Vicki Zell
Stories (2/0)
Home
Home to many is a place of memories. A single conception of moments in time we shared yet most forget, and some remember in bits and pieces. Still, the concept of what once was, holds ground to our feet leading us along a path in any direction we choose to take and leads us back to our roots without pause whenever need be. Whether the need contains a decision of happiness, sadness, betrayal or loss, we forever have a way back to our roots as a tree stands for hundreds of years. Home is a virus. Never ending but forever lingering throughout the generations attached to it. Like a virus, it waits, prepares, then follows with a defiant strain, a new path unlike the old; one you haven't seen the likes of. Home and family remains to deplete this shared home we all call Earth, the home that will answer the call once and for all. Our Eden will be forced to become a part of a fear that has been knocking at our borders of all four corners. As the three little pigs knocked at the door, huffing and puffing, so will we blow this house down.
By Vicki Zell3 years ago in Poets
A Piece of Cake
It all started when my Aunt Serious came to visit. I had not seen my aunt in over two years and I was wondering how Serious looked after Uncle Hearing told me Serious had slipped and fallen on a banana peel someone had left on the backstairs of her apartment complex.
By Vicki Zell3 years ago in Fiction