literature
Families and literature go hand in hand; fictional families to entertain, reflect and inspire.
My family are trying to kill me
Dear Diary, They are trying to kill me. I know it. Today, we were sat at dinner and my granddaughter had made a lasagne. I tucked into my food, minding my own business when my daughter Claudia, shoved my chair. And when I say shoved, she damn well kicked the leg expecting it to just collapse beneath me. Fortunately, my guard was already up and I grabbed onto the table with both hands. ‘Oops, sorry! Tripped!’ She just said before continuing back to her seat. The bitch. My family are supposed to love me and yet here I am fighting for my life every day in this damned house. At least I have you. My little black book.
By Bibi Lucille6 years ago in Families
Small Miracles
The girl woke to the sound of men shouting. When she opened her eyes, she realized three men were arguing in the alleyway. Shae looked at her watch tiredly, realizing it was 3 pm. She must have fallen asleep reading her book. She grabbed her backpack, put her book in it and her blanket wrapped around her shoulders, and started walking towards the main street. Shae had been homeless for 6 months. At only 15, she made the mistake of getting pregnant by her boyfriend on her 15th birthday, and her father had kicked her out. The day Shae told her father she had just gotten home from school, all she had was her backpack with some books in it and her iPod. So here she was, now 15, 6 months pregnant, and living on the streets. She had tried to talk to her boyfriend, but he denied the baby and then broke up with her. She was left alone and scared.
By Shanondoa Dardenne6 years ago in Families
The Old Man and the Bridge
He stirred to consciousness, covered in cold sweat again. Taking a minute to steady his racing heart with deep breaths, he tried to block out the familiar intrusive thoughts. One last breath, in for eight and out for - oh forget it, this never works anyway. He let the last bit of air out in one loud cough and rolled over onto his left side, trying to blink the memory of his dream from his mind. He was wide awake now.
By Felicity Bartho6 years ago in Families
The Boy on the Swing
Beep… beep… beep, sounded the heart rate monitor, as the old man lay resting on his warm and snug mattress. This constant beeping noise irritated him to no end, despite understanding its purpose full well. His half-open eyes gazed at the slim space between the closed curtains through which the sunlight still faintly gleamed. He heard the quiet footsteps of the nurse as she entered to remove the bowl of soup which was still sitting in his lap.
By Ryan Jamison6 years ago in Families
Chasing Chad
Slivers of light sneak through the blinds and catch my eyes. My arms drift above my head as a stretch tackles my body. I pull myself from the couch and realize the time. 2:18am. A smile slips across my face; I forgot about the time change. I forgot about the flight. I forgot how I got here, why I’m here, all of it.
By Melynda Kloc6 years ago in Families
Good to See You Again
Recently, I came across a hard drive from college. I found some of the pieces I had for creative writing workshops, thinking maybe it would nice to share it with the world. This is the only piece that seemed worth the light of day, a short story I wrote in my first year as a creative writing student
By Nathan J Bonassin6 years ago in Families
The Artists' Way
‘He’d be so proud if he knew,’ she thought to herself, as she gazed at the folds of the plane’s wing out of the thick plexiglass of the cabin window. She pondered the magnificence of this moment, where she would finally touch the earth of her family’s heritage before they migrated to America. She was thinking of her Grandfather, and how he would be rejoicing if only he were still here to know of it. He’d passed away not long before she accepted the job to conserve the famous Il Bacio (The Kiss) in Milan. Her Grandfather’s passion for art had been one of the strongest bonds they shared together. Once, he too was an art conservator as a young man in Italy. But that was a lifetime ago.
By Shauna Lynch6 years ago in Families
My Dad is Magic
As a child, I remember my father always carrying around a red handkerchief, a small multi-use tool (which included a hammer, blade, wrench, and Phillips screw driver all in one), and a small black book with a pen. With these items in his possession, anything was possible. ANYTHING. According to our family, my father is considered a Gomez legend. Although I truly enjoy listening to all of their stories about him, it is not necessary for me to learn about his greatness because I had my own first-hand experiences.
By Summer Gomez6 years ago in Families
The Book
"No matter what, promise you'll take care of yourself." His brilliant blue eyes had already begun to fade as his large hand trembled in hers. Pleading with her, he pulled her closer, "promise me Elizabeth that you will always try your best." Elizabeth watched helplessly as the life continued to fade from his once strong body, "the answer is in the barn…" with widened eyes and a ragged breath he was gone.
By Megan Fontes6 years ago in Families
