family

The Craving
It was too late to call—10pm in Los Angeles and midnight in Sugar Run. Mom went to bed reliably at nine. Google would know, Claudia consoled herself. She typed “fudge recipe” into the little white box and scrolled through too many microwaved chocolate chip recipes before typing “fudge that you make with a candy thermometer.” This was better. Condensed milk sounded familiar, but the more she read, the more Claudia doubted her own memory. Condensed milk or evaporated? Had it been sugar and cocoa powder, or some baker’s chocolate? There were a hundred variations.
By femle5 years ago in Fiction
The Waiting Room
I’ve heard that love makes people do strange things, but grief seems the worse drug. Rosie has a white-knuckled grip on her armrests and is staring at the ‘Have Hope!’ poster in front of her like she wants to set it on fire, muscles twitching in her jaw. Her knee bounces, heel tapping out an unforgiving rhythm against the cold floor. She has a small stain on her lips that she hasn’t noticed.
By heyitsfiye5 years ago in Fiction
'Thunder Child' and the Epic Signal
Must have been nine, maybe eight, when first I learned about those Martians. Relying upon the primitive television devised by humans, my cousin Tamara and I were witness to the frightening arrivals of their deadly saucer ships, and we gaped at the destruction they wreaked, with their murderous heat beams. We drank in the scenes of global annihilation: Homo sapiens, defeated by ugly alien invaders with stick-like limbs and three-colored lenses for eyesight.
By Eric Wolf5 years ago in Fiction
PHANTOM PAINS
I set them down on the counter. One dislodges from its place and rolls onto the surface. With index finger and thumb, I take hold of this piece of flesh and bone. I sniff it, wrinkle my nose, and hold it up to the light. The suppurating wound is festering beneath the amber crust of the toenail. My fingertip touches the bright bluey white of the bone which was once attached to the rest of the foot. Then I squeeze this little piggy. My fingers sink into the flesh. I avert my eyes, my stomach flips, and I’m awake.
By Sram5 years ago in Fiction
Snow Day
Anna looked around her room, watching the shadows dance around her bedroom wall. She did not want to leave the blanket of warm that her comforter encased around her. The shadows looked like little spiders crawling down her wall, she thought to herself, as she contemplated getting herself up and out of bed. Yesterday had been long and tiring, getting loads of cleaning work done in the barn. There was news of the first snow storm of the season coming soon, and she wanted to be ready. The last thing she needed was to freeze a finger, or anything off, being unnecessarily out in the cold.
By Jessica Edinger5 years ago in Fiction
Ghost in the Woods
“I don’t understand,” said the man with a dangerous voice. “You said the search would only take a few days, sheriff. It has been TWO WEEKS!” The man’s wife jumped in her chair then struggled to suppress a high pitched sob. The officer, however, didn’t flinch. He simply took off his hat and sighed. “Sir, I can’t begin to imagine what you and your wife are feeling, but I assure you that we are trying our-.”
By Bowyn Broderick5 years ago in Fiction
Where do I put them?
The world rolled on hazily through the bus windows nauseating me till I was set alert by a barn owl flaunting its wings among the pine trees. The bus groans then whine to a stop at a traffic light, with a gluttonous stare I follow the trajectory of the owl, I clutch the edge of my seat my forehead pressed to the cold window, the raucous sounds of my breaths foaming the surface.
By seirna Folly5 years ago in Fiction
Birds of a Feather
Marnie always knew she would outlive her brother. An odd sentiment for any sister to have, let alone a twin. Yet, despite this deviation in familial solidarity, there had never been a time when she did not have the distinct notion of her brother living to a ripe old age in tandem with her.
By Brittany Whipple5 years ago in Fiction
El Cubano
Juanito always loved the smell that filled the air after it rained in the city. Something about the sweet, earthy aroma reminded him it was summer and that there was nowhere he needed to be in the morning. That relaxed him. He breathed in the reminder and wanted to sigh but was too tired to get it out. Every situation over past few years had just taxed him to the point that he was tired of it all. He’d spent the night driving his cousin, Omar, around the city - tied up by proxy in all the drama that Omar immersed himself in. This night in particular involved his (again) trying to cultivate a new relationship while maintaining a current relationship, by being there for his new love interest when her most recent relationship went sour. Omar loved the thrill of it all, and initially it proved somewhat amusing for Juanito, like a soap opera that he got to play a minor role in; but more than anything it provided a sense of… escape. Escape from the problems immediate family provided.
By Adam Ruiz5 years ago in Fiction
the grateful stepmother
I sat quietly at the window seat, watching the train pass through the tunnel, my view changing before my eyes every few seconds. My gaze is drawn to the naked trees, which reflect and remind me of my state of being empty and lonely. I lean back in my seat and take a deep sigh. I closed my eyes, flashes of memories came flooding back to me of when I first moved to this country, joining high school, watching my siblings grow and mum and dad being together. now I’m twenty and in my second year of university, next year I will graduate with a bachelor’s in psychology. I'm astounded at how far I've come; my life has been moving at a breakneck pace, yet amid the bustle of growing up, I feel like I've lost myself somewhere. my phone buzzed in my pocket breaking my thoughts and bringing me back to reality. I checked and saw Priya’s missed call. she probably reached the café and was waiting for me. I quickly checked the stops and texted. After two stops I arrived at my destination and hurried my way up before making Priya wait for any longer.
By Bakhta karimi5 years ago in Fiction
Watchful
He flew without knowing the reasons why other than that he was meant to and when he perched upon the branch he furled his wings about him and began his watch. He was on a mission, but there was no fear in this mission because the mission was ordained. The watch would last a night and in his timeless eyes all of existence was awake with him to witness.
By Isaac Chin5 years ago in Fiction
Connections
A woman is in search of her place in the world.Her children have grown up to ages where they are self sufficient and her husband has found his niche and is thriving. The mother is perplexed as she continues in her same old mundane routine. She wakes up early each morning prepares the lunches, pack book bags, prepares breakfast, wakes the kids, takes lets the dogs out, takes the kids to school while showering them with loving and motivational affirmation, goes back home to work on her business and work, gets the kids from school, prepares dinner, does more work for her business or goes out for work if needed, bathes the kids that need help, cleans the kitchen, checks homework, tucks in the children, works out, showers, watches tv with her husband, then goes to bed and does it all over again the next day and the next and so on. Where does she fit in? She is more than a mother, wife and business owner. Where is her space for her? The woman has a deep passion for writing, but is having difficulty going down that path. As she sits writing each day she has become fascinated with the birds that continue to sing and chatter on her back deck. So much so, that she asked her husband to buy a bird feeder and some bird seed the next time he is at the hardware store. A few days later, she has her bird feeder filled with bird seed, but none of the birds that were frequenting her deck are showing up to enjoy the food. She fells disconnected, much like the birds were from the bird feeder. She feels that she has filled her life up with education, self help, love, marriage, children, business, and so many other things. But now goes unnoticed and uninteresting, like she is completely disconnected. She’s been working and dreaming of business venues and growing even more successful, but for some reason falls short. There is link missing in the chain, something is broken or rusted, the connection is uncertain. The bird feeder and her personal goals and aspirations are coinciding at this point. After several weeks go by she notices that birds begin to eat from the feeder. All it took was one bird to do it then the others followed suit. One by one the birds began eating the bird seed. The bird feeder is much like the woman. She is there trying to figure out what she needs to do and what to say to get where she wants to go. All it takes is just one person to notice your talents, your work, you. Coincidently, her daughter loves birds and shares that her class is studying barn owls at school. The uniqueness of birds and their many kinds, and how each one is special regardless of its size, color, habitat, wing spand, etc. ran parallel to the woman’s life. She too is unique in her perception and habits. She is valued beyond measure. Much to her surprise her daughter gives her a compliment. She tells her she is like a barn owl because she has a special beauty when the light hits her. The barn owl can only be seen on way in the darkness, but in the light all its colors perpetuate. The woman realizes that she shine so everlastingly bright with all the colors and pieces of herself that are hidden in the darkness. When the light overtakes the darkness she can find her purpose, live out her dreams. She is has to come out of hiding herself. As human beings it is life changing when it is realized that we are all special and have a magnitude of potential that can impact this world. Connections are made human to human, animal to human, Earth to human and animal to Earth. Light to darkness, being seen and hiding. We are all connected. Every atom, every energy, every living thing. We have to come out of hiding to receive the surges of energy that make us all remember we are here and we are one.
By Krystal Burt5 years ago in Fiction