family

I am Me; I am the Peacock
I Am Me I can be a chameleon. My unwed mother was raised by a strict Methodist preacher. To her credit, she chose me over her parents. Sadly, she was too young and couldn’t handle solo parenting (my father was never in the picture), so I was bounced around from one family member to another.
By Liz Montanoabout 14 hours ago in Fiction
Dr Pepper Zero and Wet Grass
I stepped from the cold comfort of our home, as the central heating had been switched off; the bite of autumn soon to be winter could be felt in the air. Even seconds before when I stood on the inside of the door, bracing myself, I gasped and saw my breath drift from my mouth towards the mosaic windows. Now, settling out from the natural darkness of a home when everything is powered down, I entered the embrace of a more intense drop in temperature and luminance. My fingers ached as the atmosphere feasted on the bare skin, as the light, fine rain coated the shiny surface of my bald head. I could unlock the door, of course, and retrace my steps to the bedroom and pick up my padded waterproof gloves. But, a very deep fear gripped me, held me tight, and I knew in this state of flux I found myself in, there was no going back or I would simply never leave. So I lifted the handle and double locked, listening to the metallic mechanisms and springs clunk.
By Paul Stewartabout 19 hours ago in Fiction
YESTERDAY’S MEMORIES
Donna and her mother, Cora, are sitting on the steps outside of their apartment, eyeing the same people: the homeless pushing their shopping carts of belongings, the alcoholics with their whisky in brown paper bags, which they share with each other, and the scantily dressed prostitutes, day after day, walking back and forth in the neighborhood going somewhere but getting nowhere. The sound of police sirens and ambulances is often heard as they speed up and down the streets.
By Frankie Berry Wise2 days ago in Fiction
We Don't Talk to Edith Thompson Part 2. Content Warning.
Ch 2: Don't September 2nd, 2025, 8:35 AM "W-what do you mean, 'we don't talk to Edith Thompson'?" I questioned, my mind spinning from this confusing revelation.
By Rain Dayze4 days ago in Fiction
Food the Soul
Bangers and mash. Ready in four minutes. Simply heat and eat. That’s what it says on the box. But looking at the single shrivelled sausage and grey pile of mush on the plate before me, I have to admit, I’m hesitant. I’m not the only one. I cast a glance across the table towards my youngest daughter, Sally. She’s busy pushing the pieces of cut-up sausage across her pink plastic plate. Her older sister, Jessica is just frowning at hers, looking confused.
By Kait7 days ago in Fiction
Chaos Kitty!
“Chaos Walking” is headed my way! I fear — today — it will be here to stay! Five dreary months since our beloved pets, Huddy and Mia ‘left town’ suddenly.
By Angie the Archivist 📚🪶9 days ago in Fiction
The Final Words. Top Story - October 2026.
My time has come. After 114 years on this mortal coil, I can feel it deep down in my bones. I’m bedridden and unable to move. My eyesight is slipping as is my hearing. I’ve been in this bed for so long that I welcome this eternal transition that’s about to happen to me.
By Dean Traylor11 days ago in Fiction
My Father Said Three Words About My Watch. It Took Me Five Years to Understand.
Where the Second Hand Passes I The watch shop sat on the ground floor of the mall. Too bright, almost fake. I had just started working. I wanted to buy one thing that would stay with me. In the glass cases, the dials looked like tiny stages. Some had diamonds. Some had too many functions. Some all but announced their price. I looked for a long time and stopped at a Longines Master Collection. Silver barleycorn dial. Blued steel hands. A date window. Quiet. It didn’t try to prove anything.
By Jin12 days ago in Fiction
Design and Drive
Claire knows the last thing she should be doing is sneaking a dress form into her family’s house. For one, dress forms are bulky things that are quite difficult to hide, but she didn’t think about that when Arthur said he found one for cheap from a thrift store going out of business.
By caitodoesstuff13 days ago in Fiction
Benevolent Gardens
The was room cool and dark, but Braffion was exuding with anticipation. On his messy bed, he stared at his dresser. No, not just dresser. He stared at what was on top of the dresser.
By Devond Devoe13 days ago in Fiction
"Not on the Menu...?" . AI-Generated.
" The Tale of Aunt Faye’s Speacial Pot of Hillbilly Luck, The neon sign at the Honky-Tonk saloon buzzed like an angry hornet, but inside, the mood was thick with tension and the smell of charred brisket. Vicky sat at the head of the table, in her pink cowboy hat tilted low, staring down a massive, steaming iron cauldron in the center of the table.
By Vicky 'A' Blevins Reavis14 days ago in Fiction
The Black Path
It’s warm and well in the afternoon and the sky begins to signal that it’s angry. Reighos walks out the grocery store on the same page. No, it’s less than that.
By Devond Devoe15 days ago in Fiction