family
La Vida Colorida
She lived such a colorful life. I didn’t see it all first hand but the stories she would tell were full of adventure, humor and excitement. From singing at restaurants in Mexico, owning a bar in California and even a cab driver in Arizona, there was never a dull moment. When I see the Scarlet Macaw, I think of her. Just like the Macaw she was sociable and loud, love you Abuela! She has been gone for years now but she, and her language, were as colorful as the bird. Beautiful, graceful, smart and sassy, just like the Scarlet Macaw, she is my grandmother. Once someone is gone from this earth, they continue to live in us through memories. My grandmother was a fierce and beautiful light in the world eerily similar to this magnificent bird. I like to think that all the sassy Latina grandmothers come back as Scarlet Macaws. The colorful feathers are a reflection of their colorful lives, Vida Colorida. They are admired by many for their intelligence and beauty. They are elegant but will defend their families. Macaws, unlike other birds, will stay with their mate and together they will take care of the hatchlings. My grandmother had her own hatchlings, my mother being the eldest helped to take care of the younger ones while the parents worked. My grandmother was a master at any job she had but she would get bored and move on to something else. Incredibly intelligent and loved learning new things, like the Macaw, she never stayed in the same place for too long. Life is to be lived and enjoyed, she would say. She loved playing cards and any game really, where money was on the line. She lived dangerously and risky some might say, but it was calculated risks and she always came out on top. She showed my mother and other women in the family what it meant to be a strong, determined wife and mother while keeping her feminine elegance all the while. Like a scarlet macaw preening itself, Abuelita always had her hair, nails and makeup done. Grandmother always dressed to impress regardless of where she was going that day, or even if only to stay at home. She made sure that the house was tidy and clean, that the children were dressed and always doing their best, as expectations were a huge part of her successful mindset. Grandmother always knew her worth and expected fair compensation for work and services, just as a macaw learning new tricks would expect a reward each time something new is mastered. It is a marvelous thought to think all the Macaws are someone’s beloved grandmother, bold and full of spirit, flying over us to watch us and take care of the land. However, Macaws are endangered due to the declining rainforest and because of their brilliant colors and looks, they are being poached. We should protect and honor the birds and the land the way our grandmother’s protected and honored our families. I pray that I have made my grandmother proud, she certainly wasn’t afraid to tell you otherwise if you didn’t, but I wouldn’t have had it any other way. The Macaw is a reminder to me to keep living life to the fullest, to be bold and bright, don’t fall into being like everyone else. A reminder to be an individual and don’t compare yourself to anyone else. All of the birds are unique and fascinating in their own ways. Fly freely everyday and make the most of your colorful time here on this beautiful earth.
By Shanon Canuto5 years ago in Fiction
Crickets in the Field
The casket was closed. It was the one thing Freddie cared about, and the only input he gave when they discussed the funeral. He let Lisa and Jeremy sort out the rest. He didn’t care if she was cremated or buried, what kind of wood they chose for the coffin, or where they held the service. All he requested was that the casket stayed closed.
By katherine j zumpano5 years ago in Fiction
Days of the Guacamaya Roja
My name is Julio Martinez and as I begin to tell you, know I was once a taker of parrots. The guacamaya roja, the scarlet macaw. Yes, a beauty. Red, green, yellow, blue. We took them down from the trees, the eggs, the birds flown into nets, their feathers, whatever we could get. It wasn't against the law at first, you know. There were so many, nobody could see the end of them.
By Natalie Wilkinson5 years ago in Fiction
China White
When I was a little girl, I remember playing in my mother’s beautiful and luscious garden; saturated with plush Fruits, veggies and roses. The papayas so juicy and plump stood proud and tall, nearly shading the independent bright and colorful roses which took charge of the garden. The grass danced in the calm waves as the wind softly mellowed throughout the land. I would close my eyes as I inhaled the aroma of the ripe Papayas as the smell would fill my nose so much so that I was now able to taste the thick tangy fruity accents as the wind carried the delightful fragrance throughout the garden. I would become famished after spending long periods of time shifting my noes throughout the garden. One time when I was eight years old I just spinet in circles until I fell onto the moist grass and soil that graced the perimeter of the land. “Mijah ay ay ay Dios Mio! (oh my god)” Shouted my mother as she quickly walked from our kitchen and into the back garden towards my direction clutching on her powered apron as if it was a Christian Dior ball gown. What are you thinking Princesa? We mustn’t have you get dirty; today is a very important day” My mother said as she waved her hand frantically in the air; signaling for Isabella to rush to my aide. Isabella was one of many of our servants who lived with us in our home. My father had taking a strong liking to Isabella before I was even conceived and my mother hasn’t been able to get rid of her since. She’s been around us so long, our family and guest hints that she shares facial features with me and mama. While carefully steaming the Golden silk drapes which hung on every window in the foyer of our living room, she quickly noticed my mother signaling for her, causing her to drop the drapes which hung abundantly from the windows interior molding. Isabella came to me, taking me from my mother’s arms and inspected me for any bruises or scratches as if she was more concerned for me than my own mother. “ay ay porcelna!, Qué has hecho” (Oh china what have you done?) she asked while noticing the dirt on my Egyptian cotton and hand stitched gown crafted by her own hands. She called to me as China because of my greasy face reminded her of a china doll. My mother couldn’t help but to be jealous that Isabella skills did more for me and my father than hers could. Perching her lips and rolling her eyes as she stood up from the marble bench which rested on the fountains walkway. My mother wore a beautiful flowing dress behind her apron and beautiful 6inch tan pumps. Isabella, my husband will be home in any moment now and I need for Maria to be ready in a moment’s time before he arrives with the governor for dinner. Isabella lips quivered as she was stammering over words that she had yet spoken. “Must I say it louder in Spanish my dear? I need you to hurry before Carlos makes it home!” she shouted as she strutted back into the kitchen to set up the dinner table. The servants gathered around and watched as Isabella took my hand and escorted me quickly to my bedroom. Hearing the sounds of her bright White cotton canvas shoes as they squeaked through the voluminous halls as we came near the archway which would welcome us to the entrance of my bedroom. There making my bed were two servants who Isabella considered her closest friends. Softly smiling at Isabella, they greeted her as they finished making up the bed. “Get Out!” Shouted Isabella as she guided me towards the fully body trifold mirror that stood in the left corner of my bed room. The girls frowned and quickly made their way out while arrogantly avoiding eye contact with me and Isabella. She went on her knees, pulling out a needle and thread pouch which was underneath the mini leather foot stool I was standing on. Hearing the sounds of her Stitching, stewing and cutting as fast as she could was satisfying to my ears. I gazed into the mirror while Isabella finished fixing my dress, I could see my mother reflection as she made her way into the room. “Your beautiful hair flows like the river of the Nile” my mother said as she was now by my right side as Isabella stood on my left and softly smiled. “The Nile, forever new and old, among the living and the dead, its mighty, mystic stream has rolled -Henry Wadsworth Longfellow” Whispered my mother as she began to braid my hair into a beautiful bun. We all looked at each other while smiling into the mirror; my mother pulled a bright lushes flower from the side of her hair and placed it into mine. We all captured a glimpse of Alphonso, who stood calmly near the entrance of my bed room as we all smiled into the mirror. Alphonso was the charge servant also known as a butler. Madam, Don Carlos has arrived” he said while lifting his hand and bringing our attention to the window in my bedroom which revealed my father’s arrival. Looking at my mother’s soft smile as she grabbed my hand so that we could hurry to greet my father and the governor in time. Stretching out of the front doors and onto the front yard as the multiple vehicles of my father’s armada came to a final halt. The servants remained steadfast as we all watched as the dust from the gravel paved driveway to settle. Each vehicle holstering miniature flags on the left and right side of their hoods which displayed our family crest. Something seemed different about papa’s arrival, he’d yet stepped out the vehicle. None of his guardsmen got out their vehicles to greet the residence and render their respects to me and mama. My mother clutched on to my hand while we all continued to stare at our own reflections as we focused on the indestructible tinted black windows. The engines of each and every vehicle cut off all at the same time, everyone squinted their eyes and watched curiously as the windows on every vehicle began to roll down. We see my father with duck tapped wrapped around his mouth, nearly seconds later shot to his death in front of us all. Now all that is left for us to see is down the barrels of the machine guns that are now aimed towards us all. Alphonso hopelessly faced my mother and I with deep sorrow filled eyes, he yelled “run!” as several rimless rounds began to spray from the armada and ripple the bodies of the servants. My mother snatched my hand and dragged me into the house as we all began to run into the foyer. Horrified screams and sounds of servants screeching as they all rushed and tried to huddle into the house. My mother and I ran upstairs making our way to the nearest bedroom from the grand stair case, my mother looked over the fair rail as she seen gruesome blood splatters spraying into our home as the bottled began to shred in our home. Hopeless bodies coated the foyer as their blood drained onto the masonic floor. Carrying me towards the guest quarters my mother quietly shut the door quietly and signaled for me to hind in the closet while she searched for her next place of shelter. It felt like a dreadful nightmare that would come to a terrible end soon. My mother bit her lip as she clenched her fist into a ball while squeezing her eyes shut, listening to the sounds of the multiple car doors slamming shut as the cries of terrors and endless rounds finally came to a tranquil; yet disturbing standstill. We could only assume that all our beloved servants were now dead and the men were prepared to raid our home until they found what they came for. “What is happening Mama” I loudly whispered from the closet as her face wrinkled from great worry. “Psst quédate, princesa” (Stay put princess) she whispered as we could now hear the men making their way up the stairs. Mama made her way to me taking quiet mouse steps, she couldn’t help but look out the guest bedroom window where she stood their gazing for several seconds. “Mama you have to hurry, you must before they come and see you” I said while extending my hand out to her as she continued to stare out the window. She didn’t budge, not even a bit to even look in my direction. She’d seen something that had her stuck in looking forward in shock as if she was in suspended animation. I stood and slowly walked towards the center of the room where my mother stood; I joined my mother as we were now both gazing out the window which displayed a man who stood directly on the other side and in his hand he held pistol with a silencer attached. Before I knew it my mother looked at me and with a scream that pierced fear in the gunman, she screamed her final words. “run!” The gunman fired a single shot which collided with the window which towered over us, looking up at the glass as the sharp shards began cascading down like bright sparkling water. My mother fell to her knees clutching her breast where the bullet had punctured her skin and arteries and now behind her stood a tall American man who held his pistol to her head and fired a single shot; sending my mother to her immediate death. There I was wearing the blood stains of my own mother, I was prepared to accept my fate alongside her lifeless body. Dropping down to my knees while facing his feet, I softly began to sob quietly. He laid his gun by myside and kneeled down on one knee and bowed. Behind him were the rest of the men as they too were also bowing their heads. “Why have you done this to my family, why have you done this to us?” I cried as I tried my hardest to crumble the marble tile from under us all. “China White” said the Englishman as he slowly lifted his head. “I know you won’t understand this now, but your family are not these people. We were sent to take you back home to your family where belong he said to me. “I belong here” I said stubbornly, watching the men as they all stood. The Englishman who stood closest to me gently plucked away the red & chubby fresh rose bud which was ever so perfectly laced into my brown hair and began pulling from is suit breast pocket; a pen box. In this box was a bright red poppy flower, one like I’d never seen before? He slid the poppy flower through the braids of my hair, where it rested in the bun that my mother had styled for me just a few moments ago. You are Daughter of Don Carlos D. Forthright and Isabella E. Forthright He said while smiling down at me. “Then who am I” I asked them all while still kneeling behind my mother body. “I’ll let her be the one to tell you” he replied as he stepped away from the archway exposing Isabella…My personal servant. Well before your father and “step-mother” were brutally gunned down just moments ago, you were Maria De leon a daughter of a filthy rich Mexican rancher but now you are the curse that your father failed to hide. You are China White, The Queen Of The American Cartel and I am your biological Mother and only for now the ruler of what you will one day grow old enough to possess; The W.A.R Cartel. Rest easy my love, for there is much more I have to explainee.lexplaine.
By Amari Johnson5 years ago in Fiction
One of those days
It was one of those days. Again. Another one of those days filled with dread. Where anything and everything was hard. Waking up was a chore. Getting out of bed was worse and the day ahead felt like a long, dark tunnel without a light at the other end.
By Maala Breusch5 years ago in Fiction
The Ghost in Jersey (EDITED)
It was in that moment that she came face-to-face with the truth. Without hesitation, she rushed out of the door and drove straight to the last place she had seen him - Point Pleasant, New Jersey. Finding solace on a bench, she patiently waited, immersing herself in the symphony of sounds surrounding her. Laughter of children filled the air as they gleefully darted toward various rides and games, their parents futilely attempting to slow them down or keep them in one place. The distant jingles and clangs of fair games provided a faint backdrop to the bustling atmosphere of the pier. Amidst the chaos, the fairground rides roared like they were on the verge of collapse, yet everyone had unwavering faith in their durability. While everyone around her seemed to be enjoying themselves, she stood apart. Silently, she waited, gazing out at the vast expanse of the Atlantic Ocean, her patience unwavering.
By The Liv Chapters5 years ago in Fiction
Who's Your Daddy?
I was born in the fall of 1952. My mother was an elementary school teacher and my father worked for the city. He was a wiry little man with a brilliant sense of humor, as I recall. He could light up a room just by thinking about the room. He could also light up a cigarette and then do magic tricks with it. One of his tricks was particularly brilliant. He would first light the smoke and then grip the unlit end between his tongue and his lower front teeth and pivot the cigarette back, open his mouth wide, rotate the burning end back and inside his mouth, close his mouth and blow smoke out of his nose and his right ear. I know this sounds like I’m making it up, but he really could do it. The nose part I got because I could do the same with a glass of milk. My dad taught me how to do that one. He figured, at the time, that I was too young to be performing cigarette tricks so, he showed me how to take a mouthful of milk, close my lips tight build up some pressure and blow it out through my nose. Much to the chagrin of my poor mother, my two older brothers and my three sisters could also perform the same trick. On a good night at the supper table, my mom would consider herself lucky if only a couple of us spewed a white stream of dairy product back into our glass before we drank it. Eeewww! I know. Gross right?
By John Oliver Smith5 years ago in Fiction
The betrayal
"I finished reading that book that you suggested," Sienna said to Ricky, "You were right, I loved it." "I told you that you would. I know you by now," then he stood up and went to the kitchen table, "I have another one for you. So much like the one you just read. You'll love it."
By Talara Nolan5 years ago in Fiction
