family

Quirkasaurus
"OMG, Grandpa, don't be such a Quirkasaurus!" Emmet Swann didn't stop dancing, even as his grandchildren tried to pretend not to know him. There was a fine-looking dame, a grandmother or great aunt giving the parents a respite, smiling in his direction, and it put him in mind of the dance halls of his youth.
By Natasja Rose3 years ago in Fiction
Voluntold
"Oh, by the way, you volunteered to cater for Talia's school bake sale this weekend." Maria, in the middle of a valiant battle against ten classes worth of Final Essays and a list of who needed extra credit work to graduate, looked up long enough to raise an eyebrow. "I don't recall doing anything of the sort."
By Natasja Rose3 years ago in Fiction
Misneoverbum
Lights flashed in the night as Cathy and Alison sat drinking their Red Bulls and eating their mid-crawl snacks. “Look, look,” Alison slurred to Cathy, “ you see her?”
By Atomic Historian3 years ago in Fiction
Royal Ends
I watched the sweat dribble from my father's pale forehead. His whole body trembled with the fear of leaving us, but our presence assured him that it was time.
By Ruby Red3 years ago in Fiction
Reviving Earth: The Journey to Save Our Planet
In the year 2137, Earth stood at the precipice of an environmental catastrophe. The relentless march of climate change had reached a critical juncture, and the planet's resources were dwindling at an alarming rate. Humanity found itself teetering on the brink of a bleak and uncertain future. It was in the midst of this dire situation that Dr. Ava Reynolds, a brilliant and passionate scientist, made a groundbreaking discovery that had the potential to alter the course of history.
By Dani Charaf3 years ago in Fiction
WHY DO WE DREAM?
In the ancient civilizations of Mesopotamia and Egypt, dreams were regarded with great significance, often recorded and interpreted for their hidden meanings. Millennia later, our quest to decipher the enigmatic world of dreams continues, fueled by scientific research and technological advancements. While we have made significant strides in understanding the nature of dreams, there remain intriguing theories that shed light on their profound purpose.
By React Wizards3 years ago in Fiction
The Enchanted Forest
Deep within the heart of the enchanted forest, where sunlight struggled to pierce the dense canopy of ancient trees and the air was thick with the scent of moss and magic, there lived two siblings, Lily and Jack. The forest, hidden away from the prying eyes of the modern world, held secrets that had been whispered among its towering oaks for centuries. It was a place where myths and legends came to life, where animals spoke in riddles, and where the trees themselves held secrets untold.
By Weboy 3 years ago in Fiction
Belisten
Stop talking, she had said to me while swirling anxiously in circles on her black, leather computer chair. It was covered with a faux fur blanket which she had received as a gift one Christmas; it was something familiar and safe. Her vulnerability was obvious; her all too familiar ways were especially reflective in her warm, brown, almond shaped eyes which barely met mine. She skirted around our conversation. What do you want me to say? I didn't respond with words, yet my mother heart was on high alert, absorbing each syllable as she mumbled, noting her agitated movements, listening with a racing pulse to her words while my unbridled flashbacks of her childhood giggles stabbed through my well-trodden heart. You never listen! I am listening; I feel I am poised, attentive and my dear, cherished, only child how I wish you could feel the love I have for you, a love which will never die. Mom! I sit more attentively. What the hell am I doing wrong here? My eyes are right on her, my mouth is shut, my body language is relaxed, (or is it?) and I am here, ready for whatever she has to say. Nervous, yes. Ill prepared for parenting a struggling adult entirely? Maybe. What can I do but take in her words, let them tumble around as if in the clothes dryer until they settle. Help me out here someone! I am lost as a Mom. Lost. Oh God. She stops swirling about and looks at me as if I can't possibly relate. I hate my life. What do you hate about your life? I try to verbalize my reply, to sound like a friend, a bit casual yet I resent my repressed tone. I am not loved for who I am; I am transgender, and Pappa walked out of my life! Are you daft Mom? You of all people should know how much it hurts to be alive, to be me, to not be wanted! I clear my throat, stand, and wrap my arms around her. I don't speak. I hold her face in my hands and look into her eyes with pure love. My pain is hers. I take her hands and lift them into the air with mine. For one moment we are one; I am familiar with listening to her emotions as they burst from her soul. I hear her sorrow, her plight, and in all my imperfections, I remain steady. Without quivering I select some words but stumble and don't say them. I am thinking, "always as far as time can take us, I am with you." Mom! What have I done now? Can we talk about something else? I let go of her, sit down, and pretend to look at a menu for Thai take-away laying on the coffee table. A few minutes slowly tick by; I look up as she wipes away a tear. I love you, Mom. Handing her the menu she quickly tosses it back. I want pizza; I hate Thai food. You of all people should know that. I do know this. I know so much about my beautiful, hurting loved one, yet I also know nothing at all. Can my love save her? I order pizza. I ask what she wants and she rolls her eyes and turns her back toward me. She has asked for the same pizza for twenty years. I order one large pizza with cheese. Just cheese. She swirls around to face me and blurts out, With olives! Surprised, I add them to the order. I don't know as much as I want about her. Olives? She never eats olives. I am sobbing inside wanting to soak up all her self loathing, stitch her wounds; I'd give anything to see her laugh or smile again. I want her to be happy. Mom? You're just staring at me like a zombie. Can you go now? Of course. I have filled her needs for this particular wave of melancholy. I stand again and kiss her cheek. Leaving her is always hard. Leaving her alone with all of her thoughts stings as I push through a smile. Talk tomorrow? I ask. I am twenty-six, not six Mom. Emphasizing the twenty she sighs and stands. She gives me a hug of reassurance, an unspoken contract that she won't harm herself. Enjoy your pizza. Opening her door for me she ushers me out. Thanks and goodbye, Mom.
By ROCK aka Andrea Polla (Simmons)3 years ago in Fiction
Oliver's Honesty
Once upon a time in a small village called Brookside, there was an exceptional 8-year-old boy named Oliver. He was known for always telling the truth, and he had a unique way of showing honesty in a hundred different ways. This made him stand out from others, and his life was full of adventures, including one extraordinary event.
By Eyaquit Zaman Imran3 years ago in Fiction
REINCARNATION
Rebirth: An Excursion Through Time and Cognizance In the terrific embroidery of human conviction frameworks, there exists a string woven with the narratives of daily routines experienced previously, of spirits renewed through the ages - resurrection. This old and confounding idea has intrigued and confused ages, offering a brief look into the chance of life past our natural presence. In this investigation, we set out on a charming excursion to find what resurrection is, the reason it exists, where it works out, and whether there is any proof to help these deep rooted claims.
By Kyrol Mojikal3 years ago in Fiction
Glump
"Mom!" the teenager, in the kitchen, yells to her mother, in the living room, pinching their nose shut. "What?!" "What the hell is that smell?! Oh my god!"
By Hillery D. Keefer3 years ago in Fiction
Absenteaminded
*BEEP* *BEEP* *BEEP* The microwave loudly announced it was finished with its signature repetitive shrieking. “Oh crap, not again,” she mumbled, hurrying to silence the machine. Yanking the door open wide, she reached in with soapy hands towards the now-steaming mug sat in the centre of the turntable.
By Maddy Haywood3 years ago in Fiction