family
The Botanist's Son
“And this one, my boy, I call a chalice, brimming with sunlight.” My earliest years are to me a flux of images. The first chapters in the story are not really linear, and this makes it quite difficult for me to keep track. I haven’t made sense of it all just yet. There are, however, a few facts that remain my frame to cling on, defiant columns rising from the sea. Firstly, I know my father was a scientist. More specifically, a botanist. The man loved flowers, and he could tell you a lot about them. Often too much. I’ve been told that he possessed the conversational quality of a single C-sharp note, sustained on an organ; at first one was curious to hear it, then one became bored, then one would be forced to take leave before their lack of tolerance became too obvious and, more than anything, impolite. His lectures were notorious for being at once zesty and unbearable. But, as a boy, I was rapt with them. Something I’d inherited from my mother.
By H. R. M. Laventure5 years ago in Fiction
Pink Jewelry Box
The ride home from the hospital was never easy. Every Saturday they would pile in the car and drive the half hour at the off chance they might get to see their grandma one more time. Roro had become too ill for the kids to get to see her, but their mom was allowed to go in. It was nearing more than a month since they began this new Saturday morning routine, and all Anna, Clark and Lori were able to do was sulk around the waiting room and bother their mom for vending machine money for what seemed to be the only edible food source in the entire hospital.
By Brooklyn Moll5 years ago in Fiction
There Were Three Missing
The outside world was unknown to her, but she could see a glimpse of it through the window in his room. This picture of hope is what my mother told me she would use to cope. She cleaned for a man who was part of The Policy when I was young before my sisters were born. The window provided that small opening that she could see a place where nature had not been tortured. Where animals moved around, and birds flew in the sky. She still had hope then, still believed that things would eventually work out. I wish I could talk to her now after all that has happened.
By C. H. Richard5 years ago in Fiction
A Simple Locket
Well, It's official! Senior Year! It seems like just yesterday my parents were walking me and my twin sister into school. My sister was my whole world. She just had this glow always around her. We would always play under the biggest tree we could find during the summer. Our parents were working non-stop to try to start saving for both of us to go to University. We would play until our hearts were content.
By Shaelyne Smith5 years ago in Fiction
Flowers in an Abandoned Greenhouse
A thin ring of sparrows held court around the boundary of the trashcan. They bobbed and bounced away as I drew near. Only one surprised me. Sitting in the filth, that small brash captain, picking away at the uneaten buns. Magnanimously, I let it too escape, before I threw my plastic cup into the bin.
By Danny Carlon5 years ago in Fiction
Princess Marigold
“Princess Marigold.” That is what they called her. It wasn’t her nickname until one day when they had gone to visit her great-aunt for the summer. The old woman lived far away in a house on the outskirts of the forest, and all of the neighboring houses were spread out from each other a great distance. As their car drove by endless fields, she could already feel dread, but when they eventually reached the house, she looked out of the window and was amazed by what she saw.
By Patricia L.5 years ago in Fiction
