Inflame Story

SHORT STORY : LANGUAGE OF LOVE  A wise old man saw his grandson having a heated discussion with his wife. He asked his grandson, “Why do you raise your voice when you are arguing with your wife?” Grandson: I lose patience when she doesn’t understand my point of view and that is why I raise my voice. Grandfather: But, your wife is close enough for her to hear you even when you say the same sentence in a calm manner. Why do you have to raise your voice? Grandson: I raise my voice so that my voice is heard and I can also let out the steam by raising my voice. Grandfather:That is not the exact reason for you to raise your voice. The real reason is that when you are angry with your wife, your heart moves away from her heart. So even though you are physically close to each other, you feel that you are far away from one another and hence raise your voice. Grandson: If that is the reason for raising the voice, what do we do when we are in love? Grandfather: When two people are in love, the...

Short Story : Happiness Is Based on Your Perspective I read about these two men who’d been bricklayers for more than thirty years. They were working on a huge skyscraper downtown. One man was always negative, discouraged, constantly complaining, and dreaded going to work. The other man was just the opposite. He was excited to show up each day and had an attitude of faith and enthusiasm about life. One day a friend came by the jobsite and asked them separately what they were doing. The first said, “Aw, we’re just laying brick. We’ve been doing this for thirty years. It’s so boring. One brick on top of the other.” Then the friend asked the second bricklayer. He just lit up. “Why, we’re building a magnificent skyscraper,” he said. “This structure will stand tall for generations to come. I’m just so excited that I could be a part of it.” Each bricklayer’s happiness or lack of it was based on his perspective. You can be laying brick or you can be building a beautiful skyscraper. The choice ...

SHORT STORY : THE RUBICON Short stories  I was a cold, vaporous dawn, the glass rising, and the wind fallen to a light air still from the north-east. Our creased and sodden sails scarcely answered to it as we crept across the oily swell to Langeoog. 'Fogs and calms,' Davies prophesied. The Blitz was astir when we passed her, and soon after steamed out to sea. Once over the bar, she turned westward and was lost to view in the haze. I should be sorry to have to explain how we found that tiny anchor-buoy, on the expressionless waste of grey. I only know that I hove the lead incessantly while Davies conned, till at last he was grabbing overside with the boat-hook, and there was the buoy on deck. The cable was soon following it, and finally the rusty monster himself, more loathsome than usual, after his long sojourn in the slime. 'That's all right,' said Davies. 'Now we can go anywhere.' 'Well, it's Norderney, isn't it? We've settled that.' ...

Short story : The Fox and the Cat by Ukrainian folktale Short stories  In a certain forest there once lived a fox, and near to the fox lived a man who had a cat that had been a good mouser in its youth, but was now old and half blind. The man didn’t want puss any longer, but not liking to kill it, took it out into the forest and lost it there. Then the fox came up and said, “Why, Mr Shaggy Matthew! How d’ye do! What brings you here?”––“Alas!” said Pussy, “my master loved me as long as I could bite, but now that I can bite no longer and have left off catching mice––and I used to catch them finely once––he doesn’t like to kill me, but he has left me in the wood where I must perish miserably.”––“No, dear Pussy!” said the fox; “you leave it to me, and I’ll help you to get your daily bread.”––“You are very good, dear little sister foxey!” said the cat, and the fox built him a little shed with a garden round it to walk about in.  Now one day the hare came to steal the man’s cabbage....

The Straw Ox by Ukrainian folktale Ukrainian folktale  There was once upon a time an old man and an old woman. The old man worked in the fields as a pitch-burner, while the old woman sat at home and spun flax. They were so poor that they could save nothing at all; all their earnings went in bare food, and when that was gone there was nothing left. At last the old woman had a good idea. “Look now, husband,” cried she, “make me a straw ox, and smear it all over with tar.”––“Why, you foolish woman!” said he, “what’s the good of an ox of that sort?”––“Never mind,” said she, “you just make it. I know what I am about.”––What was the poor man to do? He set to work and made the ox of straw, and smeared it all over with tar.  The night passed away, and at early dawn the old woman took her distaff, and drove the straw ox out into the steppe to graze, and she herself sat down behind a hillock, and began spinning her flax, and cried, “Graze away, little ox, while I spin my flax! Graze awa...

Fairy tale : Androclus and the Lion Fairy tales In Rome there was once a poor slave whose name was Androclus. His master was a cruel man, and so unkind to him that at last Androclus ran away. He hid himself in a wild wood for many days; but there was no food to be found, and he grew so weak and sick that he thought he should die. So one day he crept into a cave and lay down, and soon he was fast asleep. After a while a great noise woke him up. A lion had come into the cave, and was roaring loudly. Androclus was very much afraid, for he felt sure that the beast would kill him. Soon, however, he saw that the lion was not angry, but that he limped as though his foot hurt him. Then Androclus grew so bold that he took hold of the lion's lame paw to see what was the matter. The lion stood quite still, and rubbed his head against the man's shoulder. He seemed to say,-- "I know that you will help me." Androclus lifted the paw from the ground, and saw that it was a long, sharp...