literature
Families and literature go hand in hand; fictional families to entertain, reflect and inspire.
The Eight
The Eight Prue found her brother, eighty-year old Joe McKenna, slumped over a burning Cohiba and a snifter of Louis XIII, still gripping the little black notebook that he carried with him everywhere—even to bed. She pried his stiffening fingers off the book, rummaged through his desk for his will—she found it, read it, and put it back. The notebook she took.
By Claire Butler3 years ago in Families
Table 7
On an early Saturday morning, just after sunrise at a Diner in the middle of nowhere, Sonny sat staring out the window over the green pasture. The small silver number 7 on his table caught the morning sunlight and reflected onto his crisp white buttoned up shirt. As he adjusted the salt n pepper shakers and ran his finger along the edge of the cold glossy marble table, thoughts of his mother came to mind.
By Shahnee Hunter3 years ago in Families
Better Late Than Never
“To my son— I bet you weren’t expecting to hear from me. ‘Better late than never’, as they say.” When that small black notebook arrived in my bundle of mail, taped shut with my name and address hastily scribbled onto an index card and plastered to the cover, I didn't know what to think. My father and I had a tentative relationship, at best, so when my mind registered that the handwriting was his, I expected the worst. I left the notebook on my breakfast counter, in plain sight to remind me that it was there, but still sealed because I wasn't sure it was worth the potential mental anguish to open it. I even considered throwing it in the trash. Burning it. Returning it.
By Cillian Martin3 years ago in Families
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 Lucille3 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 Dardenne3 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 Bartho3 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 Jamison3 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 Kloc3 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 Bonassin3 years ago in Families