Showing results by author "Vinny Green" in All Categories

Nikki began to shed a tear as her finely manicured, slender fingers stroked the oversized wooden casket sprinkled with knotholes, splinters, and other imperfections that housed the small body of Kamari Prescott. A young boy who seemed to love life despite its harsh realities. Kamari had been befriended by abuse far too often in his battered young life and visited by death much too early than what Nikki believed the good Lord intended. As she stood wondering if there was more she could have done or should have done, she began to ponder the injustice of it all.

The existence of the tiny kingdom of Little-Bod, in a land also known as The Roof of the World, has been challenged by the evil and demonic COVID-19 Dragon clan. This clan has been terrorizing the good people of Little-Bod and raining down disease without the slightest care. In times past, the valiant Dhundup clan has always taken on any foe of Little-Bod with the intent of protecting the kingdom and rising to meet any challenge on behalf of the king and queen.

This book is written by experienced staff at the G-Square International Training Academy in an effort to address the growing presence of active shooters in houses of worship. The content is intended to offer options and thoughtful guidance to the well over 50,000 houses of worship of all denominations, beliefs, and sects that exist in the United States.

This is a lighthearted book intended to spark discussion among children about the beauty and value of the sun.

Akbar Brown lives comfortably in his four-bedroom home with his loyal dog, Benji. The two of them pay special attention to maintaining the home and making sure their friends always feel comfortable and welcome. Once Boris, an uninvited mouse makes his way into their home, Akbar is intent on having the intruder find someplace else to live. It’s not long before Boris is getting away from every trap that Akbar sets for him. In fact, as the days go forward, Akbar believes that Boris and Benji have become friends.

Lulu was born in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania. Even as a toddler, she knew what she would grow up to be. When asked what that would be, Lulu always leaped into the air and announced with a great big cheer: “I want to grow up to be a superhero, the first girl in the Republic of Tanzania to be a protector of the people. How cool is that going to be?” In English, the name Lulu means pearl. Because of that, Lulu’s family and friends always called her the Pearl of Dar, the queen superhero-to-be.

Nikki Armstrong continued to work hard at making a difference in her precinct, and anywhere else where she thought she could help. Much of her efforts were met with resistance from the powers that be, but she never saw any of it as a significant obstacle. Unlike the hordes of naysayers who saw law enforcement as a job, Nikki embraced it as not only her profession but also a calling. They were welcome to spend their careers punching the proverbial clock while in Nikki’s calling there was no punching out or standing down, and absolutely never, ever, any thought of backing down.

In this sharing from the heart, I attempt to explore love and, in some instances, hate in their many forms and sources. I have loved and been in love for more than half a century. I have endured broken hearts and might have even broken one or two, although as I look in the mirror, I seriously doubt it. I have foolishly thought I had it all figured out, only to come to the realization that when it comes to love and being in love, I have but scratched the surface, and my vision remains severely trammelled.

Now, each morning and afternoon, King Usman and Queen Jasminda surveyed the land. Pretty much at about noon, they mounted their winged stallions, direct descendants of the thought-to-be mythical Pegasus, and took to the sky side by side, looking for things in the kingdom to improve. Yep, that would be winged stallions, just like I said. The king and queen each had one with mighty wings that could take them to the edge of the sky if they so wished.

The sun set. The fall moon announced Halloween was about to arrive. As the natural satellite lifted in the sky, LD heard off in the distance someone yelling, “G-g-g-ghost! Ghost! Run, run!” The group of young roosters and hens took flight toward the safety of the hen house. They moved as if they ran fast enough, they just might be able to fly.

Young Squanto was a son of the Wassouk Native American Indian tribe and was proud to be so. His father, Yiska, was the chief storyteller of the clan. A very prestigious position to hold in almost any group. Yiska had a blessed gift poured down on him from above for telling stories and the like.

Gizmo and Trina sang simple swamp songs as they skipped through the murky swampland, which they daily called home. Many claimed that it was a stinky swamp, but these two had gotten used to the scent. It had gotten to the point where, to them, it simply smelled like home. I know what you are probably saying to yourself, “How does a swamp song sound?” We will get to that, my young friend; just wait and see. The two had become very skilled at taking charge at conquering the challenges of life that were so much a part of Dismal Swamp.

Upon graduation from high school, Nikki was awarded a full four-year scholarship to a prestigious university in New England. Her initial response was to decline the offer. She wasn’t crazy about the idea of being so far away from family and friends.

Summers in Bayview was an awesome time for myself and my good friend Stan. He and I had an unshakable habit of taking the short walk down to the Canarsie Pier every Tuesday and spending the day fishing and talking about anything that came to mind.

Nikki was three months away from completing another roller coaster ride of a year fighting crime and working hard to change lives for the better. She was tired, mostly because of having to deal with the bureaucratic bullshit that came with her commitment to the cause of making life better, whenever, and however, she could.

The Christmas season was well in gear. Grandma M was smiling from ear to ear. To Grandma, the Christmas season is a very special time of year. With Christmas just three days away, Grandma was in her usual place, in the kitchen, baking pies with her grandchildren, Matthew, and Michaelle. This band of bakers had been singing Christmas songs all day long. Songs about Jesus, his birth, and this special day coming their way.

Nikki was a few days away from graduating from the police academy. Through arduous work, her naval training, perseverance, and the skills poured into her by Papa and Mama Armstrong, Nikki was number two in her class academically.

Mark Twain once wrote: “Sing like no one's listening, love like you've never been hurt, dance like nobody's watching, and live like its heaven on Earth.” This is what each of us should strive for in this God-ordained life. It does not require anything extra or cost all that you have. It does not bring about the daily emergence of new levels of pain or the forming of lies just to get by.

The phone rang; young Morgan recognized the phone number as belonging to Dinsdale, the school bully with whom she had several run-ins since returning to school after the pandemic caused extensive shutdowns in her neighborhood. These encounters had all been verbal, as Morgan was not one to get into physical disputes with anyone. She had gotten so weary of Dinsdale’s bully ways. She had no idea why he was calling. She only thought that it could not be anything good. She decided that when she picked it up, she was going to finally give him a piece of her mind and send him on his way.

Kashim Shettima, the state Governor of Borno, emerged from a meeting and made the following statement to journalists at the presidential villa after a meeting with President Jonathan: “Boko Haram are better armed and are better motivated than our own troops. Given the present state of affairs, it is absolutely impossible for us to defeat Boko Haram."