These will be just snatches of story idea that pop into my head.
I may make something of them or just leave them to rot.

Forgiven, But not Forgotten.

The old man wheezes through his oxygen mask. "I know I have done wrong. I don't deserve any forgiveness. But grant me one last wish. Please let me hear you forgive me?" Standing next to his bed is a grown man in his late forties. With a cold look in hisn eyes he answers. "I forgive you." He turns around and walks out the room and into the hall. With a quick nod to the nurse on duty he leaves.
Hearing his sons forgivness brign a tear to his eye. Something sparkles beside his bed. Looking over he sees his son left behind his cigarettes and lighter. He is about to press the button to call the nurse when the craving for the one thing that has him in this bed grips him.
Taking the box and opening it he sees one last cigarette. "Might as well I the clock is almost done ticking."
*Clipping from a newspaper*
Explosion in Hospital
Saint Mikes was thrown into chaos last night when an explosion killed one man. It all started when he got hold of a lighter and cigarettes. The man doomed to die from lung cancer was on oxygen. The spark from the lighter ignighted the oxygen heavy room. The nurse on duty saw him from the hall and called for him to top but it was too late. This misfortunate accident is all to common.









Deaths Last Words.

When they read his last words it was short and to the point. "Living life this long never crossed my mind. Getting this far was never my paln but I made it. I had fun I made many mistakes but I still had fun." After it was read the executor held in his hands a packet of letters. A tear runs down his eye as he reads the names of each person on each envelope. Most of them sadly did not outlive this old man.
His sobs choke his throat when he reads his own name. He was a dear friend of the man. Like a brother. His is the thinest one of all. He opens it and slowly takes out the folded paper.
"Well old friend if you reading this then you have outlived me. I am pretty sure this will be the case. You have been a true friend. Keep Flying."
His vision blurs as the tears over flow. He sits down in a chair. when he has regained his control he looks at all the other letters a few people are still alive. One family member. A mutual friend. Some names he doesn't even know. His heart stops when he sees one name. His one life regret as he put it.
Her name was written in type not by hand like the others.
He knows she had passed on. He never kept up on her but by word of mouth he heard she died in a car crash a couple years back. He takes a deep breath and opens the letter.
"Confessions"
Was at the top of the page in bold type. He quickly folds up the letter and throws it into the fire. What ever his close friend felt like confessing to her. What ever sin he comitted toward her. It was something he would only share with her in death. No one else could know this.
He takes the letters of the dead and tosses them into the fire. He sees her letter to one side. The envelope peels back into ash in the heat. He sees one part of the letter before it is gone. "... forgiven not now not ever..." Then it was gone.

Faces

Look at a face what do you see? A mouth, nose and eyes. Maybe a few defects. But they are not defects they are unique features. A mole, a spotting of freckles, a small dimple or a scar with a story behind it.
Faces tell alot about the person. Over time a face will get used to most used expression. So A person who is always scowling will have the scowl carved into his face. This is useful to me. I read people by their face. Help me see how they are.