family
Sello . Top Story - September 2023.
On the 13th of August, when everything seemed normal, my sister placed a pregnancy test in front of me. We were going back and forth, the truth refusing to ever leave my mouth and when it finally happened - when it was finally revealed, my world changed forever.
By Ofentse🌸3 years ago in Fiction
"Brushstrokes of Love: Laura and Landon's Forbidden Romance"
Once upon a time in the quaint town of Willowbrook, lived a young woman named Laura. She had eyes as blue as the sky and a heart as free as a bird. Laura had a secret, a love that was forbidden by her strict parents. His name was Landon, a rugged artist with a soul as deep as the ocean. Laura and Landon's paths crossed one summer day at the town's annual art fair. Landon's mesmerizing paintings caught Laura's attention, and their eyes met across the crowded tent. Sparks flew instantly, but their love story was far from simple. Laura's parents were known for their traditional values and strict rules. They had plans for her to marry a wealthy suitor, a man of their choosing. Love was not a factor in their decision; it was all about status and wealth. Laura knew that introducing Landon to her parents would be a battle she wasn't sure she was ready to fight. Despite the odds stacked against them, Laura and Landon found ways to steal moments together. They would meet by the old willow tree in the park, hidden from judgmental eyes. Their love blossomed like wildflowers in a meadow, beautiful and untamed. As the seasons changed, Laura and Landon's love grew stronger. They shared dreams, secrets, and promises of a future together. But the weight of Laura's parents' expectations loomed over them like a dark cloud. One day, as the leaves turned golden and the air grew crisp, Laura decided it was time to confront her parents. With Landon by her side, she faced the storm that had been brewing for months. Her parents' initial reaction was as fierce as she had feared, with raised voices and disapproving glares. But Laura stood her ground, her love for Landon giving her strength. Landon, too, refused to be the reason for Laura's family strife. He decided to prove his worth, not through wealth, but through his dedication and love for Laura. He poured his heart onto canvas, creating a masterpiece that depicted their love story—the stolen glances, the secret meetings, and the unspoken emotions. With the painting in hand, he faced Laura's parents, his vulnerability clear in his eyes. As her parents gazed at the painting, their stern expressions softened. They saw the truth in Landon's art, the sincerity of his intentions. Perhaps, for the first time, they realized that love couldn't be confined within societal boundaries. Over time, Laura's parents began to see Landon for who he truly was—a kind-hearted and passionate man who loved their daughter dearly. The rigid walls they had built around their hearts started to crumble, replaced by understanding and compassion. In the end, it was not a grand gesture or a dramatic confrontation that won Laura and Landon their love. It was the power of art, of vulnerability, and of unwavering commitment that brought their families together. Love had conquered the barriers of tradition and expectation, proving that sometimes, the heart knows better than the mind. And so, in the midst of the falling snowflakes, Laura and Landon stood hand in hand, their love story like a fairy tale come true. The willow tree, once a symbol of their secret love, now stood as a testament to their strength and perseverance. As the years went by, Laura and Landon's love story became a legend in Willowbrook—a tale of two hearts that dared to defy the odds and find their happily ever after. And every time someone passed by the old willow tree, they couldn't help but smile, knowing that love, in all its forms, could conquer even the strictest of barriers.
By Mood Rescue 3 years ago in Fiction
Coming Home, Chapter 1
*** “The two most important days in your life are the day you are born and the day you find out why.” Mark Twain *** “I might be crazy, but I may also be on the verge of something wonderful.” Silas Pennington shook his head, swallowed back a bubble of joy, and told himself, “Come on, Silas. Be brave. You’re the second-born son of Thomas and Marietta Pennington. I know they love me, but I also knew there will be no estate for me.” He grinned and nodded. “Thank heavens there will no estate for me. I don’t want the bother and burden. What I want is an adventure. Uncle Jacob has given me the chance for exactly that.”
By Glenda Clemens3 years ago in Fiction
Pains
Kathrine: I'm An Orphan But I Won't Do It ~ Episode 1 I was 19 years old when my Mom was diagnosed with stage IV brĂ©Ă st cà ñcer, and my Uncle wouldn't assist us financially unless I slĂ©pt with him. The dóçtors wouldn't trĂ©Ă t my Mom either unless we made a deposit of 3 million naira. I told my Mom about it, and she forbade me from sleepiing with my Uncle. She preferred to diie, but I couldn't let her go because my dad was late, and she's all I've got left in this lĂłnely world. If she diied, I'd sĂşffĂ©r lóñeliness for the rĂ©st of my lĂfe and might not live past 20 years because I'd have no one to run to or comfĂłrt me, and I might result to commiiting suiiciide. More dĂ©vĂ statĂĂñg was the fact that my uncle was HIV-pĂłsĂtĂvĂ©. This has hindered and delayed him from getting married. Despite this, he still insisted that I must have an affĂ ĂĂr with him, or watch my Mom diie of brĂ©Ă st cà ñcer. I ran from pillar to post, looking for money. 10% said they don't have it, and 90% said they do, but I must give my bĂłdy in exchange for the money. I've been working as a cleaner at a local hotel, where I get paid 30,000 naira. It is from this money that my Mom and I would eat, buy clothes, and pay bills. I had to trek a long distance to work seven times a week, just so that the 30,000 naira would be enough to take care of me and my Mum. I don't celebrate festive periods like Christmas and New Year, not because I didn't want to, but because I only had 5 gowns, 2 skirts, 2 blouses, and my working attire in the hĂłtĂ©l where I worked. I met our manager and pleaded that he speak with the boss if he could assist me. I got the same response: that if only I agreed to slĂ©Ă©Ă©p with him, he'd give me the money. I felt bĂ Ă d and said, 'No!' I went back to my Mom and told her that all the people I met who had the money to give me requested my bĂłdy in return. She said, "It's okay, Katherine. You're my angel, and I can never trĂ dĂ© you for móñey. Let me go in peace; I've lived long enough. Do not save me with the gift of thy youth." "Save it for that man who deserves it tomorrow. You're all I've got, and I cannot sĂ©ll your dĂgñity to buy more time on earth. I'm already 55, and I've lived long enough." "Let me go, and go make meaning of your life. I believe in you. Be strong, Katherine. Go into the world and make Mama proud." She kept talking and smiling as warm tears rolled down her cheeks in slow motion and soaked the pillow. She held my hands, and I could feel the fĂ©Ă r, pĂ Ăñ, and Ă g0ñy in her trĂ©mblĂng grip as she said, "I love you' and pĂ ssĂ©d away." I thought she had fallen asleep. I refused to believe she was góñé. I said, "Mommy, Mommy, please don't go. Come back, please don't go. I need you to come back." "Mommy, wĂ kĂ© up! I dóñ't want you to go. Please wĂ kĂ© Ăşp. I feel so lóñely. Mommy, plĂ©Ă se wĂ kĂ© up, talk to me, Mommy." I sçrĂ©Ă mĂ©d, scrĂ©Ă mĂ©d, and sçrĂ©Ă mĂ©d; "Nooooooo!'" To be continued ✍️
By Samuel patience3 years ago in Fiction
Mythological memories of my father
I was talked to, so I began to talk, and I was read to, so I began to read. Infinite cycles of sleeping and waking, that eventually coalesced into day and night, months and seasons. Feeding and growing, playing with family and friendly beasts: M-O-M and D-A-D, C-A-T-S and D-O-G-S. Our home was protected by the sign of the bear, and there lived Father, Mother, and Baby bear. My first book was "Little Tiger Goes To Bed,” and Father read the story to me until I fell asleep. I had many stuffed beasts to cuddle and hold, like lions tigers, and bears. Oh, my favorite was the snow leopard, though. I celebrated the changing seasons, and played happily on the grass, or in the snow, with the great hounds who guarded our hearth. Winters were warmed by a roaring fire, with a plentiful pantry stocked for the long winter: a fortress of canned goods, bottled summer peaches, Freyja’s homemade apple pie, powdered hot chocolate, smoked-ham, and all kinds of dried foodstuffs. Long hours spent lying in a heap with the giant friendly dogs and cats on the warm rug in front of the radiant, flaming pine logs. When the storms were bad, it was sometimes quite a long time before the roads were clear again, and the wind would howl in the gables like Fenriswulf. But winter always gave way eventually to spring and summer. The woodlands, creeks, and fields became my vast kindergarten under the watchful eyes of EarthMother and Skygods. The Kami-- the spiritual forces dwelling in great trees, and stones, and mountains-- sent their vibes out across the meadow-plains and river valleys. I knew that giants and dragons lay buried under the mountains, but they had gone to sleep long ago.
By Halston Williams3 years ago in Fiction
Lily the adorable cat
The Adorable Lily In a curious house on the edges of an enchanting town, carried on with a feline named Lily. With fur as delicate as a cloud and eyes that shined like valuable jewels, Lily was a genuine exemplification of charm. Her sweet nature and delicate disposition made her a dearest individual from the local area.
By ALICE WAMBETI3 years ago in Fiction
Unmasking the Joker
In the pantheon of fictional villains, one character stands out as an enigma wrapped in a riddle, lurking in the shadows of Gotham City. The Joker, the Clown Prince of Crime, has fascinated audiences for decades with his unpredictable behavior, sadistic humor, and mysterious origins. Over the years, a myriad of theories and interpretations have emerged to shed light on this iconic character's past, motivations, and the very essence of his being.
By KEN RIVERA3 years ago in Fiction
