Life Each stage: the playground for unspoken tales… The team: Love, Passion and Hope…True Love never fails! Each life: the struggle throughout growing stages… The pain or the pleasure: our teachers through ages… My vision: an eyeful of life and a mouthful of beauty. My deeds born of Love and Wisdom, not duty! I love to embrace with my full heart engaged, And I’m loyal to learning even when I’m enraged, For the short flares of tears I won’t put side by side   With the joy and the pleasure of One Fabulous Ride!

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Escape Bang! There’s suddenly a resounding boom as if a bomb was just set off. People are looking around wondering what that was. All of a sudden smoke is at the windows. You can hear screams cry out. The temperature increases immensely. It is as if we just entered a sauna. I can hear someone crying out who seems to be trapped. “Help help I’m over here” I rush to his voice to try and find him. It’s darker than night. Completely black. Turns out it’s my friend Bobby. I immediately help remove the debris from his body. His leg is clearly broken. There is no way he can walk. I know for a fact that we have to get out of the building if we want to live. I’m just puzzled as to how I am going to help him out of here without him walking. He is a little bit of a heavy fellow so I cannot move him on my own. I try to listen for other people who may need help or can help me. I can feel the air getting harder and harder to breathe. At this point I feel I am just breathing in smoke. I think how could something like this happen. I knew I had to find a way out. I mange to get bobby on his feet. It is time for us to try and exit this building.                   We mange to find the elevator shaft but it isn’t working. It seems that all the electricity in the building has been lost. We are walking around for what seems like hours looking searching for a way out. We were just walking with our hands on the walls (well Bobby was limping) trying to feel around for a door. Even though we work here everyday it is still tough to navigate through the darkness. Then we see it. The flashing red EXIT…

i sit on a patch over looking the ocean My body quivers like it’s full of emotion the sun glows a pitcure ontop of the water it feels like tis giving out a whole lot of power the sky turns dim as  the winds die down the water stops moving and the sun goes down night is upon it’s time for me to go tommrrow will be another day to watch a brand new show

CHAPTER 1. Loomings. Call me Ishmael. Some years ago—never mind how long precisely—having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world. It is a way I have of driving off the spleen and regulating the circulation. Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people’s hats off—then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can. This is my substitute for pistol and ball. With a philosophical flourish Cato throws himself upon his sword; I quietly take to the ship. There is nothing surprising in this. If they but knew it, almost all men in their degree, some time or other, cherish very nearly the same feelings towards the ocean with me. There now is your insular city of the Manhattoes, belted round by wharves as Indian isles by coral reefs—commerce surrounds it with her surf. Right and left, the streets take you waterward. Its extreme downtown is the battery, where that noble mole is washed by waves, and cooled by breezes, which a few hours previous were out of sight of land. Look at the crowds of water-gazers there. Circumambulate the city of a dreamy Sabbath afternoon. Go from Corlears Hook to Coenties Slip, and from thence, by Whitehall, northward. What do you see?—Posted like silent sentinels all around the town, stand thousands upon thousands of mortal men fixed in ocean reveries. Some leaning against the spiles; some seated upon…

I was just fitting my key into the door when I noticed a man at my elbow. I had not seen him approach, and the sudden appearance made me start. He was a slim man, with a short brown beard and small, gimlety blue eyes. I recognized him as the occupant of a flat on the top floor, with whom I had passed the time of day on the stairs.   ‘Can I speak to you?’ he said. ‘May I come in for a minute?’ He was steadying his voice with an effort, and his hand was pawing my arm.   I got my door open and motioned him in. No sooner was he over the threshold than he made a dash for my back room, where I used to smoke and write my letters. Then he bolted back.   ‘Is the door locked?’ he asked feverishly, and he fastened the chain with his own hand.   ‘I’m very sorry,’ he said humbly. ‘It’s a mighty liberty, but you looked the kind of man who would understand. I’ve had you in my mind all this week when things got troublesome. Say, will you do me a good turn?’   ‘I’ll listen to you,’ I said. ‘That’s all I’ll promise.’ I was getting worried by the antics of this nervous little chap.   There was a tray of drinks on a table beside him, from which he filled himself a stiff whisky-and-soda. He drank it off in three gulps, and cracked the glass as he set it down.   ‘Pardon,’ he said, ‘I’m a bit rattled tonight. You see, I happen at this moment to be dead.’   I sat down in an armchair and lit my pipe.   ‘What does it feel like?’ I asked. I was pretty certain that I had to deal with a madman.   A smile flickered over his drawn face. ‘I’m not mad—yet. Say, Sir,…

In 1976, I was then ten years old young. My family was driven back to Masara, Maco, Davao del Norte  from Suricon Mining, of Nonoc Island in Surigao del Norte, after two years of  transition period, when the Samar Mining Company stopped its operation in Masara.During the transition period, my father jumped off to Surigao where Suricon mining, in Nococ island ,opened up hiring to employ drivers and miners. The place or the situation was very different from Masara, where we used to live.Nonoc island  is situated Surigao, where ocean surrounding it. Normally it is rich in sea foods. People there had no problems of viands as fish were so cheap, otherwise we eat rice with grated coconut.  Houses in the place were made of bamboo and walled with “Nipa”. We rented a small house which we fondly called “NARRA” meaning all in one room thus: (in Visayan language) “Narra diha mo kaon, Narra diha matulog, narra diha magluto, Narra diha mangihi and Narra diha tanan.”. Since the place is prone of typhoon, usually when it rains, the “Nippa” or “Pawod” roofings flies off by strong winds accompanying the rain. So everyone sleeping in the evening would be awakened by multiple lightning shots with deafening thunderstorms. Of fear, we all ran out and jumped off to the ground bruised and muddy, because there was no stairs. It was a terrible life. Therefore, I longed to get back to Masara.Masara is a cold place, typhoon free area as protected by mountains. Although the mountains deprived  people to see the sea water. but hot waterfalls were springing  and rivers were flowing. The most visited and loved is the beautiful hot spring. The place was then rich of fruit trees such as banana, papayas, avocados, guavas, mangoes, “guavano”, “santol”, and more, were freely bearing left and unattended. The veggies like “Gabi or “karlang”” sayote, were just sprouting everywhere , in the streetside and…

Called in to investigate an unusual insurance claim, Finlay Nichols discovers something is seriously wrong with Thailand’s offshore gas fields. Propelled into an ultimate stakes game with the Burmese military government, he realizes that if he can’t solve the problem and stop the coming catastrophe then the 21st century’s second energy war will ignite within days.   The Andaman Sea, South East Asia   A gentle hiss of escaping gas instantly killed the conversation. Nkong glanced up from the pipework and saw panic in his friends’ eyes. He dropped his tools, turned and ran for the exit. The automatic door proved quicker than he was though. As the alarms began to sound, its hydraulic rams closed it at an astonishing speed and held it shut with a force he couldn’t hope to push against. Nkong banged in frustration on the steel door knowing there was no other way out. He took a last deep breath of the rapidly fouling air and turned to look for the emergency breathing equipment. Both sets had been claimed. Their new owners already had the air tanks on their backs and were hurriedly donning the full face masks. There were only two sets of breathing equipment because there was only ever supposed to be two people in the room. The difficult task of manhandling the gas tanks into position required at least half a dozen though. And like the rest, he’d willingly taken the risk because to do otherwise would have cost him his job.   Nkong realised now that going for the door had been a stupid mistake. Still holding his breath, he rushed one of the men and set about tearing a mask off. Four of his former companions had come to the same decision at the same time and a hard elbow in the face momentarily stunned him before he was pulled off balance and flung to one side.   He dropped…

THE CAPTAIN OF THE "POLE-STAR." [Being an extract from the singular journal of JOHN M'ALISTER RAY, student of medicine.]September 11th.—Lat. 81 degrees 40' N.; long. 2 degrees E. Still lying-to amid enormous ice fields. The one which stretches away to the north of us, and to which our ice-anchor is attached, cannot be smaller than an English county. To the right and left unbroken sheets extend to the horizon. This morning the mate reported that there were signs of pack ice to the southward. Should this form of sufficient thickness to bar our return, we shall be in a position of danger, as the food, I hear, is already running somewhat short. It is late in the season, and the nights are beginning to reappear.This morning I saw a star twinkling just over the fore-yard, the first since the beginning of May. There is considerable discontent among the crew, many of whom are anxious to get back home to be in time for the herring season, when labour always commands a high price upon the Scotch coast. As yet their displeasure is only signified by sullen countenances and black looks, but I heard from the second mate this afternoon that they contemplated sending a deputation to the Captain to explain their grievance. I much doubt how he will receive it, as he is a man of fierce temper, and very sensitive about anything approaching to an infringement of his rights. I shall venture after dinner to say a few words to him upon the subject. I have always found that he will tolerate from me what he would resent from any other member of the crew.Amsterdam Island, at the north-west corner of Spitzbergen, is visible upon our starboard quarter—a rugged line of volcanic rocks, intersected by white seams, which represent glaciers. It is curious to think that at the present moment there is probably no human being nearer to us…

CHAPTER I—START IN LIFEI was born in the year 1632, in the city of York, of a good family, though not of that country, my father being a foreigner of Bremen, who settled first at Hull. He got a good estate by merchandise, and leaving off his trade, lived afterwards at York, from whence he had married my mother, whose relations were named Robinson, a very good family in that country, and from whom I was called Robinson Kreutznaer; but, by the usual corruption of words in England, we are now called—nay we call ourselves and write our name—Crusoe; and so my companions always called me.I had two elder brothers, one of whom was lieutenant-colonel to an English regiment of foot in Flanders, formerly commanded by the famous Colonel Lockhart, and was killed at the battle near Dunkirk against the Spaniards. What became of my second brother I never knew, any more than my father or mother knew what became of me.Being the third son of the family and not bred to any trade, my head began to be filled very early with rambling thoughts. My father, who was very ancient, had given me a competent share of learning, as far as house-education and a country free school generally go, and designed me for the law; but I would be satisfied with nothing but going to sea; and my inclination to this led me so strongly against the will, nay, the commands of my father, and against all the entreaties and persuasions of my mother and other friends, that there seemed to be something fatal in that propensity of nature, tending directly to the life of misery which was to befall me.My father, a wise and grave man, gave me serious and excellent counsel against what he foresaw was my design. He called me one morning into his chamber, where he was confined by the gout, and expostulated very warmly…

CHAPTER I  – I MEET SIR HENRY CURTIS It is a curious thing that at my age—fifty-five last birthday—I should find myself taking up a pen to try to write a history. I wonder what sort of a history it will be when I have finished it, if ever I come to the end of the trip! I have done a good many things in my life, which seems a long one to me, owing to my having begun work so young, perhaps. At an age when other boys are at school I was earning my living as a trader in the old Colony. I have been trading, hunting, fighting, or mining ever since. And yet it is only eight months ago that I made my pile. It is a big pile now that I have got it—I don't yet know how big—but I do not think I would go through the last fifteen or sixteen months again for it; no, not if I knew that I should come out safe at the end, pile and all. But then I am a timid man, and dislike violence; moreover, I am almost sick of adventure. I wonder why I am going to write this book: it is not in my line. I am not a literary man, though very devoted to the Old Testament and also to the "Ingoldsby Legends." Let me try to set down my reasons, just to see if I have any.First reason: Because Sir Henry Curtis and Captain John Good asked me.Second reason: Because I am laid up here at Durban with the pain in my left leg. Ever since that confounded lion got hold of me I have been liable to this trouble, and being rather bad just now, it makes me limp more than ever. There must be some poison in a lion's teeth, otherwise how is it that when your wounds are healed they…