family
Escape From Lakewood
Forest View Hospice Center, May 2012 My great grandfather, Benjamin, is a great man- a family man through and through. He had a close relationship with his kids, grandkids, and even his great-grandchildren. Today he asked to see me only. He wants to tell the story of his childhood, and according to him, I am the only one who can "tell it right" after he is gone
By J. Delaney-Howe4 years ago in Fiction
Willow's Journey
Her sleep is disturbed by a steady, rhythmic motion. Refusing to open her eyes, Willow takes a deep breath, somewhat frustrated. “It’s too early to be up,” she thinks to herself. When the rocking motion fails to cease, Willow is rendered fully awake. “This hotel bed should not be rocking,” she says aloud as she sits up.
By Shaye Smith4 years ago in Fiction
One Last Ride
Alice Wilbourn stared out the window, watching the world speed past at a pace far too fast for her to follow. Various shades of green, blue, and brown twisted and blurred until the sky, trees, and earth were nothing but messy splotches of color against a constantly moving canvas.
By Angela Jewell4 years ago in Fiction
Say goodbye to yourself
Karen was nine years old, small, dark, and nearsighted. She has no friends and lives with her brother and sister-in-law. Her brother was twenty years older than her, and his eyes were set very close together, and his face was very sad. No one in his family is good-looking.
By Na Dunshie4 years ago in Fiction
The Christmas Miracle
“Is this Heaven?”, she wondered, gazing up from her back at the multicolored stars, moving and twinkling in the night sky. She closed her eyes for a long moment but when she opened them the stars were still there. Were there stars in heaven? She didn’t know if heaven had stars, but if it did, they would HAVE to look like these. But alas, these stars refused to indulge in her idle wonderings so she sat up and looked around. She was seated on the roof of some metal boxlike moving car. She looked behind her and saw that her car was attached to another car and another and…oh it was a train. She was sitting on the roof of a caboose at the end of a train. How did she get here? Where was here? She looked to her right and saw colorful but strangely shaped hills and mountains. Glancing to her left showed her that the train was passing by a small winter town. She could see little homes and stores and a town hall with people ice skating in front of it on a frozen pond. The stores and houses were covered in snow and a blanket of snow lay on the ground. It all seemed very nostalgic and homey. She wasn’t cold, which was weird with all the snow around the train and her wearing just jeans and a sleeveless shirt. She needed to get off this roof and figure out where she was and what was going on. Especially if this wasn’t heaven she reasoned. There was a short ladder at the end of the caboose that led from the roof to a railed landing where someone could stand and watch the train tracks until they faded away. She was able to negotiate this without too much trouble, although her hands and feet felt weird. Maybe it was from laying on the roof in the cold for so long. Maybe. She stood before an old painted wooden door that led into the caboose. Steeling her nerve, she opened the door and stepped inside. The caboose wasn’t very large and was pretty sparsely decorated. There was nothing on the walls and only a bright lantern shining on a wooden table near a couple old wooden chairs. She was startled to realize that one chair was occupied by someone. He turned towards her at the sound of the door opening and gave her a smile as she entered. “Hi”, he said. He was dressed in military gear, and she gasped as she realized he was missing the bottom of his right leg. He was a soldier, she reasoned. “Umm, hi”, she said aloud. She winced at her voice. Is that the way she really sounded? It wasn’t at all how she sounded in her head. He grinned, seeming to read her thoughts. “Welcome to the Christmas Miracle”, he stated. Tilting her head, she asked, “What? “What do you mean Christmas Miracle?”
By Brian Cochran4 years ago in Fiction
The little hero
I remember the day after I arrived, I organized a family show. There was a sea of people in the hall, as the saying goes, and there was not a single empty seat. For some reason, I arrived late, so I had to stand and enjoy the show. But the gaiety of the show drew me in and pushed me further and further forward. I pushed my way to the front row and ended up standing there with my arm resting on the back of an arm-chair. Inside the arm-chair sat a woman. That's my pretty blonde. But we didn't know each other then. Without realizing it, I gazed at her strangely round, seductive shoulders. Her shoulders were fat and white as milk foam. In fact, it didn't matter to me whether it was a beautiful woman's shoulder, or a cap with flaming ribbons, worn by a respectable lady in the first row to conceal her white hair. Beside the blonde sat an old maid who had passed her age. I have found many times since that these old maids have always tried to get as close as possible to the young and beautiful women, and crowded with them, and singled out those who did not like to be driven away from the young men. But that's not the point. As soon as the old girl noticed my observation, she bent down and giggled at the neighboring lady, whispering in her ear. The woman next to her suddenly turned her head, and I remember that her fiery eyes flashed at me in the darkness, and I trembled as if I had been burned, for I was unprepared for them.
By Gord Hyles4 years ago in Fiction
The little hero
I wasn't even eleven years old. In July I was invited to visit a relative of mine named T in the countryside near Moscow. There were no less than fifty visitors to his house, maybe more... I can't remember exactly how many, and I never counted them. It was very busy and happy. As if it were a show that had only a beginning and never an end. It seems that our master, who had vowed to spend his vast fortune as quickly as possible, had recently succeeded in fulfilling his promise, that is to say, to spend every penny of it. New guests arrive every minute. Moscow was so close that you could look up and see it, so one group of guests would leave only to make room for another, and the show would go on. The way to have fun, one after the other, new tricks, endless. In the suburbs riding horses, one after another gallop; Go for a walk in the pines or along the river; Or have a picnic, go to the field for lunch; Or have dinner on the patio at home. There are three rows of exotic flowers on the balcony, filling the fresh night air with rich fragrance. Our ladies, almost all of whom were already very pretty, looked even more beautiful in the brilliant light. Their faces glowed with the impression of the day, and their eyes gleamed, and they laughed and laughed and laughed like silver bells. And dancing, music, singing. If the weather was gloomy, pantomime, riddles, vivid pictures, folk sayings, or family theatres were organized, and storytellers, jokers, and witticisers appeared.
By Gord Hyles4 years ago in Fiction
The little hero
Do you think I am afraid?" I gave a bold and proud cry, and my eyes were black with excitement, and I was breathless with excitement, and my face was flushed, and hot tears ran down my cheeks. "You'll see!" We haven't had time to take any action to stop me in the past, I grabbed the tank column's mane, and a foot into the stirrup, but in this evil spirit that, between tanks have perked up front feet, head, flash, a powerful jump, break away from two stunned groom out, like a whirlwind, fly fly up, only heard barking people gave a scream.
By Gord Hyles4 years ago in Fiction
The little hero
Mrs. M was tall, soft and slender, but a little slender. She seems to have no laws, while slow, gentle, even a bit serious, sometimes like a little child agile, and at the same time, her gestures and reveal some timid deferential, a seems to be afraid of have no alternative, but she doesn't beg anyone for help, nor shelter.
By Gord Hyles4 years ago in Fiction
