family

The Roommate
I was heartily sick of lying in a hospital bed. Blood tests, meds, blood tests, meds. Lather, rinse, repeat. My body was beginning to rebel, and soon, it would reject the needles and get ornery. My veins either collapse into my muscle like they have a freight elevator, or they do a barrel roll like alligators taught them how to get a death grip. I know my body well, and I was reaching the end of my tether.
By Meredith Harmon2 months ago in Fiction
Lost in the Grass. Honorable Mention in You Had to Be There.
The old, red barn behind the house was where we went to pretend we had a life of our own. Our parents had flown off somewhere far away, we assured ourselves. So we retreated to the cobwebs and the smell of damp wood.
By Thomas Speer2 months ago in Fiction
Ceiling Fans & Such
Alan just looked at the suitcase and smiled. He knew this was vacation week and we were all headed to Lake George. We all piled into the car for the three hour ride that we made every year at this time, looking forward to a week of sun, laughter, shopping and family. Several years earlier, I had taken over the driving. Alan’s memory, at this time, was beginning to slip. He had been diagnosed with Early Parkinsons at 49, but was still mobile at 53. The dementia was diagnosed at 52 and those signs were more clear. He would get lost easily and confused even easier.
By Barbara Gode Wiles2 months ago in Fiction
Ceiling Fans and Such. Winner in You Had to Be There.
Alan just looked at the suitcase and smiled. He knew this was vacation week and we were all headed to Lake George. We all piled into the car for the three hour ride that we made every year at this time, looking forward to a week of sun, laughter, shopping and family. Several years earlier, I had taken over the driving. Alan’s memory, at this time, was beginning to slip. He had been diagnosed with Early Parkinsons at 49, but was still mobile at 53. The dementia was diagnosed at 52 and those signs were more clear. He would get lost easily and confused even easier.
By Barbara Gode Wiles2 months ago in Fiction
Anchored in the Fluorescent Hum . Top Story - July 2026.
They talk amongst themselves, and when a touch of mood crosses their faces, their whole bodies wake up like bumblebees, restless, reactive, always shifting. They were all sipping from clear plastic cups, with bags by their feet. The staff who knew each other discussed the new Starbucks menu. The others said oi, which softened the room. But not her, behind her thin‑rimmed glasses. I knew her, but not really; stillness holds her together. She is the kind of person whose warmth stays exactly where it is, steady and unmoving, as distant as the wall and as near as the humming fluorescent lights. I notice her the way I notice the unchanged grain of the carpet, the quiet things that stay where they are. She is the only one anchored in her black formal wear, tapping her index finger, not her thumb, against the screen of her phone.
By Caitlin Charlton2 months ago in Fiction
The CEO in Plaid Pyjamas. Winner in You Had to Be There.
I was eleven years old at the time, but it might as well been just yesterday. I'd almost fallen asleep when I heard my door open. The light from the hall spilled onto my floor in a narrow stripe. The door ajar, someone tiptoed to my bed and knelt beside me.
By Cristal S.2 months ago in Fiction
Peaches
Rain pattered against the wide window that made up the front of the kitchen, casting light and warmth over the sink and table on any other day. Now it stood as a dark mirror in a poorly lit kitchen that once catered an entire family, sons and husbands, wives and daughters, a slew of children that would run about before a holiday dinner with their toys or chased that old gray dog around that once resided here. Now it sat empty, but for a single soul, wrapped in an ebony dress, standing on swollen ankles shoved into a pair of heels that had not been worn in decades.
By Brier2 months ago in Fiction
Tears of God
Heavy drops spattered down on dry land, picking up bits of dirt and sand, growing into globs of mud as thunder cracked overhead. The wind came next, brushing the ash off burn piles and the dry leaves of last year out into the decrepit fields that were meant to feed the families that huddled around the small meals, cooked on quick dry fires in the homes that littered the land. Relentlessly it came down, enough to snuff out fireplaces and flood the banks, while the wind tore away at roofs and shook every board of every home.
By Brier2 months ago in Fiction
Tuesdays
By ten, Marsha had made three piles on the dining room table. One to keep, one they would donate, and one for trash. Stacie had ignored all three.
By Fatal Serendipity2 months ago in Fiction
Embracing Fawn's Rest
Fawn’s Rest always smelled like cedar after rain—like the town had been washed clean and decided to keep the softness. Victor noticed it most in the mornings, when the mist still clung to the evergreens and the road out front looked like it might dissolve into fog. Their old boarding house sat on the outskirts, half wrapped in history and half wrapped in modern updates, like it couldn’t quite decide which century it belonged to. Wide porch. Tall windows. Original woodwork that creaked underfoot in a way that felt almost affectionate. Inside, clean lines and warm light tried to pretend the walls hadn’t heard a hundred years of strangers’ stories.
By Kristina Zill2 months ago in Fiction
Berganashio - Chapter 35
To read the preceding chapter to this story, follow this link below: https://vocal.media/fiction/berganashio-chapter-34 Keenwai was amazed at the speed of which Finy wildly tore through the woods. He and Kunya pursued the deranged, skeletal meerbird.
By Rowan Finley 2 months ago in Fiction
The Other Woman's Club
‘I’m guessing you’ve heard about Louisa Barrett.’ Jane gave Annie a knowing look as she wheeled her shopping trolley alongside hers.
By Matthew Batham2 months ago in Fiction