Latest Stories

Most recently published stories in Families.

You'll always be my baby, Little Bear
Walking around this old house felt refreshing. This home was where Maggie grew up, raised by her great-aunt Fay. Fay was particularly fond of Maggie despite having many children of her own. The favouritism didn’t go unnoticed, but Maggie was the one who graciously took Fay in when she began to suffer from Dementia later in life. Fay passed away quietly last winter, leaving to Maggie this old house and everything in it. This house was full of warm memories for Maggie and her son Nathan. When Maggie came by with the lawyer to sign paperwork, she realized that she hadn’t been inside for many years. As she walked around, she noticed that Fay’s children had taken much of the old furniture and valuables already. But that’s not what made this place special to her.
By Carly Blanchette5 years ago in Families
Do You Feel Loved?
I placed myself in a precarious position. What I still consider to be an act of brilliance could, on any evening, turn on me with a vengeance. If my idea were to backfire on me, it would mean a sleepless night and a great deal of soul searching. While my plan could be potentially hurtful, I urge any men reading this to be brave and test drive it. If you are honest and care for your significant other this could bring you closer than you have ever imagined.
By Dale Austin 5 years ago in Families
Pros and Cons
Pros:...let’s face it...that’s a lot of money. Cons: Let’s face it...your father has been buried for a month. Pros: Sure...sure, but the money’s not coming from him. And with that money, all $20,000, I could pay off the rest of my debts--$15,000--and I wouldn’t have to risk my neck making deliveries anymore. I wouldn’t have to assume that risk of being caught by police. I wouldn’t have to worry about hauling unmarked bags and parcels all over town, sometimes being attacked with the objects I’ve delivered. Since I took this job I’ve started grinding my teeth. Kay kicks me out of bed now. I brought up the risk to the boss, and she didn’t care.
By Patrick St. Amand5 years ago in Families
Passion for Pie
“Ma’am, you’re welcome to stay with me while I clean up, but I’m going to lock the door because we close at 2. Let me get you some coffee or tea, on the house,” Amelia said to the glammed-up woman with shoulder-length silver curls. She had been sitting at the corner table in Amelia’s coffee shop since about 11 o’clock that morning.
By Meg J5 years ago in Families
Little Black Book
LITTLE BLACK BOOK “You must take it... just take it! This is your last chance, our last chance! NOW TAKE IT!!! FOR YOUR SAKE TAKE IT!!!
By Pete Smyth5 years ago in Families
To catch a break
The mother obeys the playful tumble of candlelight as it beckons her into the muggy room, and she breathes. Deeply. Her lungs are coated by the scent of lavender bath oil that it feels like all new mums are given, combined with burning wicks and melting wax. Her eyes relax and soften in the dimmed light. Her skin begins to prickle.
By Sarah Emmerson5 years ago in Families
The Legacy
1. The Will I exited the lawyer’s office quickly, whisking myself out of my chair at the back of the oak-walled room and striding ahead of Father to avoid any talk, or, more likely, criticism. “See I told you that she wouldn't leave you anything, you are a disappointment to both of us”, Father shouted after me. I did not need to turn around to know the slow, cruel smirk which would be growing across his sagged face. Mother was gone and finally free of him, and that gave me strength, stopping myself from any sign of a tear. It was a tragedy that it took death for her to escape.
By Deborah Williams5 years ago in Families
Burden Upon Inheritance
“Crocodile tears.” I thought as I watched my stepmother, Rose Vincent, cry over my father’s open casket. She was very obviously a gold digger but dear old dad was too blind to see her for what she was, a money-sucking parasite. As I walked over to pay my final respects a hand tugged at my sleeve I whipped around already furious at my father’s death. Not to my surprise, it was Marc, my friend since birth and my only ally since my father remarried. "Cora..." he started but never finished I pulled him into a hug, fast, as for him to not see me cry. "It's going to be alright okay?" he said softly "and hey since he can't pay for Rose's 2 sizes to small corsets and petticoats she'll probably scamper back into whatever cave she crawled out of." a small ha was all I was able to get out. As church bells rang overhead, Marc and everyone headed into the church for the will reading and I followed close behind.
By avaleigh price5 years ago in Families
Under the Aspen Tree
ASPEN TREE : tree of heroes / shield tree / power to visit the underworld and return safely / all roots connect WISHBONE : “little fork” / formed by the fusion of two clavicles / primary function is the strengthening of the thoracic skeleton to withstand the vigor of flight / lifting the wings during the recovery stroke
By Angela Grillo5 years ago in Families
Flowers for Juliet
The knot of his black silk tie was exceptionally tight. He wore them so seldomly it was an alien sensation, the unrelenting grip of the hangman’s noose. The service at the small church had been solemn and respectful. He had wished for her some rays of sun that would not arrive. Numb in the sea of well-wishers and friends, their words were blending into the same mantra. He wanted only to escape and find refuge. The key now in the door, he turned off the telephone and the full weight of his body found a cracked leather chair. He gazed at the carpet, the clock on the wall, the ceiling. Anywhere but the foreboding stack of bills on the coffee table. There was much to be done but he was devoid of any motivation to move. It was the deafening silence that finally shifted him forward. How could so small a place, feel so empty? He asked himself. He paced and then remembered the tie. He could do away with it now, he had nearly forgotten. He tapped his pipe and struck a match. She always hated that he smoked, but always loved the smell. He would make great dramatic fanfare of it and don the cardigan she had made him for Christmas so long ago. He began to remove the items from her bureau drawer, carefully arranging things into neat little piles that began to form around him. The photos and slides were placed face down, eclipsed by the coupons. There were reminders for doctor’s appointments and the matching invoices stapled to them. He had never dealt with the bills, she had taken it into her hands even before the accident robbed them of so very much. She had kept her grandmother’s jewelry box on the bureau, opening it very occasionally, perhaps once or twice a year. The tune of ‘Swan Lake’ creaked out of the old box and filled the room. He watched the tiny ballerina, twirling carelessly in her pink dress and her tiny smile. Her world shrunken, like so many dreams. The box was always a very private, intimate thing and he had never dared to look inside of it. He delicately pushed the various costume necklaces and rings aside to reveal a small, very weathered black leather book. The first page contained phone numbers and addresses of long-lost friends and relatives. As he flipped through, something escaped onto the floor. It was a bank statement dated two weeks prior, the line balance was $20,000 even, no cents. He once again collapsed into the chair, doing his utmost to keep breathing. He must have been mistaken. He looked at it again, studying the date and the amount. He held his hand to his chest to stop his heart from escaping. He held it up in the light and could see pen strokes on the backside of the paper. She had simply written the words, ‘For us’. His trembling hands cupped his face and he could no longer cope with the strain of containing himself. His body convulsed, giving way to a river of tears. He looked at the coffee table, knowing that he would be free of its horrors. At that thought, he felt stabbing pangs of guilt. She was still looking after him, even from the beyond. It was a gift of freedom that she would never taste. He wiped his eyes, he could see in the mirror’s reflection that he was a red, swollen mess. He smiled, perhaps for the first time in ages. He clutched the tiny statement in his weary palm, for he could finally buy some beautiful flowers for Juliet.
By Jon Rooke5 years ago in Families
Brother Bond
The cover was black and soft, a leather bound journal of the type found on many store shelves. The elastic band meant to hold the book closed had snapped at the bottom; it was being used as a bookmark. The ribbon was frayed on the end, the pages were stained with watermarks and signs of extensive travel.
By Artiste Syl5 years ago in Families
Upcycled
Pip, a boy of 15, hated his grandparent's loft. It was a stagnant freezer in winter and dusty besides. A tiny hole in the corner of the roof caused a constant draught making it feel as though than the world outside.
By Ricky Elliott5 years ago in Families