Received: from nobody by stodi.digitalkingdom.org with local (Exim 4.87) (envelope-from ) id 1cDwSW-0007jK-E9 for lojban-newreal@lojban.org; Mon, 05 Dec 2016 08:49:44 -0800 Received: from [104.255.66.108] (port=54923 helo=newssweed.com) by stodi.digitalkingdom.org with esmtp (Exim 4.87) (envelope-from ) id 1cDwSS-0007iO-2j for lojban@lojban.org; Mon, 05 Dec 2016 08:49:44 -0800 Date: Mon, 05 Dec 2016 10:12:54 -0700 To: Message-ID: Mime-Version: 1 Subject: By mid-week, pot-stocks will explode in-value- eport 10454066 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Content-Type: text/html; charset=us-ascii From: "Bob Green" X-Spam-Score: -0.4 (/) X-Spam_score: -0.4 X-Spam_score_int: -3 X-Spam_bar: / good job US News

Breaking Report

As of this morning, pot stocks-have already doubled in value and by mid week it should triple.

With legalization-being accepted in more and more states, now is the time while its still-pennies.

Read More > >

"I am already making a ton since last weeek. Im so lucky I got in early on the action."

Get Started-Now













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Abruptly he stiffened, as a horrible thought leaped into his being. Hisgaze left the car and wandered up the street. Past the intersection, past the one beyond that, on up the thoroughfare until the gray haze ofthe city dimmed everything. And as far as Dave Miller could see, therewas no trace of motion. Cars were poised in the street, some passing other machines, someturning corners. A street car stood at a safety zone; a man who hadleaped from the bottom step hung in space a foot above the pavement. Pedestrians paused with one foot up. A bird hovered above a telephonepole, its gs glued to the blue vault of the sky. With a choked sound, Miller began to run. He did not slacken his pacefor fifteen minutes, until around him were the familiar, reassuringtrees and shrubbordered houses of his own street. But yet how strangeto him The season was autumn, and the air filled with brown and golden leavesthat tossed on a frozen d. Miller ran by two s lying on a lawn, petrified into a modern counterpart of the sculptors The Wrestlers. The sweetish tang of burning leaves brought a thrill of terror to him;for, looking down an alley from whence the smoke drifted, he saw a mantending a fire whose leaping flames were red tongues that did not move.

Sobbing with relief, the young druggist darted up his own walk. He triedthe front door, found it locked, and jammed a thumb against thedoorbell. But of course the little metal button was as immovable as amountain. So in the end, after convincing himself that the key could notbe inserted into the lock, he sprang toward the back. The screen door was not latched, but it might as well have been thesteel door of a bank vault. Miller began to pound on it, shouting: Helen Helen, are you in there? My God, dear, theres something wrongYouve got to The silence that flowed in again when his voice choked off was the deadstillness of the tomb. He could hear his voice rustling through theempty rooms, and at last it came back to him like a taunt: HelenHelen CHAPTER II Time Stands Still For Dave Miller, the world was now a planet of death on which he alonelived and moved and spoke. Staggered, utterly beaten, he made no attemptto break into his home. But he did stumble around to the kitchen dowand try to peer in, anxious to see if there was a body on the floor. Theroom was in semidarkness, however, and his straining eyes made outnothing.

He returned to the front of the house, shambling like a somnambulist. Seated on the porch steps, head in hands, he slipped into a hell ofregrets. He knew now that his suicide had been no hallucination. He wasdead, all right; and this must be hell or purgatory. Bitterly he cursed his drinking, that had led him to such a mad thing assuicide. Suicide HeDave Millera coward who had taken his own lifeMillers whole being crawled with revulsion. If he just had the lastyear to live over again, he thought fervently. And yet, through it all, some inner strain kept trying to tell him hewas not dead. This was his own world, all right, and essentiallyunchanged. What had happened to it was beyond the pale of mereguesswork. But this one thing began to be clear: This was a world inwhich change or motion of any kind was a foreigner. Fire would not burn and smoke did not rise. Doors would not open, liquids were solid. Millers stubbing toe could not move a pebble, and ablade of grass easily supported his weight without bending. In otherwords, Miller began to understand, change had been stopped as surely asif a master hand had put a finger on the worlds balance wheel.