immediate family

Blood makes you related, loyalty makes you family.

  • Hazell McKenzie
    Published about 16 hours ago
    Suitcase Of Dreams

    Suitcase Of Dreams

    We had a picture-perfect start to 1999. It was the year I would turn 18, a major milestone. This was the age when I thought I would be free from parental control. I should have known better, because Mom was having none of it. Once you lived under her roof, you will always be a child to her no matter your age. She consistently repeat, “Two woman cah live een a one house.” These were the bounda-ries she created. Everyone knew their role and how to play them.
  • Diane Campbell
    Published a day ago
    Mummy Diaries

    Mummy Diaries

    I cried my eyes out at the thought of losing J, my partner. God that sounds like I’m in a same-sex relationship but honestly boyfriend at the age of 34 sounds awful. It is the first time in months my children have been tender and caring towards me that I can remember. I mean we cuddle and kiss before bed and before school but these are obligatory hugs and expected cwtches (look it up its Welsh).
  • Unidentified Writer
    Published 3 days ago
    I need to get out

    I need to get out

    I don't like ceremonies, I would even go as far to say that I dislike them. I was not the kind of kid who'd get ashamed by the mere presence of my parents in public settings, but nor would I enjoy it that much. When I was younger I enjoyed spending time with my mother, and perhaps with my father too, but I always felt like my mom was more emphatic to my life.
  • Raain
    Published 4 days ago
    The helpless life

    The helpless life

    Who am I? Do you really want to know ? Hell; sometimes I don’t even know! I have more personality than I can handle, but yet i’m still in this messed up world. It’s not as bad anymore. It’s just getting good. Here I am; in this classroom. Starring at all these people; who wants me to become famous, or just an actress, or actor like myself. My director stands in front of me. With her long reddish hair, slim nice body, and a pale face. With a book in her hand; as if she knows it all. Who can tell me what I am? or What I can, or cannot do? I was born to be successful. When I was five years old; I can remember pain. It’s not a pain where you fall off a bike, and scraped your knee; type of a pain, but one you will never forget in a lifetime. My mother she was a beautiful black women. With almonds shape eyes, and a curvy body; that men would lust for! Truthfully; underneath that pretty smile, and sweet ways; was a conniving, dishonest, money hungry, manipulative, and head strong bold women. She did anything to get what she wanted. My father; disappeared when I was three years old. The things that I could remember about him; he was kind-hearted and giving. He made sure the family was taken care of, but he was a drug addict at the same time. Now; I had my stepfather. Who was a different kind of man. Someone; who is not my father, but doesn’t deserve to be called a stepfather either. He was tall, black or dark skinned; maybe around 5’8. Not a handsome man. Who asked little girls, “to come sit on his lap”, and he give them money ( me in particular) . He always took me places with him. We had gone into the woods; where I shot my first shotgun. It had nearly blown my shoulder off. We went on dirt trails; for him to teach me how to drive. This happened more than once. Not to mention; I had everything a kid wanted (candy). I was happy when I turned seven. I went to go visit my father for two weeks; who lived in California, because my mother went to prison. I was beyond happy to see him. We went to zoos, parks, out to eat ,swimming. We saw a lot of places, and did a bunch of things together with my siblings, cousins, and grandmother (his mother). What my father didn’t know; was that when it got close to bedtime; I was afraid of him! Afraid to sleep next to him, and afraid that he would try things with me. However; it never happened. All he wanted was to comfort me before I slept. I lived with my mother throughout my childhood. All I saw was the blood, the hate, the rage, the fear, the tears, the starvation, and the loss of hope. On a nice day my mother and stepfather would throw bbq’s. We would have them a-lot of the times. On this particular day; we had one it; when I was about 11 years old, and my closest bother was 12 years old. He was short like me, but a little taller than myself. He had high yellow-brownish skin. He was handsome, and clean cut; with eyes that capture tramps. He was a smooth talker with no action. My brother 18 years old; was tall 6 1 dark skinned, and handsome; with a personality that girls couldn't get a enough. He was a chill, cool, and laid-back kind of brother. My other brother; who was 15 years old had reddish-brown skin. He was not too tall, but had golden hair with a low cut, and golden skinned hairs; like mine on his arms. They were smooth and nice. He could be evil at the same time. He also could be a ladies man. However; it would have been many; if they weren’t afraid of him. All of us waiting around for my mother’s sweet beans, potatoes salad, bbq hamburgers, macaroni and cheese. My aunties and uncles would be in the backyard playing cards. The blues played on the radio. It was definitely a good day. At least for the moment. Out of nowhere it happens! Blood being splattered. My uncle and stepfather were fighting. Both of their faces were covered in blood.My uncle had struck my stepfather across his face. He put a deep gash; where the blood was rushing down the center of his forehead. My stepfather; then struck him back in the face. Now his face was bleeding too. My mother begin to standup for my stepfather. My uncle then struck her in the mouth. Now she was also bleeding. My brother Tony then struck my uncle; for hitting my mother. The police were called, and everything went back to normal. The night falls, and everyone is in their on space. I can hear my other uncle’s truck pull up. It had this loud motor. You could hear it. Especially, if you were at the front of the house. I guess he heard about earlier. I look out the window. He was coming quickly to the front door. He came in and started yelling at my mother. They begin to fight, and my brother helps once again. Only this time it almost took his life. My uncle started fighting my brother; stabbing him in his back. There was a piece of glass left sticking out his back. All the while I could see the blood splatter. As; they continue to fight. My uncle then flees out of the house. He was leaving my brother in the need of medical attention. He was taken to the hospital, but he was not able to tell what really happen. My mother was big on keeping secrets. Her most famous words were, “I will say what goes on in this house; stays in this house”. Her boyfriend would beat her all the time. She was always covered in blood. Tony didn’t know that. He lived with my father’s mother; our grandma. He always would visit in the summers growing up. This year he wanted to stay for good. It was a hot summer night. My stepfather decided he wanted to beat my mother that night. Things didn’t turn out well for him this time. He was so use to me, and my other two brothers ignoring it . It was the usual. But, not to Tony . He heard my mother screaming. He jumped up; I followed behind him. My other two brothers got up after they heard a sound that was not normal . My stepfather screaming for his life. Tony was beating him in his face; with a hammer. When he stopped; my stepfather ran out the house. He yelled that he would kill my brother. My mother yelled that my stepfather was never coming back. We knew it was a lie. Tony didn't know; in fact he didn't know a lot. When my stepfather returned. He decided to move back to California. Weeks had pasted;Tony was was waiting on my grandma to come get him. He had begun to act strange. Since my stepfather returned. He pulled a gun out on me; and l told him I was telling. He convinced me not too. I still wondered why I didn’t tell on him? Things are just, as normal as, they were going to get. My auntie was planning a crawfish boil. We were all excited to go, but hoping just no fights. We always were unlucky for fights that happened. My brothers, myself, and a cousin were standing on the porch. We were singing, laughing, and playing around. When My mother yelled out, “it’s time to go”. My oldest brother said, “we going to get a ride over there later!” it was still early. My mother and stepfather left. We all went inside to their room; that they all shared together. Everyone was laughing and joking around. Tony pulled out the gun and pointed it at everyone . My oldest brother told him to stop playing and lets go back outside. Tony puts the gun to his head and pulled the trigger. The gun didn’t go off. He then laughed, and said,”y'all thought i was gone kill myself!” twice. My oldest brother said again, “lets go outside”. We began to leave out. The next thing you know was a loud sound went off. Tony had shot himself in the head. Blood was splashing everywhere. His eyes were rolling back in his head; while he shaking. My oldest brother began yelling, screaming, jumping, punching, and kicking the door. The ambulance were called. He was taken to Baton Rouge General Hospital. He was later on a breathing machine and pronounced brain dead. I cried a lot during this time. All i could remember is the song we sung together; before it happened and the kindness of him being in my presence. I made it to the hospital for the third time to say my goodbyes. They were taking him off life support. I walked in and I look at my brother, and I sung that song,”Don't leave me”, by the Backstreet Boys. It had just came out. I kept singing it and crying. Moments later a tear from my brother face had fallen down his left cheek. It was the last time I saw him. My second big brother. The summer had past. My mother had landed herself back in prison. Back to california for us. This time it was a school year. My father was waiting to see me and my younger brother. Our father gave us an allowance every Wednesday. For me just being with my dad we had a good life for a moment. However; my father was back on drugs and disappeared many times. We ultimately had stopped going to school. We started hanging out with friends, and doing drugs, and drinking liquor. My closest brother and myself. We noticed our father didn't come home for the two weeks at a time. We then split up and we went our separate ways. Soon I didn't even know where he was, and neither did he know where I was. It didn’t matter at the time. We both had no where to go and had to find our own way in this world.
  • Roberta Carly Redford
    Published 5 days ago
    Lost and Found

    Lost and Found

    Marcie put on her headphones and turned the music up. Tonight she didn’t want to think about anything, or to hear the regular, everyday noises her family would be making. Aunt Emma was arriving tomorrow from some foreign port, and Marcie knew she would not feel like listening to exotic stories of a journalism career, not now, when her own life felt like such a mess.
  • Hope Oldehaver Tuia
    Published 5 days ago
           "Growing up in Paradise"

    "Growing up in Paradise"

    Growing up in Samoa, was a simple, beautiful yet poor life. Go to church every Sunday then followed by bible study sessions which is, I highly doubt you can get out of as it is compulsory within the church as it is to culture. I always had two mates that would pick me up from my house and we'd go together, and I'd never take my siblings because they would always be too much trouble which I regret now because I was harsh on them, not all the time but sometimes. They were little kids, they were too much to handle for me aha. Go to school and repeat, do the work as well as do the teachers lunch chores every time the lunch bell rings. Afterwards we clean up, wash the dishes after school. But it always depends on who the teachers pick, which was sadly always me and my friends. Our principal had a habit of picking on me and my mates and always unavoidable. On our way home after school, its a task to drop of our teachers school work as they stay behind school. We get home, do our chores and repeat the whole cycle but fun was never a problem. That's why our childhood was fun and added with a little bitterness. And after that I would walk to our uncle's shop and come back with groceries and leaving him with a big tap hehe,but it was OK because he was our family.
  • Bakhtawar
    Published 5 days ago
    I Would Rather Be Ruined Than Change: My confession

    I Would Rather Be Ruined Than Change: My confession

    “We would rather be ruined than changed
  • Cameron Marquis
    Published 7 days ago
    Déjà Maybe

    Déjà Maybe

    “You see, the crazy thing about real love is,” dad randomly lectured on as he always does, “even though there are many ‘definitions’ of the word; philosophers, poets, and artists of all forms have all tried to describe or portray their perspective of what love may be. And that’s the beauty of art! But love is indescribable, and that’s the beauty of love!!”
  • Lorna M
    Published 14 days ago
    The kiss Goodbye.
  • Jolinda Brown
    Published 14 days ago
    TURN IN A BAD HAND

    TURN IN A BAD HAND

    I WAS BORN DECEMBER A WEEK BEFORE CHRISTMAS. ALL I CAN REMEMBER IS FIGHTING SCREAMING AND CRYING. I COULD NEVER SLEEP PEACEFULLY. MY DAD WOULD COME HOME DRUNK AND START PICKING ARGUMENTS WITH MY STEPMOM. I HATED WHEN HE CAME HOME. WE NEVER KNEW WHAT TO EXPECT. AT THE AGE OF 4 MY DAD TOOK ME AND MY SISTER AWAY FROM MY MOTHER. AND MOVED US IN WITH A LADY THAT SOON TURNED OUT TO BE MY BROTHER'S MOM. SHE KNEW MY DAD WAS MARRIED AND HAD 2 DAUGHTERS AND SHE STILL ALLOWED HIM TO BRING US TO HER HOUSE AND HAVE A ALREADY MADE FAMILY. DURING THEM YEARS LIFE WAS SO CONFUSING WE NEVER KNEW WHO WAS WHO AND WHAT WAS WHAT. MY DAD USE TO BEAT ME. WHEN I WAS 9 ONE OF MY OLDEST COUSIN MOLESTED ME. I KEPT THAT A SECRET UP UNTIL HAD ENOUGH SECRETS TO SELF DESTRUCT. BY THE TIME MY DAD WAS TIRED OF THE STEP MOM HE MET A VERY YOUNG GIRL .AND HE DECIDED TO LEAVE HER AND GO SHACK UP WITH THIS YOUNG GIRL. SHE DIDN'T WANT A ALREADY MADE FAMILY SO MY DAD DECIDED TO GIVE US BACK TO OUR MOM. BY THAT TIME MY MOM ALSO WAS SELF DESTRUCTING IN AN ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP AND USING DRUGS. AT THE AGE OF 14 MY MOM DIED FROM AN OVERDOSE OF HEROIN. THAT IS WHEN MY LIFE TOOK A TURN FOR THE WORST. BESIDES MY MANY SECRETS AND ALL THE ABUSE AND ABANDONMENT I RELIVED MY MOTHER'S LIFE. I CHOSE ABUSIVE MEN I STARTED USING DRUGS.AT THE AGE OF 17 I HAD MY FIRST CHILD. SHE WAS EVERYTHING TO ME. HOWEVER MENTALLY AND PHYSICALLY I COULDN'T FIND THE LOVE I SO DESPERATELY WANTED TO GIVE HER. AT THE AGE OF 18 I WAS SENTENCED TO 1 YEAR IN JAIL. MY GRANDMOTHER RAISED MY DAUGHTER BECAUSE I WAS SO BOUND BY MY SECRETS AND HURT I REVERTED BACK TO WHAT I KNEW SO WELL. AT THE GE OF 27 I WAS SENTENCED TO 81/2 YEARS IN BEDFORD HILL CORRECTIONAL FACILITY WHERE I THEN WAS ABLE TO WORK ON MYSELF AND GET THE TREATMENT I NEEDED TO UNDERSTAND WHY AND WHO WAS AND WHAT WAS MY PURPOSE IN THIS THING CALLED LIFE. I MET A MAN THAT TREATED MY LIKE A PERSON A WOMEN HE TAUGHT ME THAT I WAS BETTER THEN MY CHOICES BETTER THEN MY SECRETS AND BETTER THEN MY HURT. THAT WAS MY SON'S DAD. IN 2004 HE PASSED AWAY. I FELT THAT EVERY HAND I WAS DEALT WAS THE WRONG HAND,, WHY ME. I THEN MET A MAN THAT I FINALLY FELL IN LOVE WITH AND MARRIED, I HAVE BEN MARRIED FOR 13 YEARS I HAVE MY OWN APARTMENT MY SON HAS GRADUATED HS AND IS SOON LEAVING TO THE MILITARY. TODAY I AM A PROUD MOM AND I LOVE MYSELF MY FAMILY AND MY LIFE... IF I COULD DO IT SO CAN YOU!!!!!
  • Faye Renee
    Published 15 days ago
    3 Strong Men...

    3 Strong Men...

    The three strongest men that I've ever known were my father, Horace Grey, Jr., his sons (my brothers), Carl Sidnye Grey, and Derrick DeWayne Grey… all gone from this earth and my life. Happy Father's Day to all of them, R.I.H.     
  • Irene Cbiztv Washington
    Published 19 days ago
    Father's Day

    Father's Day

    Father's Day