Different kinds of life
A walk to the park between mother and son
It was a Friday afternoon and Kimberly was waitng for her fifth grade son Samuel by their home, a apartment building. She sees his yellow school bus pull up in front of the building. Once the bus stopped in front of the building, Samuel would see Kimberly sitting on the white bench that was close by the front door. She wad waiting for him around 3:30 and once he had gotten off the bus, she noticed that he was not looking happy. It always hurts her to see her only son in pain and she wanted to know why. It was already bad enough for him that both of his parents had not spoken to each other lately and they were on the verge of a divorce but what happened that day was probably added on top of his stress. Wanting to get him to talk, she decided to take him to a ice cream truck nearby. Once they approach the ice cream truck, she requests for a ice cream sandwich and Samuel just simply ask for plain scoop on a cone. The two then walk to the nearby park and went to get to some shade under a large tree.
"What's wrong?" She asked him while he was eating his ice cream cone.
"Nothing." He said to her. She then give him a quick stern stare, which would get her children to talk. That was when he decided to talk about his day.
"I got into a fight today." He told her in a very upset tone. Earlier that morning, two classmates came up to him, taking his book and throwing it to each other. He pushes one of them who then pushed him harder to the floor as the incident was recorded by other students. She was definitely upset about what Samuel told her.
"No one came to help me. They were staring and laughing." He said sadly. Kimberly quickly hugs him as she hated having her children put through situations like what happened to him. However, he felt it was equally bad at home. Both Kimberly and his father Will were about to separate and considered getting a divorce. Samuel and his two sisters often worried about how their parents arguments might end. Usually Samuel would be the center of their arguments because after coming home Will would yell at him and Kimberly was mad about that. One time, Will tripped on one of Samuel's toys and screamed at him for it. Kimberly heard Will from her room and quickly came to the living room. She could see Samuel's expression and was not happy herself.
"Stop it Will." She shouted at him, getting his attention and he then looked at her. They would end arguing for the past couple of months while he does his homework. He could hear them yelling at each other while he is asleep at night. He also can hear his father throwing things against the wall while still yelling breaking them. The sounds terrified Samuel and his younger sister Anne as they were hiding under his bed. His older sister Charlotte a high school sophomore would spend the weekend at a friend's house to clear her head and avoid getting into any trouble with Will. It had been this way ever since she was young to the time Samuel came along. Now he would have to deal with her not around as much or at all when she graduates from high school. Especially since Anne is already a third grader, she would need her just as much as Samuel, probably even more. One night, Kimberly took the kids to her sister's house while things cool down. Back at the park, the two were finishing up and walked back home.
"I'll talk to someone on Monday." She told Samuel as they were walking and puts her hand on his shoulder.
About the Creator
Forest Green
Hi. I am a writer with some years of experiences, although I am still working out the progress in my work. I make different types of stories that I hope many will enjoy. I also appreciate tips, and would like my stories should be noticed.
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More stories from Forest Green and writers in Fiction and other communities.
Lost Owl in the Woods
It was around midnight and the Roberts family were preparing to go to sleep as they were camping. The mother and father were sleeping in their own tent and so did the three children. The youngest child, Wilma, could not sleep and felt like she was hearing things outside. Somehow it had no effect on her older siblings. The twelve year old had then exited the green tent and started slowly. While walking she still heard the noise and could not figure out what it was and where it was coming from. She kept walking in the left direction of the forest and stopped by a tree that overshadowed her five two frame. She could hear the noise being close and looked around in different directions. She then looked up at the tree she was next to and saw a gray owl sitting on a branch. She had figured out where the noise came from and what it was. Wilma waved at the owl as it hooed. The owl flew down slowly to the ground right by Wilma's feet. She kneel in front of the owl and noticed that its left wing was hurt. She figured that the owl must have hurt itself during a flight. But what was going through in her mind was what to do about the broken wing. She then carried the owl back to the area where her family's tents are. She quickly reached into a black duffle bag and took out a first aid kit. She tried not to make much noise to help heal the owl.
By Forest Green2 years ago in Fiction
Peanuts and Crackerjack
Bottom of the ninth inning. The game is tied with two outs, two strikes and a man on second. I tap the bat on home plate. The rigid vibrations it creates reminds my aching digits that this isn't over. The practice swing only adds to the heft of mental burnout... Man on second, willing to chance it. Pitcher eyes him but doesn't give in to the dangerous bluff. I kick up dust, readying the peculiar stance I've had since the days of little league. The bat lays stiff upon my cramping shoulder. Pain has no reason to be acknowledged; it's a fleeting afterthought. The sun sits passed high noon, but the stadium lights are on anyway. They trick my brain into believing they are the cause of this sweltering heat. Sporadic clouds are motionless, they too, don't want to miss this exhilarating predicament. Anticipating the next pitch, intensifying roars from the crowd rumble the stadium... Behind me, the crafty catcher adjusts his stance and spits to the dry dirt. Behind him, the staunch umpire doesn't flinch or even blink; he knows how important his call will be. The pitcher winds up, his grip tells me its gonna curve. The release is fierce! Beads of sweat from his hair and face disperse in every direction as the force of his might is unfailing. My left leg lifts—an instinctual move that will increase the power of my swing. It's all down to my two, bloodshot eyes. They lock onto the speeding, white dot as it instantly becomes the target I intend to destroy. The swing is late, but I manage a solid tip. The ball is taking a fast bounce toward the pitcher who is recovering from the almighty throw! Man on second leaves in a desperate rush! I fling the bat to the side with a sense of urgency and make a mad sprint to the only destination I have—first base. Three defenders race inward to be the first to retrieve the skidding ball. Man is almost on third! I watch the open glove of my adversary, wondering if I’ve done enough to win this race. I switch my attention to his eyes, looking for a clue, some kind of reaction that tells me the ball is in the air and heading his way. All I see is frustration. The deafening roar of the crowd spikes! Something happens that I can’t see! My opponent abandons his post right as my left stride touches the bag. I waste no time turning my head to see the pitcher laying on his stomach, pounding the mound with an open glove. He misses the opportunity to out me and the ball has quickly bounced past him. Excitement grows! This isn’t over yet... It's become an imperative fight to tag out the runner heading homeward. The catcher falls to his knees in obvious despair as he watches my teammate make the run of his life. He knows it’s going to be close when he sees the shortstop fumble the ball a second too long. I jump up and down with no plans on leaving first base. All my chips are on the speed and agility of the active runner. His cleats dig into the dirt, trailing a dust-filled cyclone from the rapid and strenuous strides. With a thrusting dive and an outstretched arm, he lands on his chest to begin the crucial slide to home plate. The shortstop fires the ball to the catcher! It immediately begins closing the gap! Nail-biting doesn't begin to describe the anxious vibe permeating the stadium. The bench begins to celebrate even before he reaches the plate. Forty thousand cheering fans reach maximum crescendo, filling the air with a glorious sound. Everyone knows how this story will end… My teammate is met by the entire bench as his fingers inch across home plate, instantly followed by the unmistakable motion of the catcher's glove attempting to tag him out—its milliseconds too late. The ump swings his arms outward, officially calling him safe.
By Lamar Wiggins5 days ago in Fiction
OF MOTHERHOOD.
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By Catherine Nyomenda6 days ago in Writers
Comments (1)
Well written story with a bit of angst and shimmers of hope. Good job.