Rolling The Dice

Posts for Blog Rolling the Dice.

“Testament of a People” Written by: Alex M.

Posted by on May 8, 2018 in Rolling The Dice | Comments Off on “Testament of a People” Written by: Alex M.

“Last Words” prompt Testament of a People Day 1 – We are first! We are here! The red planet! With our whole world watching, we landed; laying our first steps into the rust colored dust. I almost wish I was home for the parties, the celebrations; people all over our world clapping each other on the back for a job so well done. Ah, the champagne! It was evening, our time, when we landed. We had of course rehearsed it, again and again, at home, in space, until we could do it in our sleep. There could be, would be, no slip ups. And when the time came, we nailed it. I would...

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“Good People have Nothing To Fear” Written by: Dan Pape

Posted by on May 4, 2018 in Rolling The Dice | Comments Off on “Good People have Nothing To Fear” Written by: Dan Pape

Last Words Prompt “‘Good people have nothing to fear.’” There are some stories I have that I do not enjoy telling. This is one of them. I do not share it out of a desire for pity or as a back-handed acknowledgement of tragedy or really even as a form of catharsis. I share it because the people involved merit the telling. First, an awful backstory: my cousin, Ryan Zawada, died of a rare form of cancer when he was ten. Obviously, this event devastated my family and, ultimately, sundered it. Of course, none of that was Ryan’s fault. Trust me, you would have loved this kid. He was naturally...

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“Sober Forty-Two Meets Hammered Twenty-One” Written by: “The Meme Addict”

Posted by on Apr 19, 2018 in Rolling The Dice | Comments Off on “Sober Forty-Two Meets Hammered Twenty-One” Written by: “The Meme Addict”

(“What I Would Tell My 21 Year Old Self” prompt) Across from Nectar’s in Burlington was a parking lot with a small wooded area that we jokingly called the Executive Bathroom.  Many was the night that our gang of miscreants – Fatty, Spencer, Matt, Dave, and the Captain – would stumble downtown after hitting a few house parties, load up on Nectar’s World-Famous Gravy Fries, then make a pit stop at the Executive Bathroom.  You had to be careful because the Burlington P.D. knew about the throngs of drunk collegiates who used the copse as an open air pissoire and were keen...

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“What Would I Tell My 21-Year-Old Me?” Written by: Marcie “The Linguist”

Posted by on Apr 17, 2018 in Rolling The Dice | Comments Off on “What Would I Tell My 21-Year-Old Me?” Written by: Marcie “The Linguist”

Vodka is usually a bad idea. If you want pizza, eat it. Music will resolve many a problem. Try a little bit of everything. (Note: This applies to most situations.) Religion is optional. Faith is not. Peggy Carter is the best “superhero.” Cheese isn’t that bad after all. Road trips become intolerable when older. Write things down: lists, quotes, poems. Living alone is a valuable experience. Being alone is important as well. Be better about using your moisturizer. Shamrock shakes don’t taste as good. You don’t find your dream job. Do the ones you have well. Protect your heart from others more....

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“Spring” Written by: Alexander M.

Posted by on Apr 4, 2018 in Rolling The Dice | Comments Off on “Spring” Written by: Alexander M.

When spring comes, bringing with it the new life needed to fight the cold and darkness, it begins on the valley floor. It’s subtle at first, a gentle melody rather than a thunder; a trickle on a tree here, a berry on a bush there. As the warmth rises, so too comes its strength, rising to a crashing crescendo; a tide that sweeps across the mountain sides, and into my backyard. All around, life surrounds me. The chipmunk darting through the green grass, taking refuge in the wood pile, digging its holes for home in the ground. The beauty of the fragrant flowers, their marvelous odors,...

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“Spring Rituals: High-Flying” Written by: Marcie “The Linguist”

Posted by on Apr 1, 2018 in Rolling The Dice | Comments Off on “Spring Rituals: High-Flying” Written by: Marcie “The Linguist”

March is a tough month sometimes.  I often associate it with failed elementary school art projects of cotton-ball lambs and paper plate-maned lions that never really seemed to look like the animals they were meant to be.  It’s hard of another reason though, too. When I was little, in the windy, not-quite-spring month of March, my grandma would find one of her kites in the attic and bring it downstairs for us to have a go with it.  There were only two or three kites—I think—and the ones I remember were all the diamond ones, with the cross of thin bamboo or balsam wood stretching out the...

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