C C Farley
Bio
I loved reading at an early age. Writing is also a passion and I love writing, reading, and spending time with my pets.
I also love photography, independent film making, travel and writing.
Stories (58/0)
In the Face of Adversity: My Mother's Dragon-like Resolve
My mom was born during a time in the 1920's that was rough for Chinese people in Vancouver. There was significant racism and discrimination, and often Chinese immigrants were relegated to jobs that were manual or focused on the service industry. This was my mom's situation at the time.
By C C Farley2 months ago in Confessions
The Faces Of Love That Both Excited And Shocked Me
If you've experienced the ebb and flow of love, count yourself fortunate. Love, a profound emotion seldom taught in schools, is best understood through lived experiences. Through the years, here are some fundamental lessons that love has taught me about life and happiness.
By C C Farley2 months ago in Confessions
A Detective Story
Painful Memories Dick Kingsley nodded politely to Diana Mah, a sprightly 65-year-old, who hunkered nearby, effortlessly pulling up weeds in the neatly manicured front garden. He felt at ease in her presence, and considered her like an old, weathered gray blanket, providing him with a sense of warmth, despite the occasional uncomfortable feeling.
By C C Farley4 months ago in Criminal
- Top Story - December 2023
My Barbie And ITop Story - December 2023
When I was a child, Barbie fascinated me. I tenderly held the blonde-haired doll and admired her sleek, toned body. My tiny hands eased her into colorful pink day dresses, and even the occasional satiny evening gown. I combed her long, shining tresses, while I envied her wide, blue eyes enhanced by thick, painted eyelashes.
By C C Farley5 months ago in Confessions
Along Came Jane
The following is a work of fiction. Hope you enjoy this. Please comment, or engage. I read all my comments. “Hurry up, dear. The ship is going to leave without you. Get your big butt going.” The mature, blond-haired woman's words were partly cut off by a murder of noisy crows squawking in an unrelenting symphony, perhaps to get away from an always ravenous vulture. Her name on the passport was Mabel Steinberg, but she preferred to be called Mrs. Steinberg, even though her husband had died 5 years earlier. She was the kind of woman who still looked good in her late sixties, in a sophisticated Sophia Loren kind of way. She dressed herself in the latest couture and today was no different. Mabel rolled her silver suitcase down the ramp and expertly onto the cabin deck, flicking her chiffon pink scarf over her neck, perfectly complementing her designer cotton white jacket and matching capri pants.
By C C Farley5 months ago in Confessions
