The Gulf's Mystery

Betsy Toog sat at her desk in the Coast Guard station of Destin, Florida, reading a magazine. It was a quiet night, and her duties were few: if the phone rang, she answered it.
    She was twiddling a finger in her ear when it rang. She wiped her hands quickly and picked it up. "Destin Coast Guard Station, this is Betsy speaking, how can I help you?"
    Nothing but the whisper of the wind came through the receiver.
    "Hello? Hello?" Betsy asked. "Is anyone there?" She took a glance at her computer's screen. It showed that the caller was somewhere in the gulf. "Can you hear me? Please respond." Betsy's supervisor noticed, and walked over. "There's nothing on the other end," Betsy said to him.

A Carnival to Remember

"It's on. They're doing it,"
    Hector's father watched him put his spoon down in his bowl of cereal and glare up at him. "How? How could they possibly do that? After... everything!"
    "It's the county's biggest money-making event all year. Of course they're going to do it," Hector's mother said from the stove. Muted sunlight intruded the small kitchen through the dirty window in front of her. "And it's been a small crop this year. Everyone needs to make up their losses."
    Hector shook his head once, angrily. His hair, the same color as the corn that flooded the county, flopped over. He pushed away from the table with a crash and stomped to his room. His parents heard the door slam.
    "Oh brother. He didn't even finish his breakfast," Mrs. Donnerson said. Mr. Donnerson sighed and sat at the table as his wife placed a plate of pancakes in front of him. He picked up the paper and scanned the front headline: 'County Board Votes Harvest Carnival Will Happen.'