family

Anbadlo
“Look, Grandma! I found one!” “Show me, my dahling.” The little boy picked up the piece of drift wood and ran to present it to his grandmother who was lounging on a deckchair she had anchored in the sand.
By Lily Séjor2 years ago in Fiction
A Fallen Acorn
There is an old but wise saying about the distance an acorn can fall from the mighty oak that dropped it. The truth is that oak trees don’t drop their acorns. They do not really fall. They are placed on the ground. The spot where it lands is picked in advance. It is a well-known fact that there are those who will carry the acorn to new places. For the most part, it is a nearby location, chosen by the Oak to honor the family line. Some, however, for more nefarious reasons, will take the acorn to far-off places, bringing harm to everything the Oak stands for. Everybody knows the extent a parent will go to protect their children. This is a story about exactly that.
By David E. Perry2 years ago in Fiction
Sighs
She could not have been any better, more thoughtful, more helpful, prettier, smarter; she was bound in thoughts of disappointed sighs, disregarded achievements, broken in shreds of compromise, lonely in her discontent. It would never be enough, that is, to just be herself. She would not be rewarded with smiles, praise or unconditional love; she would know the bareness of love over and over again. Yet she kept wanting the comfort of the womb, the strong arms, the reassurance in their voices, the "it's okays", and the "of course you cans!"
By ROCK aka Andrea Polla (Simmons)2 years ago in Fiction
Stole Your Heart
Life Walking down the street, hands in my pockets, the feeling of the soft leather wallet I stole made me wonder what it felt like to be rich, to not have a worry in the world.
By Gia2 years ago in Fiction
Zuni’s Occupied Mind Made The Shirt Disappear
Zuni loved to watch reels and play video games. The mobile had surrounded all the cells of her mind. Conditions were so bad that if something was lost, it was almost impossible to find, even if it was lying in front. She had to call Mom to find out. The shirt she was supposed to wear to her school function was not hanging in the closet. She was very upset but her mother was not at home so she had to wear another dress and go. The next day, on Zuni’s complaint, Mummy checked the closet, shirt was hanging there.
By Ainy Abraham2 years ago in Fiction
George Paid for His Lie
George and Sheena’s mother advised them many times to take care of each other like good siblings. She warned them not to lie even in jest to avoid confusion and misunderstandings.
By Ainy Abraham2 years ago in Fiction
Legacy Of The Hand Fan
In the core of a clamoring city, in the midst of the racket of day to day existence, there existed a curious minimal secondhand store shop. Concealed in a thin rear entryway, it was not entirely obvious except if one focused on the little, endured sign that read, "Interests and Collectibles."
By zulfi bux2 years ago in Fiction
Runaway
The silence is deafening. Dustin strains to hear if the old man is still breathing, but stays as far from the stinking, slumped form as possible in the dilapidated one-room shack. At last a ragged inhale, rasping and gasping, gives Dustin the courage to drag his beaten body towards the door. The belt lays on the floor where the old man dropped it. Dustin knows he has to leave. This is no way to live and his mother’s death months earlier makes him realize things are never going to get better. He pulls himself upright, inspecting the damage – bleeding gash across his wiry chest, bruises the color of stinky cheese emerging, his head pounding with the hateful words and Jim Beam bottle hurled at him moments before his stepfather passed out. He needs to make some distance before the old drunk comes to.
By Cathy Schieffelin2 years ago in Fiction
Ghosted. Top Story - April 2024.
Her house was once a rustic retreat: Grammy’s ancient Afghan draped over the cracked, leather chair next to the wood burning fireplace. Sun-faded yellow gingham curtains in the kitchen danced in the afternoon breeze. She kept the windows open year-round, demanding to breathe in only fresh air. I spent many afternoons curled up with Aunt Bette, watching raunchy movies and drinking good tequila. That was her poison. She hasn’t been gone six months, but I still feel her in the weathered boards of the sagging front porch. I sit on the rough-hewn stairs, avoiding the papaya-colored porch swing. Can’t sit there. It’s not meant for one. Without a hint of a breeze, the swing slowly comes to life.
By Cathy Schieffelin2 years ago in Fiction
Family Adrift
We had a sailboat, an old Surfwind - like a Sunfish, only bigger, with blue and white sails. We didn’t sail in Cleveland but hauled that boat to Michigan every summer where we kept a cottage on Glen Lake. It was idyllic. Dad loved to sail. He’d disappear onto the water for hours. We’d go with him sometimes, but I think he preferred the solitude. It was his time to be alone and think and put the pieces of his life in perspective.
By Cathy Schieffelin2 years ago in Fiction
Fallen From Grace
In and out. In and out. Ray repeated those words in his head as he looked upon the large, brick house that stood in front of him. The man ran a hand through his short, unkempt hair and took a deep breath. All he had to do was go in, give them the presents, and get out. Simple, right? No need for this to be a big deal.
By SonShaSil012 years ago in Fiction
The Magical Journey of Luna and the Enchanted Forest
Once upon a time, in a quaint village nestled by the edge of a vast forest, there lived a young girl named Luna. With her wild curls and curious eyes, Luna had a heart full of dreams and a spirit brimming with adventure. She often spent her days exploring the woods, imagining the wonders that lay beyond the trees.
By hawk12 years ago in Fiction