Sheila L. Chingwa
Bio
Welcome to my world.
Welcome to my thoughts.
I am proud to be a Native American Elder born and raised in Northern Michigan. Thanks to my hard work I have a B.A. in Education and a Masters in Administration and Supervision in Education.
Stories (77/0)
Chapter 12: The Council.
Marcus and Lyra met Jamison and Jacob in the hallway of the council chamber. They arrived early so they settled down in the hallway to discuss the night’s events. Their story must be shared accurately so there would be possible assistance with the care of the kids. However, they did not call the council, the agency did so they all sat there with concern.
By Sheila L. Chingwa5 months ago in Fiction
Chapter 11: Wizard’s Winter
The next morning the three ladies prepared a wonderful breakfast and the children ate with vigor. Eggs, bacon, potatoes and toast fortified the youth. Lyra, Mary and Verna watched the children eat so fervently that they feared there wouldn’t be enough food for Markus’ breakfast.
By Sheila L. Chingwa5 months ago in Fiction
Chapter 10: Chavo’s Story
Slurps of tea were heard as a plate of cookies floated from person to person. Markus set a few more logs on the fire causing the fire to spirt crackling noise. The moment was calming as the sage kept burning in the center of the table to assist in calming the assembled group.
By Sheila L. Chingwa5 months ago in Fiction
Chapter 9:
The silence of the the forest encased the cabin in peace. Dragonfly and Peter sat next to the fire to warm themselves. In the distance, the wolves were howling in the moonlit night. Their singing was eerily comforting to Peter. The animal songs of the night was in full force and echoed through the trees. Yet, the wind rested and the snow drifted around the cabin.
By Sheila L. Chingwa5 months ago in Fiction
Chapter 8: An Old Friend
The wind whipped through the trees causing them to bend with each gust that was thrown at them. Snowflakes clung to to needles decorating them with a white frosting. The pine tree outside Peter’s room knocked rhythmicly against the cabin’s wall knocking a gentle wake up call. The window stopped the full gust of wind but a small separation between the window and frame allowed the cold wind to brush across Peter’s face as he laid still. He listened for a moment all nestled in bed to the peace of the wind’s whisper.
By Sheila L. Chingwa5 months ago in Fiction
Let’s Go Babes!
Holidays are the times for tradition. My mother was one who loved the Holidays with her children. Cookies, shopping and family comes to visit her. One tradition my mother and I had was a evening drive to look at the light shows that homeowners display.
By Sheila L. Chingwa6 months ago in Families
“We” not "Me": Shenanigans
I am one who doesn’t like to fail. I know hurting my foot was not failure, accidents do happen, but I was forced to admit defeat. However, it is still a goal unmet and it is not setting well with me. I have had many pouting moments this past month since my injury. Yet, there was nothing I could do to meet that goal so I have to make peace with that and move the trip.
By Sheila L. Chingwa6 months ago in Geeks
Dear Pope Frances
Dear Pope Frances, Once again, I, Jiibi Kwe, am here coming to talk to you today to ask for help. The Native Americans seek closure and you have the key to unlock the truth in our history. I would like to ask if the Cavatican would release the records that may be encased behind locked doors in regards to the records of the boarding schools. This is a plea for the children and a plea for my culture for justice.
By Sheila L. Chingwa6 months ago in Futurism
Chapter 7: Chavo’s message
The shabby shed was cold and the blankets over Peter kept him warm and safe from the chill around him. Brightness blinded his eyes as the light revealed the room around him was small and cut rude wall supports had spider webs in the corners. He took a deep breath and pulled his sore arm over his chest and pulled himself up to the seated position. He cupped his head into his hands and leaned in and rubbed his eyes to get clearer vision. His left arm trobbed and his hand found a bandage over the ache. With a wiggle of his toes and a shift of the left and right of his rib cage he assessed all his wounds. He could hear a voice speaking in the other room.
By Sheila L. Chingwa6 months ago in Fiction
