A Viking Burial

"Who does this anymore?" Joshua asked. "A viking burial -- is it even legal?"

I looked out at the lake, its opposite shoreline no longer visible under the moonless night sky. The family lake house was well secluded, shrouded in forest nearly twenty miles thick.

"It's what he would have wanted," I answered, glancing down at the lifeless figure in the wooden canoe, hands gracefully folded, with a wreath of crumpled newspaper haloing his head.

With a heavy sigh, Joshua waded the canoe out to water as I lit several matches. He smirked.

"Feels like cheating, without the bow and arrow."

From Guest Contributor Amanda S.

The Ironies Of Doing Drugs

I'd never smoked marijuana before and I never imagined it would be so difficult.

First everyone kept telling me how dangerous it was. It would sap all my will power. I'd become a stoner.

Then, there was no place for me to buy any. It was legal in some states but in Philadelphia, no one knew where I could score some.

Finally, I found a dealer, but he wouldn't sell any to me. "You look like a good kid. Why don't you go home?"

I've done heroin plenty of times and this guy won't sell me a bag of weed!