family
The Gift
Alissa watched the sunlight recede from the surface of the lake, and the shadows settle in. The insects had begun their chorus and a rustling in the fallen leaves heralded the stirring of the nocturnal creatures. She drew her cardigan in closer, overlapping it across her chest, drawing in against the dampening chill. Her hands receded into her sleeves, and she drew her knees up, hugging them, tucking her bare feet onto the bench.
By Amber Yozelle Barber5 years ago in Fiction
Going Back Home
Maggie angrily slammed the door shut behind her with all her might, storming out of her parents’ rickety farmhouse. Dust cascaded down around her in a cloud as the screen door banged behind her. She sneezed and futilely waved the dust from her face. Stomping down the steps, she pulled her winter coat tight around her to keep the cold at bay. Her anger radiated off her and she fumed at what had just happened.
By Maeve Calloway5 years ago in Fiction
Common Ground
Awoken by a most frightening sound I turn over in bed and open my eyes. It’s what I imagined the banshees in my grandfather’s folk tales would sound like. I wonder if he sounded the shrieks of the nightmarish creatures as he passed on the stories to dad. Not knowing the sound of my grand dad’s voice, I try to imagine his accent. Did he try to hide it to fit into his new home? Again I hear the hisses and the screeches, this time closer than before. Out my window a flash of white swoops through the midnight black. Our local owls which frightened me as a child were considered noble by that man I never knew. The same one who built this home and fed so many mouths that have all moved on now. The swift white beacon circles around again. It draws me up and out of bed. It’s shriek sends shivers down my spine as it passes.
By John Kovalsky5 years ago in Fiction
The Dark Harbinger
I walked outside one day, it was hot and humid in the middle of the summer. It was also broad daylight and as I was going about doing chores, I started hearing an owl hooting close to me. It sounded as if it was only about 30 feet away at the edge of the barn. I tend to stay away from this barn. First of all is not on our property even though it's very close to our house. It's on the other side of the fence. In addition, it is also creepy. My kids have explored it a couple of times. It's weird because it's abandoned but is in great condition. It would be a perfectly good barn for hay or whatever else people use barns for. I looked closer in the open door of the barn and I could see the owl. He was just staring at me and it gave me goosebumps all over my body.
By Mikey Lane, MS, LPC, Energy Healer, Medium5 years ago in Fiction
The Boy and the Barn Owl
Shortly after Mexico won its independence from Spain in 1824, Marco Castillo Lopez and his family relocated to a farm on the outskirts of Sinaloa. Marco’s father was a Captain in the Mexican Army during the war and had been rewarded land from Mexico’s first president Guadalupe Victoria.
By James Carabello5 years ago in Fiction
The Uncle, An Owl, and The Lunatic Child
Before I turned twelve years old my parents were in the throes of what may indeed go down as the messiest divorce in history. It was chaos and it would last for some years before the blitz finally ended. Like most warzones though even as the buildings were rebuilt and life moved on the scars on the ground remain. To this day occasionally I’ll be doing something and the disruption of those years will surface. Not as bad now of course and when a memory like that pops in I treat it much like a tour guide would when leading people about London or some such historic battlefield. A point of mild interest or curiosity but with a background of gravitas that cannot go unfelt.
By Simon King 5 years ago in Fiction
Never Stop Loving
Billy is sitting on his front porch playing with a toy truck. He moves it side to side. In the distant inside the house you hear Billy’s parents arguing. Billy being only 9 years old doesn’t understand why they are fighting. The yelling stops and Billy hears footsteps coming towards the front porch. Billy’s dad stands at the front door with only the screen door between them. Billy looks up at his dad with a look of curiosity about what is happening. He pushes the truck down to the other side of the porch and stands up. Billy’s dad face looks empty and tears are forming in his eyes.
By Joshua Kellinghaus 5 years ago in Fiction
"A Nest in the Embers"
She reaches across the table for her Owls, fumbling one from the pack and bringing it to her lips for a light. “I’m gonna quit,” she lies to herself. “These things are killing me...” a wry smile crosses her lips, the cigarette dangling apprehensively, “just not soon enough.” She glares at the malevolent bird on the front of the pack. Owl. Owltruistic. Owlmighty. Owltism. The word twists in her mind, falling over itself again and again until it becomes a jumbled, ugly heap of sharp edges with no discernible meaning.
By Heather Botchlet5 years ago in Fiction
Her Fifth Tattoo
As she led on the bench, her hip aching under her body weight, she couldn't help but stare at the door of the tattoo parlour and think, if anyone were to walk in right now they would see me in my knickers? She imagined a group of uni lads bustling through the door, loudly chatting to each other about their lads holiday and the matching tattoo they were about to get. Until they saw her, led there on her side, with her frilly white knickers on display in their full glory, would they laugh? Probably.
By Katie Watson5 years ago in Fiction
