family
Ancestral
There was a certain mystique about the box that lay in front of me. One that I couldn't get over. I had to know what was inside of it, there was no second thought about it. I had already decided if it was a bomb or some sort of chemical agent meant to dispatch me, that I would be ok with that. What did I have to live for anyhow?
By Michael Butler4 years ago in Fiction
A daughter's love
Story 2! Enjoy ;) My mother was doing that thing she did. That thing with the rag in the sink. It was a cause of whimsy at first, with how she would twirl it around her fingers as she washed one plate after the next, getting our modest little kitchen in order after what must have also been a long day at the hospital. Such a selfless soul was she, keeping us together despite how much was on her shoulders with work as well as myself, our flat as well as the aftermath of her split from my dad. I used to love seeing the grin on her face when she told the stories of her, a nurse at the city hospital, and her colleagues running around day by day doing the good thing for the people that were in their mutual care. How I was blind with my youthful naiveté to the cracks in her smile, the brave way she was keeping the realities of such work from me to not create any apparent damage to my fragile happiness as her only child. This was despite me asking often how her day had been, sincerely and often so that I could learn more about her life outside our haven and just so I could…hear her voice.
By Paul Russell4 years ago in Fiction
Unknown Assailant
Chapter 1 Questions Birds floated lazily on the breeze while bees hummed as they gathered nectar. The smell of honeysuckle flowers, wild roses, and hydrangea floated in the open window next to my desk and filled my mind with images of an open field of tall grass that waved and flitted with the fingers of the wind .
By Natalie Kniffin4 years ago in Fiction
The Box
Scratch marks trailed from the front door to the living room. It had arrived earlier and neither of us dared to open it. “You know, it couldn’t be anything bad.” My husband’s voice sounded unsure, always unsure. We both stared at the wooden box. No labels, no return address, no hint as to where it came from. “We should just open it.” He mindlessly inched away from it. I saw him shifting on his feet, each shift resulting in more distance.
By Caitlin Samminga4 years ago in Fiction
Starlight
The mountain air is cool, and dusk is settling in. The late fall sun has set. The leaves on the ground rustle restlessly as small animals come out for the night, disturbing the dried leaves that still retain some of their red and orange hues. A few leaves still cling determinedly to the trees, but they are in the minority.
By Alana S. Leonard4 years ago in Fiction
Even Dragons have bullies.
“Next stop: 57th street and Fifth Avenue!” Greg Clawscar bellowed to nobody. The doors on the saddle-car slowly closed before he took off from Madison Avenue. With just a few strokes from his twin wings, he was able to lift himself, twelve tons of dragon, and the empty saddle-car strapped on his back up and over the quaint forest called Central Park.
By Julian Grajales4 years ago in Fiction
