Memoir
Year five - melancholy
When I felt particularly sad, which in those days was often, I would fantasise about breaking up with M. Depending on the specific flavor of melancholy accompaning me at any given moment, these imaginings would vary in style in content, but they always had an air of inevitablity and irreversibility that seemed to choke me whenever I thought of him.
By Tess V. Flaire2 years ago in Chapters
Me and Natasha: Excerpt
Context: My ass was named Natasha by a childhood friend of mine because it is so big it was its own person. Assess are useful, so I will never call anyone who made me feel like shit as a teenager an ass. I will, however, call them everything else. Natasha was not the only part of my body that attracted attention, but she was the star of the show. Frankly, even I was just supporting cast, especially to teenage boys and men.
By C.M. Vazquez2 years ago in Chapters
The Hardest Chapter of My Life
There it was, what felt like the end of an era for me, but it was simply one chapter finishing. In a short four years I had been shaped into a man and hardened and haunted by war. What I thought would be a lifelong career ended with more pain and bitterness than I knew how to handle. I had chosen to finish out my military contract and go my separate way. Always holding on to the dream of going to college and becoming an archaeologist, but I was unprepared for the next chapter of my life.
By Matthew Mccahey2 years ago in Chapters
Dreaming of Electric Sheep. Runner-Up in Chapters Challenge.
I do not have dreams. In the literal sense. Obviously, I have my delusions of grandeur, my dreams of one day having something I've written be held in high esteem by somebody with no real vested interest in my life other than I'm the cool weirdo artist they've been obsessed with for some reason. I want my farm with my goats and to never have to look at another computer again. I want to sit on the porch and play guitar and have a big ol' Mead Hall thing that acts as sort of a private club/social venue. I want to provide a space for people like me, who are bad at stuff, so we can be bad at stuff together but in a way where the, like, 2 things we're good at end up being really useful. I have THOSE kinds of dreams.
By Aaron Richmond2 years ago in Chapters
A City Divided by the Danube
Transportation in Budapest was better than anything I’d have ever hoped. Growing up in Utah, part of the “great” American West expansion, I’d experienced life from cars, cars, and more cars. Urban, rural, and suburban sprawl was the name of the game. Bikes were at best a hobby or short-range transportation from, I don’t know, one friend's house to the next, if you were willing to climb the steep hills of rural Elk Ridge. In college, I managed to live in an apartment close to campus, so rode my bike regularly, but shopping had to be done by vehicle. Not in Hungary. Between the tram, bus, and subway system, everything was accessible and affordable–so long as grouchy ticket patrols didn’t question your exchange student status. As great as the transit is, Budapest truly opened up to me when I bought a bicycle.
By Christopher Michael2 years ago in Chapters
The Long and Winding Road
A chapter from my memoir. It was December 1975, a few days before Christmas, when the boss told us all to go to the 'Fill ya Boots' pub at lunchtime. He said that he had a very nice surprise for us all as a thank you for all of our hard work. We presumed that he was going to give us all a well-deserved and much-needed cash bonus.
By Liam Ireland2 years ago in Chapters
Oveda Nash Alder
You bettered my life without me even realizing it. You were like a mother to me, my safe harbor. I always struggled with my mom's drinking growing up, she was not a pleasant drunk. But your home was always there as a safe refuge. I would stay over there as often as possible, even though as a child it could be quite the boring routine, I did not mind because it brought me comfort.
By Tressa Rose2 years ago in Chapters
Cow tales: Story of Bonzy
Cows make the best pets, an unconventional notion, but one that rings profoundly true. Their noble disposition, gentle giants with a touch of majesty yet grounded humility, they are simply the best companions, if you can overlook their enormous size.
By Temjenungla Imchen2 years ago in Chapters
The Sand Pit
I can’t possibly write about my life without mentioning the sand pit. Across the white sandy road I grew up on, there was a vast field of weeds we called the "Great Waste". Tall clusters of yellow and green weeds swayed in the summer sun for as far as the eye could see. On the other side was another road; one with sparkling beach-white sand, leading down to a sand pit.
By Veronica Coldiron2 years ago in Chapters
