Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Motivation.
Always turn the Page
As the seasons change the new day brought warm temperatures accompanied by bright sun beams shining over the mountain side slowly working its way down into the bottom of the valley where the city of Tucson sits. On the south side of this town in a small lower class trailer park neighborhood a bedroom window has been cracked open by fifteen-year-old Rose who then takes in a big whiff of the fresh spring breeze. With a smile on her face she turned on the radio and started to sing and dance along to the music while debating on what to wear before doing her hair and finally concluding her routine with some light make up that included mascara, eyeliner, and lip gloss. What had started off as a great morning was unfortunately about to be flipped upside down by the simple sound of a car door being slammed shut from the driveway because for Rose this was the same as an alarm going off advising that trouble was headed her way. The music she had previously been pouring her heart out to has now faded into the background and has been replaced with the pounding of heart. All the happiness disappeared in the blink of an eye and has now become extreme anxiety resulting in sweaty palms, trembling legs as well as the feeling of having difficulty to breath. She quickly sat down in front of her bedroom mirror to attempt to pull herself together so that she could then mentally prepare herself for the nightmare she knew was about to walk through the front door.
By Nyda Sainz6 years ago in Motivation
Nicinville
I didn’t choose this. But I guess nobody chooses how their life goes. We all get a hand of cards to play, some are lucky and get a flush, most like me get nothing and leave with nothing. But hey we take whatever we can and do the best with it. When I was five years old my mom dropped me off at an Orphanage, “Saint Paula’s home for children” wasn’t a bad place but it certainly wasn’t for me. The children's home made me leave when I was eighteen, not like I didn’t plan to anyways. Today, my landlord kicked me out of my little neat house. I guess no one is sympathetic enough to let someone stay when they haven’t paid rent for three months. I had a minimum wage job, can you guess it? Yes, a waitress cliché I know. But it seems like renting a house was only meant for the wealthy. I’ve been trying to fit in anyway a single twenty-five-year-old orphan can. Though with my luck I should have seen this coming. All of my things are gone, even my notebook. Now I only have my old, rustic backpack, and a ripped, rugged, tan jacket with its impossible to zip zipper and all it’s glory. I know I have nowhere to go and no place to sleep. So I started walking without a destination, it seems like I never have a destination.
By Summer Jordan6 years ago in Motivation
Back to the Heart
It had been a month since Brenda had visited Sol in the visions. She visited often to deliver hugs, guidance, and words of strength. Sol thought about her all the time, in moments of despair, when she saw butterfly’s, and especially when she got the goosebumps. Today, on a day when she felt the weight of the world on her shoulders, she thought of her words.
By Blair Engberg6 years ago in Motivation
Galle or Yalle
I run my fingers around the rim of the bowl and feel for irregularities imperceivable to the naked eye. Even something as innocuous as a tiny nick – a so called “fleabite,” will affect the value. I had spotted the bowl from several tables away at the flea market, the sunlight of the open field catching the floral engravings meticulously cut into the sides. It had been placed precariously near the edge of the small, folding card table to anchor the tablecloth from billowing in the early morning breeze. Turning the bowl over in my hands I can tell by the weight and brilliance that it is made with lead. Ancient alchemists, with their Quixotic efforts to turn base metals into gold, would have been dazzled by the chemical marvels of nineteenth century glassmaking. By adding lead as a purifying agent to glass, this toxic, dull metal transformed this, fragile, hazy material to a crystalline so clear that instead of shadows, it casts rainbows. A material that, when gently struck, rings like an ethereal silver bell. I gently ping the side of the bowl with my finger and hear the sweet, high-tone reverberation. It is not an idle action, nor is it a sentimental one. The ringing is a reassurance that I haven’t accidentally overlooked any cracks or damage hidden in the intricacy of the engraved pattern.
By Brijiana6 years ago in Motivation
Comfortable in My Own Moleskine
I fumble around desperately in my shoulder bag for my little black book and a pen, as I often do when inspiration strikes, tossing things aside frantically before the moment passes. In the back of my mind, there is always a distinct sense of anxiety that my sacred book could be missing from my bag altogether, laying bare my shame for whomever was destined to find it.
By Amy Piccinino6 years ago in Motivation
The Little Black Book
As I sat there on an afternoon waiting for the bus to take me to work, I had reflected on the night before. The stress and worries that I had on all the upcoming bills like every other month and wondered how I was going to pay all of them off again. Something overcame me that there was a solution and it would come across my life almost like magic. I shook that feeling or thought off and continued on my morning previously and that is how I arrived at the bus stop. As I sat there something inside my head told me to look to the side of the bench to the left of me.
By Avril Doucette6 years ago in Motivation
Turning Pages to a Dream
Turning Pages to a Dream Hanzila excitedly sat up in bed and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Today was about to be one of the most pivotal moments in her life. Immediately Hanzila walked over to her small desk, eagerly thrusting her black notebook open and jotted down the date in the upper-righthand corner, "August 6th, 2010." She writes, "Dear Diary... Today is the day that I make my escape to a happier life!"
By Kirsten Porter6 years ago in Motivation
The Weave of Dreams
Listening to Masterclass, Atlas drifted in and out of a daze as the train chugged along. Every few minutes he’d regain focus, retrieving a gem from the class but, deep down, he knew it was pointless. It wasn’t the lectures. He simply knew they were meant to help real artists. Not him, another failed cartoonist gone corporate lackey in order to pay the rent.
By Propaganda Poet6 years ago in Motivation
The Book of Intuition
Her paintbrush has come to the last strokes of what is left of the spruce blue. It was the perfect mix of the only two colors of five-ounce oil paint she could afford to buy. Her face begins to fill with mere disappointment as she glances upon her uncompleted canvas facing just beside the bedroom window. “Canvas number two hundred and fourteen,” she writes on the lower left-hand corner. She places it amongst the others in a line. Two hundred and fourteen canvases all with the same exact landscape. Her bedroom sits perfectly below the far galaxy that holds the gazing stars and crescent moon. It is the only canvas she has ever come to know since she was banished to her room by her father for all of eternity. It has always seemed like the normal way of life to her, until one day the stars of her fate guided her path to liberation in a way that only the Gods can explain.
By Erin Fallon6 years ago in Motivation
Pity Party
Birthdays were the worst days. Says me at age 22. During my childhood it sucked even more. Due to my living situation I was forced to celebrate my birthday months after my “special day” because that stupid day was 10 days after Christmas. No one ever made me feel special so it’s a massive pity party every single time. Tell me now; why’d I always have to be forgotten? Why’d I never have friends to even invite to my lame parties? They were lame because they were shared parties with my two older siblings and as much as I love them both I’ve never felt as though things were meant for me or that I deserved to be celebrated. Especially because they had their friends there for them and I did not have friends at all at the time to even invite.
By Keanna Barry 6 years ago in Motivation
Where It Begins
With both hands clutched tightly to the wheel she drove the winding road to town, past the places she used to spend her days in a time before the world was forced to take a collective breath and sigh. She could smell the jasmine flowers along the park fence as she pulled into the parking lot. She grabbed her backpack from the passenger seat and with a push of her foot the door slammed shut, igniting a stream of tears.
By Alyssa Benedetto6 years ago in Motivation
