literature
Families and literature go hand in hand; fictional families to entertain, reflect and inspire.
Empty Pages
“This book will help someone when they need it most” said the old man. It didn’t look like it help anybody when they need it most, thought Maria. It was an old, pocket sized, leather bound notebook with a silk ribbon attached from the spine. The corners looked rounded but comforting and the black leather was soft, although it was scuffed and scratched with a smudge on the front cover.
By David Calvert6 years ago in Families
Claim What's Yours
The view from the top of Half Dome was just as spectacular as I knew it would be, and just as familiar. Kind of like coming home, really, to see the valley nearly 9,000 feet below, with its ancient glacial cut extending northeastward up Tenaya Canyon and El Capitan at the opposite end of the vista to the west; rolling mountaintops hiding fields and forests on the horizon opposite my rocky perch. At 9:00 in the morning the sun warmed my back while I gazed into the distance, remembering Jossman Burrell and letting him know I’d finally made it. Hoisting my backpack I felt the weight of the box containing his ashes. Two years Grampa Joss had been waiting for me to bring him back to this place that held his heart and soul. Given his deep affinity for the Dome, it seemed strange to me that he didn’t want his ashes to be released here, among the fissures and splitting granitic flakes on this beloved and distinctively rounded peak that dominated Yosemite’s skyline. He’d asked instead that his sooty remains be given to the grasses and soil of Tuolomne Meadows. But that was tomorrow’s task; for now he was just along for the ride and one last chance to top the Dome.
By JANINA M FULLER6 years ago in Families
Gretchen
Gretchen saved my life. This old woman of four foot nine came into my world and turned it upside down and inside out in the blink of an eye. It was solely because of her that I was able to walk across the stage to receive my business degree in front of my adoring family.
By Syerra Milliman6 years ago in Families
In Memory of My Grandmother
Stephany struggled to put the memorial flowers in the back of the rental as the rain poured down heavily around her. She couldn’t leave that place without taking something with her because soon they would shut the lid to her grandmother’s casket. She wondered what would happen to the flowers and grew angry at the thought of leaving them behind.
By Lore S. Crown 6 years ago in Families
Grandpa's Old Barn
Grandpa’s Old Barn The old red barn was one of their favorite places to play and explore. Something new surfaced every time they spent an afternoon in the loft. They often found themselves playing pirates or gladiators or jet pilots. Fantasies sparked by the things Grandpa had left behind. Swords, chain mail, armor, and hand-made fighter planes were among the unique curiosities he had amassed during his life. Each item was carefully selected for preservation during his later days when he most tightly embraced minimizing and became one of the new band of stoics. Grandma thought the old barn was weak and dangerous as it leaned a bit east from long winters enduring westerly winds, but she couldn't keep them out of the loft.
By Thomas Durbin6 years ago in Families
LOST AND FOUND
Abner Wentworth mainly kept to himself. Everyone who knew Abner – the wealthiest and longest-standing resident in the small town of Hansonville, New York – associated him with his most prized possession: a small, black leather bound notebook he carried with him everywhere. No one in Hansonville knew what was in the notebook, but if Abner was out and about, he could always be seen either reading through the notebook or writing in it.
By Michael Volk6 years ago in Families
Aida & Seven Tasks
Eee eee, the bed cried as she dove onto her twin sized bed. “Ahhh,” she stared at the ceiling with her arms sprawled like silly string, and she took in one of those deep breaths where your spine gently curls and your body sinks into sweet surrender.
By Cynthia Yang6 years ago in Families
Rule of Three
The thirty year-old woman guided her rented Civic up the quarter mile of gravel driveway. She glanced to the left, the way she had done a million times before as the white farmhouse with the blue trim came into view between two ancient oak trees. Her heart felt bruised, barely moving inside her chest as she pulled to a stop next to the three concrete steps that lead up to the side-porch door. She waited for her grandmother’s face to appear, blurred by the screen door, but vibrant, and excited to see her.
By Vicki Scott6 years ago in Families
