Biography
The bumpy road of my life.
The year is 1983 and it´s August and I begin second grade in my new school. It was a big class, 32 pupils with me! We only had one teacher, but she was so good at holding us together and staying calm, so we had good learning lessons. Every grade had 3 parallels so you can understand the school was quite big, all from a daycare center to the 9th grade.
By Sylvette Bergius Demircan2 years ago in Chapters
Time
I had two choices: Cry a bit longer and risk the whites of my eyes and puffiness around not having enough time to go back to normal, or push the feelings aside and try to focus on something else. The former would have made sense. I had about 20 minutes until my clients would arrive - 5 more minutes to cry, 5 minutes to fix my makeup and 10 minutes to put the mask back on, with its painted smile across it.
By Sabrina Rupolo2 years ago in Chapters
Summer Dreams
The extreme temperature of my first memorable summer was unusually humid for our area of Indiana, driving the heat index up into almost the 100’s. There hadn’t been much rain that year and it showed. Mrs. Shultz from next door couldn’t keep her prize roses alive long enough to compete in the garden club’s annual floral competition but to her credit, most of the other gardeners in the area were experiencing worse issues than she was.
By Veronica Coldiron2 years ago in Chapters
The Time of Our Lives
Growing up poor gave me a unique perspective on entertainment. One summer, a local radio station hosted Tuesday night $1.50 carloads at the drive-in for anyone sporting sing their bumper sticker. So, mom, (queen of pranks and scare tactics), loaded the station wagon with bags of popcorn and coolers of tea, together with plastic tumblers from home.
By Veronica Coldiron2 years ago in Chapters
Klaatu Barada Nikto
To the casual observer, Veronica Rennie and I were opposites – she was the beauty, and I was the beast. But Veronica was one of the few women I dated in the 1980s (or any other time) who was a friend, not just a girlfriend. She said one reason she loved me was because I was the only person who could make her forget she suffered from manic depression.
By Michael Jefferson2 years ago in Chapters
Bullied into Submission
When I realised I was the victim of subtle bullying, I was over forty, divorced and raising two boys without any financial assistance from their father. I wasn't too sure what to do or who to turn to. The belief I was one of life's failures was firmly entrenched.
By Diana K Robinson2 years ago in Chapters
Writing Prompts for October. Content Warning.
As the passes on turn shades of red and gold and a fresh breeze consumes the space, October introduces a time of motivation for scholars. Whether you're a trying writer, a carefully prepared scholar, or somebody who basically partakes in the restorative demonstration of putting pen to paper or fingers to console, this month offers a gold mine of composing open doors. To assist you with leaving on an innovative excursion, we've gathered a rundown of tempting October composing prompts that will light your creative mind and set your imaginative energies pumping.
By Shan Bhatti2 years ago in Chapters
I Was Somebody’s Dusty Son. Content Warning.
At the heart of my adolescent turmoil, during those precarious years of middle school, there exists a chapter of my life that has remained— inscribed with indelible ink. To be honest every year leading up to, and since has had its own stand out moments. This is just a chapter I’ve often hesitated to revisit— not solely because of its intrinsic pain but because of the irrevocable mark it left on my self-perception.
By Dan-O Vizzini2 years ago in Chapters
Slice of Life: The Pizza Boy's Journey
Once upon a time in the bustling city of Brooklyn, there lived a young man named Tony. He wasn't a typical 20-year-old trying to find his place in the world. Tony was the "pizza boy." This wasn't just an ordinary title; It was a badge of honor in his family, passed down through the generations.
By MD Arbaz Hussain2 years ago in Chapters
