family
Crenvy
“Hon, we have to get some dinner. I’m starving!” “Fine, Mom, after this episode. There’s only five minutes left.” Grace has to turn off the television to stop her daughter from starting another episode of her favorite cartoon featuring those adolescent mutant reptiles. She lures the girl into the car with the promise that she can pick the restaurant.
By Leslie Writes3 years ago in Fiction
Whispers of the Heart
In the bustling city of Chennai, where life moved at a frenetic pace, there lived two souls, each lost in the chaos of the world, until fate intertwined their destinies in a captivating love story. Vijay, a hardworking software engineer with dreams as vast as the digital universe, and Dhanalakshmi, a vibrant and artistic soul who saw beauty in every corner of life, found in each other a love that was both profound and life-changing.
By Nithya shree 3 years ago in Fiction
Meaniac
To an outsider, especially one without a big, loud and proud family, visiting the Lombardi household for Sunday dinner must have been a strange experience. The children were allowed to, almost encouraged to run riot around the place. They would run around their Nonna's home and treat it like their own assualt course. Jumping over and onto couches, rolling and crawling under tables and sneaking up on unsuspecting family members to attack-cuddle and scare them. Really, they were doing anything they could to be little menaces, without actually hurting anyone or damaging anything deliberately.
By Paul Stewart3 years ago in Fiction
From Tragedy to Triumph: Netflix’s Latest Documentaries
The truth hurts. But sometimes it’s inspirational, scary, sad, funny, or anywhere in between. Experience it all with our best documentary series and movies. (This line is a copy from Netflix's official page. I copied it because I think this line defined my story perfectly.)
By Anju Jagarwal3 years ago in Fiction
The Elysium Garden
This is the most marvelous place ever... Generous rays of sunshine reflect off the cascading waterfall, glinting like effervescent diamonds falling into a pool of fresh water. Bountiful Viceroys embrace their freedom with a joyous display of waltzing acrobatics. I watch Strange looking fish surface the large, clear pond, purposely blowing bubbles that emerge and float up toward the clear sky until playful blue birds burst them; an envious game they play.
By Lamar Wiggins3 years ago in Fiction
Bedside Vigil
Beep…beep…blip blip…beep…beep. The machine monitoring Sharon's vitals cuts through the heavy silence of the room. Louise sits by the side of her daughter, watching her chest struggle to rise and fall. She has been here before, sitting at the bedside of one she loves, waiting. First her father-in-law, then each of her parents took their turns moving into her home where she cared for them day and night until they passed. Then her husband, she laughs bitterly to herself at the memory of the damn pizza delivery he kept ordering every time she left his bedside. Perhaps at that point it was already too late for his fatty liver, but she still wonders if she would have had a few more weeks with her love without that damn pizza. It was excruciating watching him bloat uncomfortably and turn that sickly shade of gray, his mind slowly getting twisted around and confused as the toxins built up in his bloodstream. She never expected to live through that again but only a decade later, as her oldest son's liver succumbed to years of drug abuse, she sat lovingly at his bedside. She watched him bloat, turn gray, and lose his mind before finally passing away.
By A. J. Schoenfeld3 years ago in Fiction
No Words Left
Staring into the fire, I give up pretending I’m reading and close the book in my lap. I set it on the coffee table and run my hands over my face. He is three hours late. Flopping backward on the couch, I slide like a dead fish to the floor, causing my legs to coil oddly beneath me. My boot treads catch on the bear skin rug. Running my hands through the fur, I pretend it's his hair and sharply pull. A few strands stick to my clammy fingers. It doesn’t ease my mood.
By Sarah DuPerron3 years ago in Fiction
Resting His Eyes
I hate hospitals. Much like the police, if you have to be around one there’s a good chance something went wrong with your day. The muffled sound of forced quiet, the sharp pang of antiseptic to the nose, the incessant beeping of monitors and machines and nurse station call buttons. The drone of chatter among the staff that skids to a halt once you walk into their vicinity.
By Clinton A. Harris3 years ago in Fiction
