family
Family unites us; but it's also a challenge. All about fighting to stay together, and loving every moment of it.
Violet’s Black Book
The automatic doors of the hospital swished open, blasting Violet’s face with warm air. She marched through the entrance, heading directly for the ICU, smoothing her hair, which reflected, raven-blue, under the fluorescent lights. She felt buzzing dry electricity of winter prickling through her. Vi was wearing black, as always—a black turtleneck, tucked into black pants, and a long black sweater that trailed out behind her as she walked—like Dracula’s cape, a witch, or a New Yorker.
By Marika Lynn5 years ago in Humans
The Comeuppance
"Oh. I do like your notebook. Yes. Very petite et bijou, one might say." Reggie shifted in her seat, puffed up with pleasure as if it were she who was petit et bijou (she was NOT). Reggie's peculiarities included accepting compliments on items she'd purchased or obtained as if they were items she'd crafted herself or as if she'd conquered some extraordinary challenge, like qualifying for the Olympics. Still, she had allowed me to persuade her into signing up for this amateur writing workshop so I wouldn't feel self-conscious about attending alone. My mother used to say that good friends are always of service, and I have to say, I agreed.
By Helen Havlin O'Reilly5 years ago in Humans
The Will to Give
Tessa saw her sister before her sister saw her. The red Accord, passed down from their older cousin, usually stood out as the only car from its era still on the road. Watching Corrine cross the parking lot toward the diner, Tessa straightened up her table. Angled the laptop screen as if she hadn’t been slouching. Piled all the used napkins onto her crumb-covered plate and pushed it to the edge of the table. Closed her black notebook and snapped the elastic around it, arranging it parallel to the computer.
By Julia Forrester5 years ago in Humans
The Half Penny
Darlene walked through the door with a heavy feeling in her chest. The house was empty and dark. She couldn’t believe that her grandma Dorothy was really gone. Dorothy raised Darlene since she was just 9 years old after her parents got killed by a drunk unlicensed driver on their wedding anniversary. They were on their way to the airport for a romantic trip to Paris... Even though she was just a child, Darlene was old enough to know what had happened and it broke her heart forever. She only had her grandmother for most of her life and loved her more than anyone in the world. Losing her was truly devastating. The past few years had been a series of hardship and misfortune for Darlene. She was in the middle of a divorce after being married for 6 years. She also lost a child to a stillbirth a couple years back. Darlene sank deeply in depression, making her unable to work, so she left her job as a school principle.
By Daniela Dimitrova5 years ago in Humans
Color Theory
The first splash of color was always the hardest. Roy had been a hobbyist painter for what had become his longest love affair—twenty years and counting—but every time he faced a new blank canvas, there was a shyness to the way he would first begin to dribble paint across the white face before him. It was new, it was exciting, but there was also the undercurrent of worry: would this in fact be the painting that broke him?
By Jillian Spiridon5 years ago in Humans
Rosa’s Choice
Until two weeks ago, Rosa has always slept so deeply that her Abuela accuses her of stealing sleep from the dead. Accused, she corrects mentally. Past tense. Where exactly does correcting grammar fall on the five stages of grief? She doesn’t know. She only knows that the sun is about to kiss the horizon and begin another sweltering day in her corner of the desert, and that Abuela is not here to see it.
By Jackson Eaton5 years ago in Humans
Vicarious
Vicarious My tired eyes awoke to the peeling paint on my bedroom wall being illuminated by the rising sun. The humid air dampened my lungs and provoked a coughing attack. I stumbled for my oxygen mask but couldn’t muster the strength. My mother barged in and frantically attempted to get the mask in position, most mornings were like this now. The worst part wasn’t the pain I felt, but rather the fear in my mother’s eyes. Her fear used to come and go but lately her panic didn’t seem to leave her. My coughing attack ended and I convinced my mother to leave, trying desperately to hold onto what little independence hadn’t been stripped away from me. Whatever hope my family had died last year when we found out the deductible to join an experimental treatment program in Texas was $20 000 American dollars, I don’t think my parents even had $20 000 pesos. My father worked twice as hard to make up for my mother being stuck at home babysitting me all day but that still left us living below the poverty line. It was hard enough as is to get ahead in Mexico, let alone with a liability for a daughter. My parents often thought of immigrating to America but with my condition, chances of us getting approved for residency was low and the taxpayers there can barely pay for their own medical treatment let alone the treatment for an immigrant. I’m sure the thought of illegally immigrating crossed their minds before but between my impairment and carrying an oxygen tank, I’m not sure how sneaky we could be.
By Gracie Evans 5 years ago in Humans
Hidden Truths
I stared down at the dirt. The many emotions felt like a hurricane inside of me and I just wished it would calm down. My brother was too young to die at only 27 years old. The police said he was shot and everything was still under investigation. I couldn't understand how there was a person evil enough to shoot Daniel. He was the kindest most loving person I had ever known.
By Shannon Pitzner5 years ago in Humans
A Growth Story
Part I: Prelude to an opuscule As the dawn began to break, I opened my eyes at the usual 5:30am. I made my way down the narrow flight of stairs to the main living area of my walk-up maisonette in central Amsterdam. The serene stillness of the early mornings captivated me in ways only a hopeless romantic would understand, as the birds began to chirp their morning song.
By Sherrann Thiessen5 years ago in Humans
The Burning Secret
There’s this reoccurring dream. It started back when I first got the house and the money. Looking back, it wasn't much, but enough to matter. Plus, looking around this place, it's chock-full of memories. My favorite has to be right here in the kitchen. A little tot was lifted up by dad and sat on the quartz countertop to eat some grilled cheese sandwiches. The smile on that little ones face, that feeling is unforgettable.
By Trevor Purcell5 years ago in Humans
