family
New folktale about myself
One morning when cleaning the floors, I discover a hole in the wood that looks like a fingermark in cake icing. I re-cover it with the rug and resolve to sand it down, but the hole has expanded and deepened a few days later. It's now possible for me to run two fingers through it. It's also soft around the edges and damp to the touch. I feel like I'm invading on something while I'm hunched over it on my knees, the embarrassment of seeing an animal give birth, so I cover it up again, ignore it for days, even deflect my gaze.
A child's protector
It was the simplest of gestures. River still remembers the day vividly. Their father had just returned from a trip to Hawaii. His company was building a resort and he had been sent out to evaluate construction. Four year old River had begged and begged for their father to bring them with, but he said no. Instead, he promised to bring back souvenirs from the trip. He had delivered, bringing river back shirts, toys, and other little gifts. The one that stuck with River was a little wooden statue of a shark.
Avoidance
Shock. That was all Sam was able to feel. Her emotions always overwhelmed her, but this was too much. This was not something she could deal with, probably ever. So, she did the only thing that she could think to do, the only thing that ever made her feel better over the past few months. She stood up, walked outside, and started to run.
A spot with a view.
It would be hard to overstate the tranquility of the place before him. With his legs stretched out far, his feet rested in the middle of the horizon, connecting the pristine lake to the base of the mountains that twisted and turned into the clouds, further than his eyes could see. The tree at his back provided much needed shade to him and the frogs resting by the lily pads where the base of his hill met the lake.
Matthew PuzyckiPublished 3 years ago in FictionEven When I Forget
Rhea didn’t think anything of the brown paper box sitting on the ground next to Dad’s arm chair when she visited him for dinner the day before graduation. It was one of those few times the whole family was back together outside of the holidays. Rhea’s brothers flew in from out of town - Gareth with Janet on his arm, the new ring sparkling bright on her finger couldn’t match her smile, and Jace’s lady came with a tiny little hanger-on. Her nephew – Rhea couldn’t believe she was an aunt already! – was so soft and fragile she was afraid she’d break him if she held him. Still, it wasn’t a moment she’d give up for the world, and having them all out there, watching her finally cross that stage, filled Rhea with a sense of pride.
Kassandra CherryPublished 3 years ago in FictionUnknown Conviction
“Let’s get going. We will be late for the show,” William said. “I have to return something first,” Emma said. “What is it?”
Freya MarthersPublished 3 years ago in FictionWrapped Tightly And Hidden
What were you thinking, Mom? You had to have thought I would have had access to your closet, and so much more. If you wanted to continue to keep that part of your life a secret, why didn’t you just tear up and dispose of the contents of the brown paper package. You even re-tied the string that had kept it all a mystery for these last two decades. You must have realized that at the end of your beautiful life, I would be the keeper of the things that represented your full and vibrant existence.
DeEtta MillerPublished 3 years ago in FictionThe Tiny Little Megalodon
Have you ever had a perfect idea that turned out to be not quite as perfect as you imagined? An idea that is put together with time and care. An idea that is revealed all too quickly to be, well....messy.
Bree BeadmanPublished 3 years ago in FictionTHE OLD JOURNAL
A long time ago, my grandparents went to Mexico for their honeymoon. Grandpa was the only child, he grew up to be a tall man, with a lot of knowledge, his profession was accounting. Grandma, on the other side was the last of five children, and the only girl. She was raised like a princess with a lot of men in a farming house. She grew up to be a housewife like many other women at that period.
Sandra E RiveraPublished 3 years ago in FictionNo one ever tells you
Photo by Rudy and Peter Skitterians Everyone will tell you the same 6 words. “I am sorry for your loss.” When you meet their eyes, you will see their hesitance to meet yours, hurriedly expressing how “sorry” they are for their sense of consolation and then proceeding to the table in the back with the stale pastries you bought over 2 weeks ago. No one will notice and even if they do, they will not dare attempt to comment due to your state of grieving and a rather impertinent look on your face. You get a pass this once.
Memories in the Garden
The year we moved into the big house on Arbor Lane was the year Momma got the fever. The doctor called it Hay Fever, but we didn’t know what that was. All we could tell was that Momma had to lay down with a cool towel on her face anytime she’d been out near the garden.
Pam Sievert-RussomannoPublished 3 years ago in FictionA Box of Love
It was a brilliant day out. The sun was shining and the air was perfect. The breeze wafted gently across the scurrying people, and gently cooled the body. We had been having a heat wave, and the air had been heavy, today was the first day in weeks that it felt just right. I had decided it was the perfect time to go for a walk in the park.
Carrie GreenPublished 3 years ago in Fiction