Everyday since we were younger, I never saw this guy like Sam. Money could never buy how much I enjoyed being with him. I would always get the high when I was around him. Us together when we were younger we’re the worst of the two. We hated each others guts in other words, but there was something about this guy that I needed to finale with. Overtime one day I was hiding behind this tree and Sam had a tux on, I asked him is there a special lady your possibly seeing by now he said yeah💗~YOU! I Blushed
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Rachael’s Memoir
Hi my name is Rachael and this is my reflection piece/memoir about how each idea led me back right here to where I am. I , when I was younger I was in foster care. I had only gotten in there because I told Mr.Wright who was my counselor at the time, I felt unsafe at home and that I felt like running away. By the time I’d gotten there it was a very different atmosphere. It was a tall thick blonde lady . I honestly thought she was a German girl. The for me to get home was a dream I shortly learned when I asked for a pb and jelly sandwich and she had it crowbar locked! I felt odd. I felt oddly. I felt curiously out of place. It was ‘relief’straight when I was taken back to my moms place because I remember going to 3 foster care homes. Later on in life I realized I was going to be alright when I saw her at the ice rink for the last time.
By Rachael FrazierExclusive • 3 months ago
Our Song
Evening has given way to night. Gently, I settle next to you on the comfortable, old love seat and reach for your hand. You snatch it away, again. It cuts me to the quick, but I hide the pain, understanding that the reaction is but part of your demented state. Since the accident, your presence here in our cozy home has been clouded by a haze I can't see. Nevertheless, I feel the frigidity of your expressions and it serves as an excruciating reminder of the immeasurable distance between us.
By Dana Crandell5 days ago in Fiction
Jars
Jim sat in his favorite rocker, beams of late afternoon sun draped over his lap instead of stabbing him in the eyes like on Billy’s side of the porch. He twirled a lollipop between his fingers, occasionally popping it in his mouth. He’d been doing this since he stopped smoking. The young’uns didn’t remember the cloud of Pall Mall that used to shroud his face as he told his tales. The kids were playing in the yard and under the porch, out of the September heat in the cool sand, sun shining between the shadows of the slats. Presently, a grubby face appeared over Jim’s shoulder. The kids wanted to go down to the creek to play.
By Harper Lewis6 days ago in Fiction
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