Wednesday, September 16, 2009

On Someone Else's Turf

Julie Henig                                                                                  
Hard brown eyes bore into me,  backing me outside. I'd been in control only a moment before, but he'd broken my grasp eaasily. Growling deeply, advancing steadily on fourpaws, he's huge--his head only a foot lower than mine. My heart racing, I look for escape and see only one: to jump on a shelf and scramble to the roof. But before I  can act, he, as if muttering, "Well, I've made my point," turns away and pads back into his kennel and sits. My hand shakes as I slam the gate and think, what if?

Billie Payton Settles                                                                     
We spent a lot of time in the water that summer, scuba diving and snorkeling. One day, floating face down on the surface while Pete dove, I saw another diver in the water to the right of me. I looked again---it was a quiet patch of ocean---the swimmer was not human! Twenty yards away and a few feet below, a giant Manta Ray looked back at me. As I hung there, awestruck, the ray circled me, looking interested. Then it flapped its wings and swam away. I think I was noted and accepted in its watery turf.

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