NIBBLES THE MOUSE IS ABLE TO SHOW GREAT BRAVERY AS A KNIGHT IN SHINING ARMOR ! CAN U BE BRAVE LIKE NIBBLES
In Sir Mousalot - A Knight's Tail, a mouse named Nibbles imagines he's a knight and uses his new-found bravery to save himself from a "squeaky" situation. As Sir Mousalot, Nibbles proves that even a little imagination can help you cope with everyday challenges, big and small. Through Nibbles and his wonderful imagination, I hope to teach kids that the power to protect yourself is already within you! Read, learn and be brave!
"The officers were surprised at how silent Sebastian was. They expected him to be more wound-up over the fact that he just heard of the death of his parents. For the second time in his life, maybe the third, Sebastian felt like he didn’t have a care in the world for anything. Although this was not his usual personality, even the feel of the car easing out of the driveway onto the street did not bother him. Sebastian sat silent in the back seat, his head hung, feeling lost and having no one –or no where –to turn to. “May I see some identification?”The female officer asked politely. Sebastian didn’t say a word as he reached for his wallet and passed it through the open window, separating him from the police. “Thank you,”she said, and started to search for his birth certificate. When she found it, she quickly understood why Sebastian was so upset and why he didn’t say anything. She glanced in the rearview mirror, handed back the wallet with all its’contents then whispered to her partner, “He’s twenty-two.”Her partner shook his head slowly, and even though Sebastian heard her, he didn’t care one way or the other. Once they parked at the emergency entrance of Memorial Hospital and Sebastian released from the rear of the car, many of the staff members were staring at him, trying to sympathize with his loss. The first person to greet him was Rachel’s staff member, Stefan. He held out a hand in as a friendly gesture, but Sebastian was a void on two legs. “Excuse us,”the male officer addressed Stefan, driving Sebastian passed him and directing Sebastian like a prisoner to the room where his parents lay, then to Sebastian said, “Are you going to be okay?”Sebastian remained silent and the second face he saw was Deanne Newman. She had appeared from the elevator doors and, in quick steps, approached Sebastian and the officers. Although she had a stern attitude, she also respected law enforcement, noticing that the female officer had held up her hand. Sebastian had stood his ground as best he could. His legs were slightly shaky and he didn’t want to cause a scene. Slowly he raised his arms outward, indicating that he wanted some space, which was granted. He then –just as slowly –pulled back the drapes and saw what was left of Michael and Rachel Masters. Sebastian stepped forward, closed the drape behind him, though one of the officers had followed him. “¡ Papá, madre!”Paul Nosach There was barely anything left of his parents: Mangled and twisted bodies,"
She grabbed the dogs off him since they had progressed to smelling parts of him better left alone. The smallest was a Jack Russell.
OPENED MY EYES as the cool, damp air caressed me in a fashion I haven’t felt in years. There wasn’t much around but trees and bushes. Sitting up I noticed a small fire going in the pit at the center of the grove. Wait… Grove? I shot to my feet and surveyed my surroundings. Two benches, a small fire burning low in the pit, a canteen of water, some bread, and a chunk of meat on a wooden plank by some other small stuff on the bench. I was looking at the row of trees for any movement but the forest beyond the grove looked still as still as a painting. The bushes sealed the grove off from the rest of the forest as they were planted perfectly between each massive tree trunk to form a perfect circle. They were groomed to a flat appearance on the sides while the top remained wild and free. This looked oddly familiar. Realization set in the moment I turned back to face the fire and saw a man standing there. He was bald and his robes would have made anyone else think he was a monk from a corny B rated movie, but this man was most definitely not a monk. My heart picked up speed as I remembered whom this man really was. A priest. A very powerful Druid priest. As if he knew my thoughts, he smiled and bent forward leaning his face down in a gesture of greeting. When his face became level with mine again he wasn’t so amused to see me. “Bryce Marshall.” He said my name in a chiding tone. “Please come sit with me Bryce.” He walked around the fire and lowered himself to one of the benches, then patted the other to indicate where he wanted me. I wasn’t sure what to think, to be honest. His smile was reassuring but there was an undertone of despondency I almost didn’t catch. I slowly made my way to the bench and sat next to him. He sat and watched the flames dance slowly as they licked at the wood in a hungry frenzy. The only light came from the small fire and reflected off his face in a soft orange hue. Taking his lead, I sat and stared at the fire. When he finally spoke it made me jump. “Bryce. Can you tell me why I brought you here?” He asked in a low voice as he sat watching the flames dance. I was at a loss for words so I remained quiet as I followed suit watching the display the flames provided before me. “No idea? I figured as much.” He was being borderline rude. He sighed heavily as he stood up and walked to the opposite side of the fire. I was now staring at him through the flames. “The Divine allowed me to guide you in the journey to save your son, your bloodline but you chose to ignore my wisdom and carry on like a pigheaded Roman soldier. Can you tell me why this is?” His words hit me like a wrecking ball to the gut. I had no explanation for him. “Nothing huh?” Shaking his head he started to make his way back around the fire towards me. “One person in your current lifecycle has changed the stars for you all. This person has been tasked with breaking the cycle your bloodline has been stuck in. The phases of change have been set in motion, Bryce. None of which you have been aware of.” Again, I was at a loss for words. I continued to stare at the flames as they hungrily licked at the wood like demons feasting on the souls of those sent to the underworld. A soft chuckle emanated from his mouth as he made his way around the fire. “You know better Bryce. The underworld, as you call it, does not exist. Rather, it is a different plane in which the negative energies are allowed to flourish and gain power from those who feed it with their own negativity.” He stopped in front of me blocking the fire from my view. “This plane was your destiny until I stepped in. I believed in you when the Divine were willing to banish you. To stick you in an equally dark plane of existence that matched your soul. I gave up my existence as a mortal to help you and your son.” I looked up into his eyes. “Stubborn, naïve Bryce.” He scolded, shaking his head. I held his gaze as he continued to watch me for any reaction other than the blank look I was giving him. “You truly do not understand the magnitude of what is happening here do you Bryce?” I finally got annoyed. “I am a forty year old man, goddammit! How dare you speak down to me like a child.” I shouted as I stood and stared him in the eye. He never once lost his gaze, nor did he show any fear to my aggressive advancement upon him. He simply stood his ground and continued to weigh and measure me. “Your aggression does nothing for you here Bryce. It does not alter what is and what will be. It only lends more reason for the Divine to take you as they wish and deposit you in your rightful plane of existence. The darkness within you is building once more. This worries the Divine.” The heat in his eyes wasn’t fueled by anger but passion. Passion for what he believed in… Me. “Something I refuse to allow.” His eyes squinted slightly as he spoke and I recognized the determination behind the man. I can’t say I missed Erwin Orr all that much; he was rather pushy when he chose to be. Everything came flooding back to me in a rush of pictures in my mind. All the events of the past lifecycles and the feelings flooded over me from all those years of frustration and anger. “Yes, Bryce. I fought for you and put my existence on the line for you and your son. I believed you could change, that you could help Aubrie break this curse. It hurts me to see what you have become.” He spoke with a soft, slightly defeated voice. “The Divine took your free will away the moment they marked you with darkness in your soul. Their actions were unjustified and created doubt in me of their intentions for us all.” He shook his head and his demeanor changed to solemnity. “Paige could very well have taken your life and sent you to the plane you were destined to be so many years ago.” He stood barely two inches from me but he seemed worlds away. “I’m not the same person I was when I was younger Erwin. People change.” I spat the last bit at him. It was laced with enough vehemence to get the point across. I looked at him as he continued to search within my eyes. “Stop that.” I looked away from the priest."
CULLEN PEERED INSIDE the trunk lid. The collection of works by John Steinbeck and the notebooks full of notes and freewriting exercises for his summer class lay in a disheveled pile near the back of the trunk. Cullen slammed the lid shut. He stepped away from the car, a Honda Accord he’d borrowed from his friend and teammate Mike Ochoa, and looked at the trailer. A few plastic chairs lay scattered in the yard, surrounded by small tables underneath a sagging blue tarp. The land, enclosed on two sides by steep ravines, had grassy pasturelands planted with alfalfa, trefoil, and timothy. The morning fog was thick, so the treetops merged with the gray sky. Cullen hated the weather in mid-August. The topography of the Monroe County hardscrabble farmland trapped the trailer in a cocoon of humid heat. Cullen took a deep breath, his emotions oscillating like they always did at home. He felt an aching in his bones he couldn’t explain. Was it worthlessness? Vulnerability? All he knew for sure was that after a two-day visit, he was ready to leave. He needed to go back into the house one more time to make sure he had all of his belongings. Cullen stepped onto the frontward-leaning wooden deck. The deck absorbed his weight and bowed slightly in the middle. He looked up and noticed that the siding was smudged with mildew. He opened the front door and entered the living room, dimly lit and wallpaper yellowing with age. From the back room came sounds of his father stirring. Cullen frantically dug into his pockets to make sure he hadn’t locked the car keys inside the Honda Accord. It had happened before. He grinned when he heard the keys jingle in his pocket. He quickly ran through his mind the list of everything he needed: clean clothes, clean football uniform, shoulder pads, money, backpack, and Kroger’s groceries. Cullen gave one quick look around the room. The odor, which he hadn’t noticed earlier in the weekend, now left Cullen a bit nauseated. The room smelled like someone had holed up in it with dirty clothes and rotting food. Cigarette butts filled every ashtray. Flecks of ash were sprinkled here and there on the stained carpet. Cullen turned to leave. A droplet of blood slid onto his arm. He looked down and dabbed it with a finger. He caressed his swollen lip with the back of the same hand, and felt a slight sticking pain course through his mouth. He curled his lips and placed a hand on the screen door. “Where you going, son?” Cullen froze. He straightened his back and spoke into the screen. “Back to school, Dad. I told you on Friday, I could only stay for a couple days. Coach Miles needs me back to show the new freshmen around a little more.” “I was hoping you’d stay longer.” Cullen let out a long breath. “I’m just lucky Coach gave us a couple of days off.” Cullen turned around to face his father. Wendell Brewer, fairly thickset, had creases running across his round face. A mop of brown hair, tinged with gray, jutted from his head in various directions, a wisp hanging low on his forehead. His small eyes and fleshy lips were open. Cullen waited for his father to say something. “I’m sorry we didn’t get to spend enough time together this weekend, you know, as father and son.” “Save it, Dad. I came home to check on you. Where were you on Friday? At Maggie’s Bar in Union? The only thing you did was leave me the past-due bill notices on the kitchen table.” Cullen felt his lip pulsing in pain, although the bleeding had stopped. Wendell stepped back, his mouth trembling. “I didn’t want you to worry about those.” Cullen set his shoulders. “You really don’t remember what happened when you came home, do you?” Wendell raised an open palm at Cullen. “Son, I had been drinking a little…and…” “You staggered through the front door around 4:00 a.m. and went straight for the fridge looking for another beer. You saw the bills lying on the table and began screaming at me. You wanted to know why the bills hadn’t been paid. I told you I didn’t have any money to pay them right now. You went off! You picked up dirty plates from the sink and threw them at me. One of the plates broke against the wall and a piece cut my lip!” Cullen pointed at his mouth for emphasis. “Then it happened again on Saturday night; sleep all day, drink all night, with a little bit of fist-fighting-your-son thrown in.” Wendell looked down at the floor. “…I don’t remember.” “Because you blacked out! When I tried to calm you down, you took a swing at me and told me that I was a disgrace and an embarrassment. You said you wished I had been the one to die from cancer and not Mom. Do you know how that makes me feel? Do you know how it makes me feel to see you like this every time I come ‘home’ for a visit?” “Don’t you talk to me like that!” Wendell demanded. “You never come back here anymore to visit…not at Thanksgiving, Christmas, nothing. When you do, it’s usually because you want something or need something. It’s okay for you to ignore your old man most of the time, but it’s funny how you come back when something’s wrong.” Cullen folded his arms and shook his head. “You can’t be serious. I never come home, Dad, because it kills me to see what you’ve become. The dad from Friday and Saturday night is all I remember anymore. I want the dad that watched me play football since I was eight, the dad who raised all of that money for our high school team at James Monroe so we could get new uniforms. That dad is gone. Now, I’m stuck with a drunk. I swear I don’t know how Mom put up with it as long as she did.” Wendell’s eyes blazed. He knocked off a small lamp resting on a table near the wall with one swipe. The lamp cracked into two pieces as it hit the wall. He kicked it over the table. Cullen felt every muscle in his body tighten. He stepped back, bracing himself against the door. “You watch your mouth boy! You know nothing about your mother and me. I loved her and she loved me. Do you have any idea what it’s like to lose your job and your wife in the same year? No, no you don’t.” Cullen lowered his voice. “That was five years ago. Mom died and you got fired from the state park because of your drinking. And yes, I know what it’s like…I loved Mom. She meant everything to me. Instead of us helping each other, you became even more of a lush than ever before.” He reached back and pressed the latch on the screen door. “Look at you. No job, no family that wants to be with you, and soon you are going to lose the farm. Well, I’m done. I’m not going to be your punching bag anymore, just like Mom got tired of it.” Wendell charged at Cullen, but Cullen slipped out the door, leaped down the deck steps and tossed himself into the car. He managed to get the key inserted in the ignition and throw the car in reverse as Wendell tried to pounce on the hood. Cullen flushed the pedal to the floor of the car, kicking up pieces of gravel and rock as he climbed the driveway. He refused to look back at the trailer, but he did cast a look back at the farm, which grew smaller until it disappeared into the fog. He climbed the ravine and guided the car onto West Virginia Route 12. Cullen settled back into the seat and began to sob. He gripped the steering wheel, unsure whether to be angry or sad about his dad and their relationship. Cullen sped through a stop sign just outside of Peterstown. A beige van slammed on brakes as a horn sounded. Cullen nearly leaped out of his seat and waved apologetically at the female driver, then buckled himself in. He knew the route from Lindside to Beaumont quite well. In fact, he had the trip memorized. West Virginia Route 12 would become U.S. Route 219. The route then headed north through Peterstown and entered rural southwest Monroe County. Passing through Cashmere, Ballard, and Red Sulphur Springs, Route 12 met West Virginia Route 122. The highway paralleled the Greenbrier River and passed Big Bend Mountain before it joined West Virginia Route 3. The route then wound northeast along the river to Barnettown before heading north through another mountainous area, eventually leading onto Interstate 64. Thinking"
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