family
Alight
“After the mother lays the egg, the father balances it on top of his feet for a full two months, using a pouch on his lower belly to keep it warm. They can’t even leave the egg to eat. In the meantime, the mother goes off to hunt for fish, sometimes traveling up to 50 miles away.”
By Aleta Davis2 years ago in Fiction
Selectively Seen
Maggie sits in class, tapping her pencil absent-mindedly. It’s indoor recess today, and the whole class voted to play Hangman. Maggie has learned to hate Hangman, and the class hates when she plays, too. Maggie has a mind for language, and the other kids hate how fast she can solve their word and how impossible hers are to guess. Her particular finesse for Hangman is due to her passion for words and advanced reading ability. It also doesn’t help that she’s spent most every Monday night of her 11 years watching “Wheel of Fortune” with her Grandma Lynn. Instead of protesting at the suggestion, Maggie decides some rest and staring into space would do her good. Her mind hasn’t had enough time to ruminate and imagine. Also, she starts sweating at the thought of conflict. She pulls her hood over her head and rests her head on her desk. But as it turns out, ruminating and imagining isn’t really what her mind wants to do; it prefers sleep in this moment.
By M. Therese Wittenauer2 years ago in Fiction
The Cherry Tree, The Owl & Me
Today is a very sad day because today we said our goodbyes, as I took my last breath, I could see you both outside waiting for me. So, let me back up a bit and tell you how the start of this story goes. A story of a young girl and a cherry tree. I was about eleven or twelve years old when one day I was at the local nursery with my mother looking for some rose bushes. My mother loved rose bushes and had lots of them planted all over our property. We lived just about a mile out of town in a three-bedroom house that sat on ten acres. The road we lived on mostly had wheat fields not very many neighbors they were few and far between. My mother was a petite lady and at that time she was in her early thirties, and always on the go. She wore her hair up in a bun daily and was a very pretty lady that didn’t take crap from anyone. I was so much different, I was quiet, wasn’t outspoken and was nowhere at all tiny or petite.
By Diana Coor2 years ago in Fiction
Mischievous Patent and The Wise Antonio
It was a cloudy and great day; It’s been a while I haven't felt this kind of excitement. I feel butterflies in my stomach. It’s been months I am waiting and waiting and waiting for a miracle that someone will show up at the door for me. I just heard from my caretaker, Brandi that there is this couple that will be seeing me today. “I hope this is it! This is my day!” I keep on mumbling and praying while walking back and forth as I am so nervous but excited at the same time.
By Aubrey Nichole Medeiros 2 years ago in Fiction
Helping hand
To say that this has been a very long day, it would mean to tell just a tiny part of the whole story about it. Long hours? It was more like a continuous stream of time interconnecting all of the events that lead me to that particular moment where I was immersed right now. Tired and confused, I was trying to get to the end of it and probably would be able to finally go to bed. It truly was not that late, but my mind was already counting backward in an attempt to force me to leave the work as it was. What could go wrong, after all? They would be loving or hating the idea, but at least it would give them something to think about for the rest of the semester. And that was precisely my sole intention. None of the previous attempts went well with the Director, although I knew that she was not going to be mad at me for trying one more time, or at least not strongly mad. I mean, she was always calling me a rebel anyway, wasn't she? This was more of a situation where I was not sure if I would like to risk it or not.
By Alex Torres2 years ago in Fiction
The Barn Owl
They had just settled in for the evening thank goodness - frightening was not even a word for how I suffered. I had been in here too long, but... There was no alternative way for me to exist; I was thankful to finally be in peace and alone. These children, these humans, oh God my life was going to be hell.
By Sheri Le Fleming Burrow2 years ago in Fiction