Always Greener

By: Ridgely Goldsborough

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"That's because Johnny's a TFB," Ted said to his new friend James. The two met the week before and became instant buddies.
"Huh? A what?" James seemed confused.
"A TFB—a trust fund baby. His grandfather invented some drill bit for offshore oil exploration that just about every company uses." Ted paused. "They made a killing."

"Must be nice," James smirked.
"Yeah—that's where most people go—the old grass is greener syndrome." Ted raised his eyebrows.
"What do you mean? If all my bills were paid…are you kidding? I'd be golden."

The two friends bantered back and forth heatedly, a familiar albeit recent afternoon repartee.
"Money never equals happiness," Ted continued. "There are a lot of miserable folk who pay their bills on time. The rich are among the worse."

"Yeah, well, if it were me, I'd put my whole life on auto-debit. Can you imagine?" James pumped his fist in the air. "Paid automatically, baby, without even firin' up the computer. Talk about sweet…"

"Like I mentioned, easy to say. Think about Johnny." Ted shook his head. "Did you hear what he said? He had to get a haircut, raise his GPA by a point and something else about dumping his girlfriend or he'd get cut off. That's ridiculous."
"You mean cut off by his trust? So what," James snorted. "I'd get rid of my hair and the girl if I had one."

"No you wouldn't, and that's the point. You'd tell your Dad to stick it in his ear and you'd mean it. Johnny won't do that."
Ted let his words sink in. James hesitated before answering.

"What are you saying? That he's a wimp?"
"In essence, yes," Ted nodded. "He has no backbone. Every time he ever has any major problem, someone else handles it. They don't let him fail so he never learns. It's sad."
"I tell you what—he could have a lot worse problems than that. I wish I had his kind of problems."

"No, you don't," Ted insisted. "You don't want to know what it's like to run to Mommy or Daddy for permission to do anything. You don't want to live with the shame of knowing that someone else will always wash your dirty laundry. You don't want to feel guilty about treating yourself differently than others even though you've been told all your life that you are different—especially when you had nothing to do with creating that difference in the first place. You don't, James, and you're lucky you don't have to."

"Relax, dude. No need to burst an artery. I just want to be famous at the bank. That's all." James winced at his friend. "Why are you so plugged in about this anyway?"

"Story of my life, bro' and it took me a long time to get over it. I came from a long line of TFBs and you never saw such a sad bunch—afraid, hesitant, second-guessers, non-committal—about everything I loathe in a person. Sorry if that sounds harsh. The whole wealth perpetuation thing is so highly over-rated." Ted stopped his litany.

"Wow! What a trip," James mumbled. "You—a TFB."
"Yeah—famous at the bank--`til the market crashed. Thank the heavens for that." Ted smiled. "Barely made it out alive."
"You're so weird." James furrowed his brow and confronted his friend. "Would you take it all back?"

Ted looked straight into his eyes. "Not in a million years, bro'. Not unless I earned it."

That's A View From The Ridge…

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www.aviewfromtheridge.com

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Ridgely began scribbling as soon as his fingers could curl around a pen. So began a love affair, interrupted periodically by schooling, business and any number of self-initiated distractions to mask the fear of pursuing his childhood dream-to be a writer.
The journey took him through Law School, a number of private companies, going public, a large merger and back to his desk, a computer with a keyboard and the daily challenge of following the dream.
Along the way, Ridgely founded and/or acted as publisher for Network Marketing Lifestyles magazine, Domain Street magazine and the Upline Journal along with dozens of books, audio and video materials. He writes several books per year, in addition to The Daily Column.
Ridgely holds an undergraduate degree from The University of Virginia, a law degree from Whittier College School of Law, is fluent in five languages and has spoken to audiences throughout Europe, Southeast Asia, Mexico and North America.

Another Lesson On Love, Understanding, Trust, And Innocence

By Oliver Mbamara

I was in Nigeria recently during the holidays. I used the period to embark on a filmmaking project. It was tough and challenging but I learned a lot. However, a particular experience stood out for me. It helped sustain me through the period, and continues to cheer up my present days.

THE CHALLENGE
I was producing and directing the said movie, as well as playing the lead role. The pressure and demand on me was therefore a little on the high side. It was tough and very challenging to manage the crowd of several excited cast and crew members. One of such days, as we (film cast and crew) were shouting and commanding each other trying to deal with the day's schedule, my attention was somehow drawn to a bunch of toddlers happily engaged in their world a few feet away. Though in the same environment as we were, the toddlers calmly but happily went about their business oblivious of the world of worry, concern, and demands of the surrounding cast and crew members.

BACKGROUND
The toddlers were a three-to-four year-old girl (Nneoma, my niece), a two year-old boy (Chidorom, my nephew), and a three-to-four year-old boy called Bobo (I had met him for the first time just days before). Bobo being of Yoruba parentage could only speak Yoruba language. He could not speak or "understand" English or Igbo, which happened to be the dialect of Nneoma and Chidorom. Nneoma and Chidorom being of Igbo parentage could only speak Igbo language. They could not speak or "understand" Yoruba language, which happened to be Bobo's language. Recently, my mother had visited my brother in Lagos and had developed likeness for Bobo. She therefore convinced Bobo's parents to let my brother bring Bobo along when next my brother was coming home to the village. So it was that my brother took Bobo along from Lagos (Western Nigeria) to Imo State (Eastern Nigeria) a journey of about 12 hours by road to celebrate Christmas in my village in Imo State, Nigeria.

COMMUNICATION
On this day, as I noticed the playing kids, I got the nudge to shut out the rowdy and noisy world of the adult cast and crew members and to instead tune in to whatever the toddlers were doing. In a moment, I observed that the kids were happily sharing food; feeding each other the remaining crumbs they were variously holding. Upon closer observation, I realized that the kids were speaking with each other as they interacted with themselves. "But what language are they using?" I quietly asked myself. I drew closer to them and listened even more closely to their utterances. Behold, Bobo was speaking Yoruba language, while Nneoma and Chidorom were speaking Igbo language, and from their interaction, I noticed that they completely comprehended each other.

IN A MOMENT
In that brief moment, I learned (or was reminded of) what could have taken me a long time to appreciate (or remember). These were beautiful souls encased in physical flesh as a Yoruba boy called Bobo, and two Ibo kids named Nneoma and Chidorom. They spoke different languages by their lips, but communicated by their hearts using the universal language of love. They trusted and believed in each other. They were honest with themselves and their innocence opened the door of love. Therefore, the barriers of the physical world such as tribe, language, parentage, society, language, were non-existent as such limitations would not thrive at the level from which these kids operated - the level of Soul consciousness.

LASTING MEMORY

The innocence on the faces of Bobo, Nneoma, and Chidorom as they happily interacted and communicated with each other remains within the grasp of my vision, and the feeling of that manifestation of love continues to pleasantly touch me within, even as I write this piece. I have been taught or at least reminded of the power and transcendence of love beyond all things. I hope to cherish the memory of this experience for a long time.

MY TEACHER MY PAL
Perhaps I should mention that from time to time, during the shooting of the film project, these kids especially Bobo, who became my pal, came around every now and then, and in the peaceful, loving, and innocent way they went about living, they reminded me to take things easy and approach the challenging situation with the much innocence and love that I could muster. I am grateful for that.

THE LANGUAGE OF LOVE

And when we learn to loose the grip
Of our hold on the tenets of mankind
Set by standards of the temporal world,

And when we no longer give reign
To that manner of communication
Trusted to the limitations of the ear,

And when instead we learn to live
With the innocence of a playful child
Sharing with all in true honesty

And when we've woken to our being
Letting the trust of our confidence
Enjoy the true place of precedence,

Again we shall regain the gift of self
To live and speak from the depth of heart
With the eternal gift of the true self - Love

Guardian Angel

- Loren Moore

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I KNOW THAT THE LORD ASSIGNED A GUARDIAN ANGEL TO ME THE MOMENT I WAS BORN AND THE REASON I KNOW THIS IS I WOULD HAVE NEVER MADE IT TO BE SEVENTY YEARS OLD WITHOUT HIM.

AT THE AGE OF TWO I HAD PNEUMONIA. THIS WAS IN 1934 AND MANY CHILDREN DIED FROM PNEUMONIA BACK THEN. BUT MY GUARDIAN ANGEL BROUGHT ME THROUGH IT.

I WAS IN A BOAT WITH MY DAD ON CADDO LAKE WHEN THE BOAT TURNED OVER AND I HAD TO DOG PADDLE OVER TO A CYPRESS TREE. DAD WAS TRAPPED UNDER THE BOAT FOR JUST A MINUTE AND I WAS ON MY OWN. I DIDN'T KNOW HOW TO SWIM BUT MY ANGEL WAS THERE TO SEE THAT I MADE IT TO THAT TREE. THAT WAS WHEN I WAS THREE YEARS OLD.

AS I GREW OLDER I WAS AROUND GUNS AND HAD GUNS OF MY OWN BUT I NEVER WAS INVOLVED IN AN ACCIDENT WITH A GUN. THE ONLY WAY I CAN EXPLAIN THIS IS MY ANGEL TAKING CARE OF ME.

I MET JOHNNIE, MY HIGH SCHOOL SWEETHEART, IN A MOST UNUSUAL WAY. I WAS WORKING AT A GROCERY STORE AFTER SCHOOL AND ON SATURDAYS. I HAD AN OLD CAR AND THIS KID THAT WORKED THERE ON SATURDAYS HAD A GIRL FRIEND THAT LIVED AT EAST MOUNTAIN. HE KEPT TELLING ME HE WOULD GET ME A DATE WITH HIS AUNT IF I WOULD DRIVE AND WE COULD DOUBLE DATE.

WELL I FINALLY SAID YES AND HE WAS SUPPOSED TO SET EVERYTHING UP FOR OUR DOUBLE DATE. WHEN THE NIGHT ROLLED AROUND HE AND I DROVE TO HIS GIRL FRIENDS HOME. I SAT IN THE CAR WHILE HE WENT IN AFTER HER. A LITTLE WHILE LATER HE CAME OUT BY HIMSELF AND SAID HER DADDY WOULDN'T LET HER GO. BUT THAT'S A WHOLE NOTHER STORY FOR A DIFFERENT TIME

SO OFF WE DROVE TO GET HIS AUNT, MY DATE. WE GOT TO THE HOUSE AND HIS AUNT HAD FORGOTTEN ALL ABOUT OUR DATE. SHE HAD BEEN WORKING IN THE GARDEN WHEN WE DROVE UP AND WE HAD TO WAIT FOR HER TO TAKE A BATH AND GET READY BEFORE WE COULD GO. I FOUND OUT SHE WAS SIX MONTHS YOUNGER THAN ME. HOW CAN YOU BE AN AUNT TO A 15 YEAR OLD KID WHEN YOU'RE ONLY 17 YOURSELF?

ANYWAY MY ANGEL WAS AT WORK AGAIN. AFTER SEVEN MONTHS WE WERE MARRIED. THEN NINE MONTHS LATER WE HAD A LITTLE GIRL. BEING MARRIED AND WITH A CHILD KEPT ME FROM BEING DRAFTED AND GOING TO KOREA. SEVERAL OF THE BOYS I GRADUATED WITH WERE DRAFTED AND HAD TO GO. SOME OF THEM NEVER CAME BACK.

SO NOW AS A FAMILY MAN I HAD TO MAKE A LIVING FOR MY WIFE AND CHILD. BY CHANCE I WENT TO THE NEW GENERAL MOTORS PLANT IN ARLINGTON AND PUT IN AN APPLICATION. THEY HIRED ME. ON LOOKING BACK AT THIS I DON'T THINK IT WAS CHANCE THAT I WENT TO THE PLANT TO APPLY FOR A JOB AT ALL. I THINK IT WAS MY GUARDIAN ANGEL AT WORK AGAIN.

I SPENT TWENTY YEARS WORKING AT THE PLANT. I STARTED AS AN ASSEMBLER IN THE BODY SHOP. THEN TRANSFERRED TO WELDER AND SOON MADE LEAD MAN. AFTER THAT I TRANSFERRED INTO THE SECURITY DEPARTMENT. GENERAL MOTORS HAD A POLICY THAT THEY NEVER TOOK AN HOURLY MAN INTO SECURITY. I WAS THE FIRST MAN IN THE WHOLE COOPERATION TO EVER DO THAT. WHILE THERE I MADE THE RANK OF SERGEANT.

FROM THERE I WENT TO THE INSPECTION DEPARTMENT AND WAS ASSIGNED TO ROAD TEST THE NEW CARS. BOY WAS THAT A PLUM OF A JOB. THEN I WAS DRAFTED INTO THE PAINT SHOP AS A SUPERVISOR. IN TIME I WAS PROMOTED TO GENERAL SUPERVISOR OF THE PAINT SHOP. I HAD TWELVE SUPERVISORS AND 22O HOURLY MEN WORKING FOR ME, AND ME JUST AN OL' COUNTRY BOY FROM EAST TEXAS WITH NO EDUCATION. CAN YOU SEE THE HAND OF MY GUARDIAN ANGEL IN THIS? I SURE CAN.

IN 1974 I WAS DIAGNOSED AS A VICTIM OF MULTIPLE SCLEROSIS AND AFTER A YEARS SICK LEAVE THE PLANT MEDICALLY RETIRED ME. I HAD MY FULL RETIREMENT BENEFITS AND SOCIAL SECURITY. SO I WAS OK AS FAR AS MONEY GOES.

I SOON DISCOVERED THAT IF I BROKE MY DAY INTO TWO HALVES I COULD STILL DO A LOT OF THINGS. I SOON DEVELOPED A PATTERN OF BEING ACTIVE IN THE MORNING. THEN TAKING A SIESTA AFTER LUNCH FOR TWO OR THREE HOURS I COULD BE ACTIVE AGAIN FOR SEVERAL HOURS. OTHER THAN THIS MY ONLY LIMITATIONS WERE A WEAKNESS OF MY LEGS.

NO LONGER BEING TIED TO A TIME CLOCK I WAS ABLE TO DO SO MANY THINGS I WOULD NOT HAVE BEEN ABLE TO IF I STILL HAD TO GO TO WORK.

THINGS LIKE GOING TO THE HUNTING LEASE IN LLANO COUNTY IN CENTRAL TEXAS FOR A WEEK OR TWO FOUR OR FIVE TIMES A YEAR. I HUNTED ON THAT LEASE WITH SEVEN OTHER FRIENDS FOR 27 YEARS. WE HAD A YEAR ROUND LEASE AND WE COULD GO ANYTIME DURING THE YEAR WE WANTED TO. THERE WERE SEVERAL TANKS ON THE LEASE THAT HAD GOOD FISHING IN THEM. WE ALSO HAD A CABIN THAT WE STAYED IN THAT WAS AIR CONDITIONED.

DURING THIS TIME IS WHEN JOHNNIE AND I WOULD STAY AT CADDO LAKE FOR ANYWHERE FROM A WEEK TO A MONTH AT A TIME. WE ALWAYS STAYED AT MRS. TUCKER'S CAMP AND BECAME VERY GOOD FRIENDS WITH HER. SHE WOULD LET US HELP HER AROUND THE CAMP FOR OUR RENT.

ONE TIME MRS. TUCKER CALLED US AND ASKED IF WE WOULD COME DOWN AND TAKE CARE OF HER CAMP WHILE SHE WENT TO MAYO CLINIC IN MINNESOTA TO HAVE SURGERY FOR CANCER. OF COURSE WE SAID YES. WE WERE THERE THREE MONTHS THAT TIME.

OVER THE YEARS I HAD MANY EXPERIENCES ON CADDO LAKE. SOME GOOD AND SOME NOT SO GOOD BUT I ALWAYS MANAGED TO BE SAFE AND I DID HELP A LOT OF PEOPLE ALONG THE WAY. I CAUGHT A TON OF FISH OVER THE YEARS AND GAVE LOTS OF THEM AWAY. I ATE MY SHARE OF THEM ALSO. BUT I NEVER SOLD A ONE.

NOW I SIT HERE IN MY HOUSE IN ARLINGTON AND PLAY WITH MY COMPUTER. I KNOW THAT MY GUARDIAN ANGEL HAS TO BE HAPPIER BECAUSE HIS JOB IS SO MUCH EASIER THEN IT USE TO BE.

I KNOW THAT WHEN IT COMES MY TIME TO PASS ON AND MY GUARDIAN ANGEL RETURNS TO THE LORD HE WILL BE TOLD "WELL DONE, THOU TRUE AND FAITHFUL SERVANT."

I ONLY HOPE I CAN HEAR THE SAME WORDS.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR: © COPYRIGHT 2003 LOREN MOORE caddo@digitex.net I encourage you to share my stories with your friends but, when copying I ask that you keep my name and contact information attached along with this notice. Use of this story for commercial purposes is prohibited without direct permission from the author

A Smile Can Go A Long Way

By Vivian Amis

About ten years ago I was stuck in an abusive relationship. The relationship lasted 10 years and during that time all me thoughts were negative and circled around how I was going to get out of that relationship alive and WITH my children. I was unable to step out of fighting the appearance. The negativity had pulled me so far away from the truth that I was blind toward anything good.

Then one day I went to the bank. I was standing in line and as usual I was totally caught up in my thoughts about survival. I suddenly had the feeling that someone was watching me. I looked up and saw a man with his son standing in line in front of me. The man and the child were looking at me, then looking at each other and looking at me again. Both of them had a light around them that I had never seen before, they did not say a word, but smiled. I don't recall but I probably did not smile back, I was too stunned. I forgot every thing around me: my life, the bank and all happenings. As soon as I was done with my transaction at the bank I ran out side to see where they were heading. But they were gone. But the smile was deep imbedded into my soul. I found the strength to leave the relationship and start a new life. For me those two " visitors" were angels. Reminding me that God IS all the time, everywhere.

When I think back at this beautiful experience that helped me to change my life I feel blessed for all it took was a smile and I have plenty of them now to give away.

An old saying goes: If you don't have something positive to say...don't say any thing at all. I would like to rephrase that saying to: If you don't have something positive to say at least smile. The truth is not what is said in words, but the words unsaid in a smile.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Vivian Amis is a Tampa based Spiritual Healer and Teacher of Spiritual Consciousness. She is the author of "The Essentials of Life" and offers Classes, consultations and a product line: "Inspired by Spirit". Call (813)784-0371 or visit www.allinallhealing.com

Puisi: Udara

Udara itu kuhirup

Dan kuhembuskan lagi

Udara segar masuk ke tubuhku

Membuat badanku segar dan sehat

Aku bisa bernapas dengan lega

Namun sekarang tidak kudapatkan udara itu

Yang kudapatkan hanya udara dari kendaraan

Kendaraan yang setiap kali menyebarkan polusi

Aku kecewa atas udara ini

Membuatku sesak nafas dan sakit

Inilah ulah manusia

Yang tidak tau akan manfaat udara yang segar

Untuk kesehatan tubuh dan pikiran

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY !!!!!

there are many stories about your 'mom'


STORY 1
A baby asked God, "They tell me you are sending me to earth tomorrow, but how am I going to live there being so small and helpless?"

"Your angel will be waiting for you and will take care of you."

The child further inquired, "But tell me, here in heaven I don't have to do anything but sing and smile to be happy."

God said, "Your angel will sing for you and will also smile for you. And you will feel your angel's love and be very happy."

Again the child asked, "And how am I going to be able to understand when people talk to me if I don't know the language?"

God said, "Your angel will tell you the most beautiful and sweet words you will ever hear, and with much patience and care, your angel will teach you how to speak."

"And what am I going to do when I want to talk to you?"

God said, "Your angel will place your hands together and will teach you how to pray."

"Who will protect me?"

God said, "Your angel will defend you even if it means risking it's life."

"But I will always be sad because I will not see you anymore."

God said, "Your angel will always talk to you about Me and will teach you the way to come back to Me, even though I will always be next to you."

At that moment there was much peace in Heaven, but voices from Earth could be heard and the child hurriedly asked, "God, if I am to leave now, please tell me my angel's name."

"You will simply call her, 'Mom.'"

STORY 2
Before I was a Mom -
I slept as late as I wanted and never worried about how late I got into bed. I brushed my hair and my teeth everyday.

Before I was a Mom -
I cleaned my house each day. I never tripped over toys or forgot words to a lullaby. I didn't worry whether or not my plants were poisonous. I never thought about immunizations.

Before I was a Mom -
I had never been puked on - Pooped on - Spit on - Chewed on, or Peed on. I had complete control of my mind and My thoughts. I slept all night.

Before I was a Mom -
I never held down a screaming child so that doctors could do tests...or give shots. I never looked into teary eyes and cried. I never got gloriously happy over a simple grin. I never sat up late hours at night watching a baby sleep.

Before I was a Mom -
I never held a sleeping baby just because I didn't want to put it down. I never felt my heart break into a million pieces when I couldn't stop the hurt. I never knew that something so small could affect my life
so much. I never knew that I could love someone so much. I never knew I would love being a Mom.

Before I was a Mom -
I didn't know the feeling of having my heart outside my body. I didn't know how special it could feel to feed a hungry baby. I didn't know that bond between a mother and her child. I didn't know that something so small could make me feel so important.

Before I was a Mom -
I had never gotten up in the middle of the night every 10 minutes to make sure all was okay. I had never known The warmth, The joy, The love, The heartache, The wonderment or the satisfaction of being a Mom. I didn't know I was capable of feeling so much before I was a Mom.

Send this to someone whom you think is a special Mom...

And remember that behind every successful woman......
is a basket of dirty laundry.

STORY 3
M-O-T-H-E-R
"M" is for the million things she gave me,
"O" means only that she's growing old,
"T" is for the tears she shed to save me,
"H" is for her heart of purest gold;
"E" is for her eyes, with love-light shining,
"R" means right, and right she'll always be,
Put them all together, they spell "MOTHER,"
A word that means the world to me.

SAY IT NOW : "I LOVE YOU MOM!!!"

A short story -From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

A short story is a form of short fictional narrative prose. Short stories tend to be more concise and to the point than longer works of fiction, such as novellas (in the modern sense of this term) and novels.
Short stories have their origins in oral story-telling traditions and the prose anecdote, a swiftly-sketched situation that comes rapidly to its point. With the rise of the comparatively realistic novel, the short story evolved as a miniature, with some of its first perfectly independent examples in the tales of E.T.A. Hoffmann and Anton Chekhov.
Many authors today release compilations of their short stories in short story collections।

History

Origins
Short stories date back to the story-telling traditions which produced such notable tales as Homer's the Iliad and the Odyssey. Tales such as these were told in a rhyming, poetic format, with the rhymes acting as a mnemonic tool for people to remember the story. Short sections of these tales focused on individual narratives that could be told at one sitting. The overall arch of the story would only emerge through the telling of multiple sections of the tale.
Fables, which tend to be folk tales with an explicitly expressed moral, were said by the Greek historian Herodotus to have been invented by a Greek slave named Aesop in the 6th century BCE (although other times and nationalities are also given for Aesop). These ancient fables are known today as Aesop's Fables.
The other ancient form of short story, anecdotes, were popular during the years of the Roman Empire. Anecdotes functioned as a sort of parable, a brief realistic narration that embodies a point. Many of the surviving Roman anecdotes were later collected in the Gesta Romanorum in the 13th or 14th century. Anecdotes remained popular in Europe well into the 18th century, when the fictional anecdotal letters of Sir Roger de Coverley were published.
In Europe, the oral story-telling tradition began to develop into written stories in the early 14th century, most notably with Geoffrey Chaucer's Canterbury Tales and Giovanni Boccaccio's Decameron. Both of these books are composed of individual short stories (which range from farce or humorous anecdotes to well-crafted literary fictions) set within a larger narrative story (a frame story), although the frame tale device was not adopted by all writers. At the end of the 16th century, some of the most popular short stories in Europe were the darkly tragic "novella" of Matteo Bandello (especially in their French translation). During the Renaissance, the term novella was used when referring to short stories.
The mid 17th century in France saw the development of a refined short novel, the "nouvelle", by such authors as Madame de Lafayette. In the 1690s, traditional fairy tales began to be published (one of the most famous collections was by Charles Perrault). The appearance of Antoine Galland's first modern translation of the Thousand and One Nights (or Arabian Nights) (from 1704; another translation appeared in 1710–12) would have an enormous influence on the 18th century European short stories of Voltaire, Diderot and others.

Modern short stories
Modern short stories emerged as their own genre in the early 19th century. Early examples of short story collections include the Brothers Grimm Fairy Tales (1824–1826), Nikolai Gogol's Evenings on a Farm Near Dikanka (1831-1832), Edgar Allan Poe's Tales of the Grotesque and Arabesque (1839) and Nathaniel Hawthorne's Twice Told Tales (1842). In the later part of the 19th century, the growth of print magazines and journals created a strong market demand for short fiction between 3,000 and 15,000 words in length. Among the famous short stories to come out of this time period was "Ward No. 6" by Anton Chekhov.
In the first half of the 20th century, a number of high-profile magazines, such as The Atlantic Monthly, Scribner's, and The Saturday Evening Post, all published short stories in each issue. The demand for quality short stories was so great, and the money paid for them so high, that F. Scott Fitzgerald repeatedly turned to short story writing to pay off his numerous debts.
The demand for short stories by print magazines hit its peak in the middle of the 20th century, when in 1952 Life magazine published Ernest Hemingway's long short story (or novella) The Old Man and the Sea. The issue containing this story sold 5,300,000 copies in only two days.
Since then, the number of commercial magazines that publish short stories has declined, even though several well-known magazines like The New Yorker continue to feature them. Literary magazines also provide a showcase for short stories. In addition, short stories have recently found a new life online, where they can be found in online magazines, in collections organized by author or theme, and on blogs.

Elements and characteristics
Short stories tend to be less complex than novels. Usually, a short story will focus on only one incident, has a single plot, a single setting, a limited number of characters, and covers a short period of time.
In longer forms of fiction, stories tend to contain certain core elements of dramatic structure: exposition (the introduction of setting, situation and main characters); complication (the event of the story that introduces the conflict); rising action, crisis (the decisive moment for the protagonist and their commitment to a course of action); climax (the point of highest interest in terms of the conflict and the point of the story with the most action); resolution (the point of the story when the conflict is resolved); and moral.
Because of their short length, short stories may or may not follow this pattern. For example, modern short stories only occasionally have an exposition. More typical, though, is an abrupt beginning, with the story starting in the middle of the action. As with longer stories, plots of short stories also have a climax, crisis, or turning-point. However, the endings of many short stories are abrupt and open and may or may not have a moral or practical lesson.
Of course, as with any art form, the exact characteristics of a short story will vary by author.

Length
Determining what exactly separates a short story from longer fictional formats is problematic. A classic definition of a short story is that one should be able to be read it in one sitting, a point most notably made in Edgar Allan Poe's essay "The Philosophy of Composition" (1846). Other definitions place the maximum word length at 7,500 words. In contemporary usage, the term short story most often refers to a work of fiction no longer than 20,000 words and no shorter than 1,000.
Short stories tend to be less complex than novels. Usually, a short story will focus on only one incident, has a single plot, limited settings, a limited number of characters, and covers a short period of time. In longer forms of fiction, stories tend to contain certain core elements of dramatic structure: exposition (the introduction of setting, situation and main characters); complication (the event of the story that introduces the conflict); rising action, crisis (the decisive moment for the protagonist and their commitment to a course of action); climax (the point of highest interest in terms of the conflict and the point of the story with the most action); resolution (the point of the story when the conflict is resolved); and moral.
Because of their short length, short stories may or may not follow this pattern. For example, modern short stories only occasionally have an exposition. More typical, though, is an abrupt beginning, with the story starting in the middle of the action. As with longer stories, plots of short stories also have a climax, crisis, or turning-point. However, the endings of many short stories are abrupt and open and may or may not have a moral or practical lesson. Of course, as with any art form, the exact characteristics of a short story will vary by author.