just because of the level of her democrazy...Crazy democrazy? Lin blew off her irony in several more ways than a dog could chew sixteen bones. The bone of contention were its own matter, its own issue, its own means and method. That´s about as far out West as the rest could go...Mrs teacher had an attitude of being above the sky, as the sky for her made marks on the horizon because of the British slavetrades. Now odd matter, hu?

The moral of Lin meant that obeying the rules of Britain it meant to her that she saw no other way out of the situation. Next she was forbidden to talk, forbidden to end her conversation, forbidden her own explanations. And in the end?

She sailed the ferry back home to Sweden, thinking she had to solve the problems she had run into. But there was the gravest problem,. The anti-racist had kept Lin outside the debates, which meant that rumours and gossip had been spread all over North Yorkshire.

From that attic on the moors was heard a female voice, kept closed in, not letting out the dark side of fear. Not letting out dark matters in the open meant that Lin had been forced to close her virtues into her own mind. And that is how her hate began. Not being a part of the classroom.

Yes she was white and came to face the eyes of all dark matters. Each and everyone of us is entitled to have a say, that is the best rules of freedom, although there might be exceptions.

If a classroom begins to operate outside the law, then the classroom can begin to find out who is guilty and who is not. The teacher refused to give Lin her justice and her right to go to court to be tried out. Not being tried means the proof is avoided, and as they are, it means that an anti-racist can begin to operate according to their own law. Now!

Lin went back home, took up her studies, went through everything over and over and came to one conclusion.

If justice has its own rule then it must be measured in accordance with a kind of authority. Whose authority? Whose law? A law must be tested and trained within democracy to prove its value. A moral code is nothing if it can´t be in accordance with the tradition of people´s wish.

Land should by law be written. The law Lin´s went home to search for was still there. Viking. Mideaval. Renaissance, Baroque. Classicism. Enlightment. Romanticism. Realism. Naturalism. Symbolism. The spread-out Modernism?.but Postmodernism? If the last era gave room and space for any and all issues without them being under a concern of moral conduct, then the means and methods of language had begun to fall apart. Everything about everything was out on run, and the slave trade withing utterances proved ? or did it? Utterances for each and everyone. It seemed to Lin that equality was once again for some only. Perhaps for those who could master their own tradition. And how many did?

Lin gazed towards sky. The horizon bent forward, up and down in some sweaping minutes, perhaps hours. Swept away was fear. Swept away was the debate. Swept away was the issues ? into modes of the last fashion. Lin said to herself that the problems of racism should not be under the label of colour, but rather ...The issue was not just a late fashion. It was the core of who we are at hearts, mind and soul. Talks about bodies proved nothing. Talks about gender proved null.

Talks about human value was its own law, beyond the hubbalongcherioodoo of modes of latest news. The latest news was to be get rid of, to get deeper into folklore and tradition.

As the music of Bob Dylan began giving Lin an echo, she heard the tone over and over. Someone had done wrong. Someone was to be a gossip. The Media was on the run. Where was the facts of hard core truth?

Lin tried her own thoughts to test them against her studies. At once she felt her own personality was tried by destiny´s own wheel. Over and over again swept the same issues over Mankind, and who was to stand the test of time? The wheel kept rollling, faster and faster?

Lin´s own destiny took her to poetry´s courtroom. There she was asked to write it all down. Fact, figures, speech, dreams, visions. Her latest vision took her to a journey afar, a far off as something can go. And when she returned down to the matters of earth she knew it. Her personality might have had many flaws, but in the end. The sin of hers was now washed clean again. If not white, so at least more sure...

Yesterday evening, I got an email from the FDDC the body responsible for economic and financial crime in the country. I have been contacting them since one year now, asking me to reapply for the recovery of the tuition fee I paid to a school in London. In the mail, I was asked to follow application format as if I am in the exam hall taking examination. I just knew what that nonsense instruction means, they were looking tor excuse not to attend to me or one for not contacting me since one year now. 

Then they ended their diatribe that I should be aware that they don't take commission or percentage from the recovered money. Imagine thought like that, it could only mean one thing, they have plan already to deep their filthy hands into the money. Is there any other meaning of that filthy line in the mail?, maybe, they were still trying to prove that I am not who I am, I didn't meet the picture some of their collaborators painted of me while away.

Why did it take them a year to reply to my request and was laying trap with the reply?

This commission has changed their leadership not less than four times since I started following them, recently, they replaced their leader with a 32 year old man, where he garnered experience to lead that commission that were as corrupt as the police force, no one knows. Since he came on board, he had been talking the talk without corresponding action as if noise alone will do the work. 

The tale following the tuition I paid silently when I paid it is now generating unnecessary noise in the police and FDDC that I knew instantly that another branch have grown out of the tuition I had no knowledge of. 

You see, this money was paid about 17 years ago, and was told to forward my bank details when student visa was denied me, I did after returning all their documents as they requested. I waited for months checking and re-checking my account without any money in it, I sent mail upon mails without reply, the phone calls were unanswered and I later in the year went to Asia continent China to be precise for business where I spent years. 

When I finally returned to the country, I went to my bank, low and behold, there was no money in my account even though they refused to tell me how much inside there then. My first reaction was to search for the school contact information in the Net and started sending email to them again and when none was coming from them, I sought the help of London police without success, contacted the London education board without success and also their Parliament with instruction to chose any member of the house and forwards my complaint through him. According to the instruction, if he or she refused to forward my request to the house, then that would be the end of the issue. 

Imagine scenario of such nature. It sounds manipulative and dismissive to me. From the members they presented me, who I chose never got back to me. I refused to close my file on the issue. I started emailing the school again without reply. 

Then, I decided to get the Nigerian police involved and when nothing was fort coming from them, I contacted the FDDC since I was treating the issue as a scam by then. The commission would send back the machine generated reply that my message got to them without getting back to me. For a year, it was so. I was spamming them on the hope of getting their attention without success. I got angry and contacted INTERPOL in many occasions without hearing from them. 

I got confused, ?this is global conspiracy? I shouted one morning in anger. I can't just believe they were all ignoring me for nothing. 

What do I do now?

I faced the bank again and they were playing games that were confusing to me. that made me to pay extra attention to them. Could you imagine telling me that the account didn't belong to me that they suspected that I am imposter and was even expecting me to cower and when I stood my ground, they started giving me funny excuses about new federal guide lines and when I met all, they came out with even more reasons and finally, I was old hat the balance in the account was only three thousand naira. Those their acts raised my suspicions a notch and I began sending emails to their headquarter detailing my encounter with them. On each mail, the reply I was getting was that they had faith on their staffs account of the incident more than mine. Only God knows what they were told.

Imagine how that statement sounds, as if I was looking for work from them or something. See, the funny part of the whole issue is that they invited the police to frighten me with their presence as if I was truly an imposter they were trying to label me.

Wouldn't you think that the bank was playing funny game?

The officers were on their side, the FDDC was on their side, the school wasn't replying to tell me whether they have actually forwarded the money back or not. You see the quagmire I found myself?, I can't face the bank with hundred percent assurance that the school have returned the money. The police and the FDDC that supposed to act in situation of this nature were misbehaving and they were all openly behaving like hooligans most citizens label them.

So, where do I turn for help now?

United nation?

African union?

Ecowas?

I had also contacted central bank of Nigeria on many occasions without success. 

?We treat cases police and banks have closed file on, if they are still investigating the issue, central bank can not get involved?

This was the first reply I got from any institution in the country that was closer to reply since more than a year. My fellow up mails to detail them on the activities of the bank, police and FDDC were ignored. 

Please, I need your help, do you know of any other institutions any where in the world that can help?

Get in touch immediately and your contribution would never go on noticed. The name is Philip, double Philip that is what I am known around here.

From woodwork to measuring furniture, ToolFront has your back. Whether you're building houses, upgrading a fixer-upper, or just need to measure a uniquely shaped couch, The ToolFront Measuring Tape has the features to help get the job done quickly and accurately. With laser mode, roll mode, and flex cord mode, you can get accurate measurements quickly. Shop today!   Shop Now     Shop Now             Robinson-Harris Tech Deployment 956 Kingston Circle Sun Prairie, WI 53590-3415 Click here to end further messaging.

Callie glances up at the clock on the wall as she begins preparing her customer's sub.

727.

Thirty-three more minutes until she could go home, finish her artwork, and possibly watch her favorite show: "Manifest".

"Your total is $10.4--"

"Hey you," a familiar voice calls, tapping Callie's shoulder firmly, causing her to look their way, "break room. Now." It was no one other than her boss, Pete: tall, chubby, grumpy, and thinks the the world revolves around him.

"You take over," he says, to a co-worker standing nearby.

The two go to the back with Callie already annoyed with whatever was about to be said.

"Give me your apron, you're fired," he says, flatly, holding out a dry hand.

She scrunches up her face and steps back. "What? Why? Look, if this is about me being late I told you it won't happen again--"

"Well it is, it's been too many times where you've been late and your co-workers have to work more than they should. Also, customers have to wait in long lines and they become angry. I don't like angry customers because angry customers mean LESS customers and that means less money, and I don't need that," he said, pointing to himself.

Callie shakes her head. "I can't afford to lose my job right now, YOU know that."

"And I can't afford to lose my business so whose problem is bigger?" he pointed behind him with his thumb. "Get outta here kid before I call the cops."

Callie clenches her jaw as she stares him down before snatching the apron off and throwing it at him. Grabbing her belongings, she speaks up. "You always had something slick to say because of the color of my skin."

He nonetheless ignores her and she rushes out, leaving the deli as everyone watches.

When she gets home, her reminder of paying the bills resurfaces once she notices the mail on the kitchen table. Sighing, she goes to her room and strips down to her boxers and sports bra. It seemed like everything was falling apart. First, she lost her bestfriend just a few weeks ago. Then, her mom kicked her out with little to no money; now this. She was back at square one when it came to trying to get her life together.

Laying on her bed, she closes her eyes only for a knock to come from the front door. She groans and gets up, slipping on a pair of basketball shorts and a wife beater.

"Hey Callie!" exclaims her elderly neighbor when she opens the door, "just letting you know the mail came today and I got yours!" She holds out two envelopes.

"Thanks, I really appreciate that, Ms.Cline," Callie says, forcing a smile.

Ms.Cline laughs. "Oh, no problem. So how are you, have you been getting along okay?"

"Uh well," Callie hesitates, "y-yeah I've been good. How about ya' self?"

It was evident to the lady that Callie was lying, but she didn't push her. "I've been good, great actually. Sammy misses you though, he's always at the door expecting you."

Callie's smile is genuine this time as she thinks about the giant, yet friendly dog. "Well I can come over now, if that's alright with you."

"Of course," Ms.Cline says, gesturing for the younger girl to follow her.

Callie notices the new doorbell Ms.Cline had gotten installed right under her apartment number: 727.

"Sammy!" Ms.Cline yells as Callie closes the door behind them. A gold retriever came running from one of the back rooms with his tongue hung out.

"Hey boy!" Callie exclaims, bending down to scratch him behind his ears. "I missed you." Sammy licks her face and barks causing her to laugh.

Ms.Cline smiles at the both of them. "Would you like to stay for dinner?" she asks, going into the kitchen to check the food in the oven.

"Oh no, that's alright I just came to see Sammy," Callie answers, giving him one last pat before standing straight.

Ms.Cline comes over to her. "You sure?" There's plenty for the both of us."

Callie nods her head. "Yes, thank you for the offer."

"Okay," Ms.Cline pauses, "if you ever need help I'm here okay?

Callie shoves her hands into her pockets. "Ye-yeah thanks." She waves her and Sammy goodbye before going back to her place.

Slipping off her slides, she sat at the table and looked at the mail from Ms.Cline. "Ughh," she groans, putting her head in her hands once she realizes it's a late notice for the light bill.

The next morning, Callie ate a bowl of cereal and began applying for as many jobs as she could online. She was even contemplating accepting more than one because she didn't have any extra money of family to fall back on.

In the evening, she decided to finish the painting she began months ago; too busy with work to finish it.

She gathers her materials and was off to the local park, in hopes to uplift her current mood.

The sun shines down on her as she takes her time walking. It gave her a sense of peace, something she's been wanting since yesterday.

"Hey, California!"

Callie turns her head toward the voice, her vibration increasing at the use of the nickname. "Hey, Joe." She walks up to his ice cream truck and leans against it.

"Want some ice cream? I have your favorite this time and get this. " He sticks his arm out of the open window and points at the prices on the outside of the truck. "Buy one get one free AND, it's 5% off the first one. So it's $7.27."

727.

727.

It replays in her head like a broken record.

"Callie, you alright?"

She snaps out of it. "Uhh, yeah. I have to go. Maybe next time?" She speeds off as her mind races. She was aware of angel numbers but she's never encountered synchronization, until now.

Once she got to the park she sat on a bench, put her materials next to her, and pulled out her phone to begin searching.

"Angel number 727 is an indication that positive news will enter your life in the very near future," she reads, with raised eyebrows as something sparks in her.

Coincidence? She thought

Although deep down something told her it wasn't.

A pair of black shoes appear in her peripheral vision. "That's quite outstanding," they say, startling Callie.

She looks up, a pale, elderly man in a grey suit and matching top hat. "Oh, uh thanks," she mumbles, glancing over at her unfinished artwork.

"Mind if I take a seat?"

She hesitates, taking in her surroundings. "Uh...sure."

He sits, leaving a gap in between them " I haven't seen anything like this since I was a young boy," he pauses, taking off his hat, revealing his gray and white hair. "You don't mind if I take a closer look do you?"

Callie shrugs, allowing the man to pick up the canvas. "Look at the detail on this, it's magnificent," he says, in a giddy tone.

Callie looks at him strangely, she's never been around someone of his kind: proper.

"Take my card," he says, pulling it from the inside of his suit jacket with his middle and index finger "I'm interested in your work and I'd like to do business with you." He stands from the bench and puts on his hat with a wave and saunter's away.

Callie watches him in shock before slowly analyzing his card. His companies name was on it along with his personal information, but the address stood out the most.

727 Pinecohn Ln

The councilwoman's desk was terribly cluttered, with stacks of papers and old newspaper and magazine articles strewn over it. Absentmindedly, Tara peered at some of it while she waited for her return. The Ninja Head Councilwoman had asked to speak with her after training that day; it didn't sound too urgent. If it had been a mission, she would have had to meet her in the council room, just like all the other shinobi and kunoichi did. What could it possibly be about? Was she in trouble? No, couldn't be. Tara always followed the Academy rules: she never left the dormitory after hours nor did she start fights, outside of the sparring field, that is. Perhaps the young girl had received a message from her older sister, Lorinda, who was still gone on her mission in Southeast Asia, and had been called there to get an update on how she was doing. Tara shrugged the speculating thoughts away; she would find out soon enough.

To pass the time, the 18 year old was attempting to organize some of the clutter, neatly straightening up the stacks of articles , casually throwing away balled up pieces of paper, when the edge of a polaroid photograph caught her eye. Curious, the brown skinned teenager picked it up and took a look. It had never occurred to her that the councilwoman was the kind to decorate her desk with nostalgic memorabilia

It was a picture of young African American woman in her mid 20s. She was very pretty, her hair big and in a retro jerry curled style. The lady was wearing a broad shouldered pink blazer over a black dress with a matching neon belt. She was posing with her back against a fence that bordered off an area of a beach, the ocean in the background. Judging by the style and the quality of the photo, and the obvious shoulder pads, it was probably taken sometime in the 80s. Who was she? Tara wondered to herself. Was she a relative of the councilwoman Nicolette Murasaki? Although the sensei was of French and Japanese origin, it was possible to have the black woman in her family. Those days, shinobi came from all over the world took missions to aid in making the world a better place. The elder woman seldom spoke of her family, but surely she would have mentioned someone as poised and stylish as this. The more the teenage New Yorker studied the mysterious person, the more familiar she seemed. Had she seen her somewhere before? Maybe the woman had been an actress or famous supermodel in the 1980s? Or perhaps she happened to be one of the Head Sensei's former students? Tara flipped the polaroid to the back in hopes of finding some sort of description. She gasped. There, in cursive letters read, Loretta Davison, Venice Beach, 1986. The young ninja's jaws dropped in disbelief. No wonder the lady had looked so familiar; it was a picture of her mother who in her youth, had looked exactly like her older sister Lorinda!

"There you are, Tara, dear!" came the sudden voice of an older woman, from the direction of the door. "I didn't expect you to be here so early! I hope I hadn't kept you waiting long."

"No, maam," the teenage girl exclaimed, bowing customarily upon the councilwoman's entrance. The Head Ninja of the Academy, Councilwoman Nicolette was indeed a woman to be respected. Not only had she trained a reasonable number of ninjas in martial arts and delegate humanitarian missions, but she had was the one who had opened the secret shinobi school which doubled as an orphanage. Usually the school took in orphans like Tara, whose parents had died on missions, but it also took in others. All children were raised and instructed in martial arts and ninja weaponry until the age of 16, then they were given the option of continuing the shinobi lifestyle or pursuing a regular life. Either way, the Academy was there to support them and help them until they were ready to go to college and pursue careers. Madam Murasaki had been the one to pioneer the whole program.

"Oh, I see you found the old photograph," the elder woman exclaimed, her eyes lighting up, "I found it when I happened to be going through some old case files. I wanted to surprise you and Lorinda with it, but it seems that the cat is out of the bag now." Tara smiled weakly in gratitude, but she was too taken aback to reply. So, this was her and Lorinda's mother; the one whose very footsteps they were striving to walk in. Tara had only been a baby when her parents died, so she never knew what they looked like. Her older sister, Lorinda, having been at least 4 years old at the time, and had had a little more time to get to know them, but she could only remember their appearance vaguely All of the instructors often remarked on how uncanny the resemblance was between Lorinda and their mother; she was the spitting image of her, the same soft nose and full lips, the same high cheek bones, even the same height Now that Tara was able to see for herself, a pang of jealousy stabbed her heart. The teachers had all been right.

The former kunoichi seemed to sense how she was feeling. "Your mother was a credit to the academy," the graying councilwoman murmured, touching Tara lightly on the shoulder, "A female ninja with a sharp mind and a compassionate heart was rather hard to find in those days. I see a great deal of her in you, Tara."

The shy teenager thanked the councilwoman but deep down, she wished that the 70 something year old woman hadn't said that. It had been very kind of her to try to make her feel better but it wasn't true Tara looked nothing like her mother or sister, nothing! She did not have her sister's lovely almond eye shape, or feminine bone structure; her features was much plainer, understated, some even said it was slightly intimidating, a feature that was once considered more preferable for a ninja. Perhaps, when going up against dangerous people in the field, it was beneficial to look stern and unemotional, but when it came to one's social life, it didn't encourage many invitations. One sensei had told Tara that she looked more like her father, with his wise eyes and thick hair. It might have been meant for a compliment, but no girl wanted to be told that she looked like a man, even if it was her father. The head councilwoman dismissed her, and bowing once more, Tara set off for her room, which was in the girl dormitory on the other side of campus. She sighed deeply to herself, glancing at the retro polaroid again. Well, she might not have her mother's beauty, it was still nice to know that they shared a love for the ocean.