family
There Goes the Neighbourhood
Great Grandpa Edward’s ninetieth birthday party was meant to be a celebration, but it quickly became a crime scene. This would have come as more of a shock to the neighbourhood if it had not been for the Hargroves’ reputation for drama. There were often screaming matches between the eldest siblings in the family, and more than once law enforcement had been called to a Hargrove barbeque. This would have been less frustrating for the neighbours if it were not for the fact that the family had weekly Sunday barbeques.
Mackenzie DickesonPublished 3 years ago in FictionThe Birthday That Wouldn't Be Forgotten
Every year as a child Ida’s mother would make her famous chocolate cake for both of Ida’s sisters, but when her birthday came, all that she got was a rice cake with more of a chocolate scent than a flavor, and the same lecture as the year before.
Stevi VaughnPublished 3 years ago in FictionThank You
It was meant as a way to say thank you. I mean, at least that’s how it started. Well, that’s how I like to believe I meant for it to start. Why couldn’t I have just said, “Thank you, Matilda?” I guess I could have. And, I guess I know why I didn't.
One Bite, Two Bites, Three Bites, Floor
Finally, I was free. I looked around my new apartment as the movers brought my stuff in. Filled with excitement, I jumped up and down, as any 18-year-old would, when moving out of their parents’ house for the first time.
DarkRandallPublished 3 years ago in FictionLove Peace and Chocolate
Love is a funny thing. It makes you do things you'd never do. Ignore things you'd never ignore. I was married. Happily married. We were both married before and have children from our previous relationship. His ex-wife would try to interrupt our lives but it only made us stronger. We had the picture perfect marriage until he got hurt. He's a roofer. He fell off a roof. His body laid there twisted and mangled. He was alive but in pain. The ambulance came and he was rushed to the hospital. He had to have back surgery. As I anxiously waited for the doctor to talk to me about my husband I started thinking about all the stupid fights we got into and how proud I actually am of him. Finally, after hours of waiting, the doctor came out and said surgery went well and he would need physical therapy. I was happy and ready to help. When it was time for my husband to go home the doctor prescribed him medicine to manage the pain. At first I didn't think anything about it. He started to heal but said he still needed the pain pills. I couldn't understand why but since I never had that kind of surgery why would I. Unfortunately, he became a statistic. He is now an opiate addict. Watching him for the first time in full addiction was unbelievable. I cried. I screamed. I asked God why. I watched him run around the house screaming, falling, hit himself and collapse to the ground and nod off. I knew he was hurting and I was helpless. He went to several rehabs. No success for longer than a couple months. You see for rehab to work the addict has to want to change...has to want to be sober. He wasn't ready. Life was hell on earth. I had to keep him away from my family and my daughter was angry because she saw me fading and being an absolute mess. Everything was against this relationship now. His kids and ex kept sneaking drugs to him so he would give them money. I couldn't take it anymore. One night when he was out of control the police came to the house. The neighbors called. They were afraid for me. He was arrested and put in jail. I cried because the addict is not who he really was; but I was at peace. I could sleep knowing I was safe. The judge kept him in jail for a month, than a rehab, a halfway house and three-quarter house. I had 10 months of rest. 10 months to get me back. He was placed in a drug court program. A drug court program is very strict. Random drug tests 4 times a week and signed NA/AA meeting slips with court twice a month. He had some slip ups and was sent back to three-quarter house. One year later he graduates the drug court program. I was getting my husband back. It was getting good again. He was allowed near my family. We had years of happiness. I'm not sure why but he relapsed and I couldn't get him back this time. It was a spiral of in and out of jail and this time he got violent. I broke. He broke me. He was suffering. I was suffering. My daughter moved to another state for a job, so I was alone. I wanted to end his pain. I wanted to end my pain. That night I made a chocolate cake filled with poison. After dinner and making love for the last time we had dessert. The poison counter acted against the other drugs in his body and calmed him down. He looked at me and said I'm sorry and we fell asleep and died in each other’s arms. I just hope my family can forgive me and know that I love them with all my heart. Bye.
Recipe
It is Sally’s turn to teach her daughter Eli how to bake a chocolate cake. She flicks through the pages of the old recipe book that has been in her family for generations until she reaches a page with what looked like a clipping from an old magazine with a beautiful slice of cake, moist, brown, airy looking. Her grandmother’s notes in the margin of the notebook, delicate, carry within them the marks of a somewhat carefree past, one in which children knew what chocolate tastes like.
Laureline LandryPublished 3 years ago in FictionBig Bones
He stormed out of the small apartment and slammed the door as hard as he could with his good arm. Putting all his weight forward the door crashed closed, scaring a cat somewhere and causing a dog to bark relentlessly from across the hall. It's small silhouette jumped up and down at the opaque glass front door. His arm in the sling tingled with some pain but he thought he deserved it. The whole thing had blown his mind and taken his breath. He gripped the thin wooden rail extra tightly in his hand as he descended the tight stair. He couldn't believe his ears when she said it. Whenever he had come home crying after being made fun of at school she had said it. She said it to him when family members would look with faces of skepticism and lean in to whisper to her. She had told him his whole life, "You're not fat darling, you're just husky." The last word would sometimes change. "Solid." "Strong." "Big boned." All the same stupid thing. He was not "solid", his body gave way with the slightest touch. He was not "strong", he could barely make it up the steps to his own apartment most days. And he definitely was not big boned! His bones were perfectly normal sized. He was a huge, cow-like, wobbling, sweaty, sausage fingered, blob of a man shaped like a melting ice-cream that couldn't see over his own breasts or tie his shoes! In short, he was fat. Had been fat his entire life. Fat, weak, fat, dumb, and fat. Not big boned.
Alexander V. CantrellPublished 3 years ago in FictionChocolate, I Love You
Maggie bent over to peer into the refrigerator. The most perfect chocolate cake looked back at her, sitting on the middle shelf by itself. Thick white icing, dark chocolate shavings pressed against the sides and cherries nestled in swirls of whipped cream along the top. She hadn’t taken any short cuts and now her mouth watered at the mere sight of it. She had used her favourite recipe; the one where the chocolate is melted, and hot water is added to the batter. It made the cake extra moist. Maggie had made it for her sister’s birthday, but Jana was working late and would not be home for at least a couple more hours.
Kelsey ReichPublished 3 years ago in FictionSecrets
Katie sobbed quietly, under her dark glasses. She could cry now, hidden behind the protection of her lenses but she knew she would have to stay strong for the wake. Her mother would need her. Trying to hold back the pang in her heart and the loss she felt so deep in her inner child, she took a deep breath.
Cristina RojasPublished 3 years ago in FictionSomeday I'll See You, Too
I invited him because of the chocolate cake. Or, at least, to see if he’d still bake it, now that he’s left us. Or maybe just to show him what it feels like to think you’re loved, only to find that you’re used.
Sarah NathanPublished 3 years ago in FictionCake for the Soul
“Beep! Beep! BEEP!” goes my alarm pleading to me for the hundredth time to open my eyes and face the inevitable . I groan as I quickly roll over throwing the blankets off my exhausted body. Sitting up I swing my legs over the side of my bed. Still discombobulated I rise up out of bed and head to the bathroom to take a shower hoping it is just what I need to wake up.
Memoirs of a Southern Belle
We'd just completed our finishin' school. It was the summer of 1891. We had grown up and now it was time for us to find a husband, be married, and raise children of our own.
Teresa LittigPublished 3 years ago in Fiction