Latest Stories

Most recently published stories in Families.

Whatever Kind of Day it is
I wasn’t expecting a visitor. I open the door to find my youngest Olivia with an overflowing shopping bag and a small parcel in her arms.
By Abigail Smith5 years ago in Families
Now Helena is gone.
A tiny sparrow skittered along the warm concrete path infront of Frederich. It chittered sweetly, and tilted it's head from one side to another, looking up at the boy resting in stillness. It wasn't unlike Frederich to help others. But today he didn't quite feel like helping in the way he knew he would be asked. He sat quietly on the bench in the courtyard behind his father's office and looked at the small leather book in his lap. It was black, with thin cracks along the soft spine after many years of use. It was his diary and within the pages were details of his life he would never speak aloud, the naïve confessions and wishes of an eleven year old. He breathed in the warm August air deeply and let the smell of grass and apple blossom comfort him. He wanted to run to his bedroom to grab his favourite pen, to write down the many thoughts that were quickly overcrowding his head. Had he heard his uncle correctly? If his uncle kept pushing, then he would have to admit everything. Before this summer, he had been a companion to his aunt, Helena. She was blind, and Frederich had been her aid around the house since he was eight, and his father had seen him grow wistful as his older brother Karl paid him less attention than when they were younger. After school, he had spent countless hours reading to her, walking with her, describing her gardens and the weather, making her coffee. They had been like mother and son (his own mother having died after his birth), and her unexpected death that May had caused him the sharpest of heartaches imaginable. He had cried every night for months, but by late July he could hold his tears back if he wanted to. He thought back to what he heard his Uncle Peter say to his father this morning: “It can't just be 'lost' for crying out loud, Sam, you know it! You'll have to ask Freddie again, he's the one who spent the most time with her.” Frederich looked over his shoulder through the open doors into his father's office where his father was now, at his desk, quietly reading a letter with knotted brows and a hand holding his square chin. However much he loved, and feared, his father, he didn't think he could tell him the truth. His sister had been the only kindness in his father's hard life, and now she was gone; Frederich knew his father was changed. Squinting through the light thrown down on the cobblestones and grass of the courtyard at the small sundial ahead of him, Frederich observed it was nearly time for lunch. His stomach was in knots and he needed desperately to talk to Karl about the mounting guilt in his mind - he and his brother had been the only ones who knew she had the money. Karl, who was seventeen, clever and affable, had come to visit Helena one afternoon, whilst Frederich was reading (slowly, painfully) Dostoyevsky to her. He knew Karl liked to flit around the house and look in boxes, drawers and books. But he didn't think his brother would ever find anything exciting, until he did. One afternoon, a month before Helena's death, he'd found a small, plain, dark wooden box in a bureau dresser drawer, which made no noise when shaken, but was locked. Naturally he wanted to find the key, and a curious mind pushed him to search further, till he found the miniature brass key in a drawer below an envelope cubbyhole. Karl had thought he'd find some photographs, or a letter perhaps, not $20.000. He had thought it fake, never having seen dollar notes before, and almost laughed out loud to think why all of this cash would be locked in a box. But the notes were crinkled, dry and faded – not how you'd assume fake money to look. After talking discreetly to an older boy at the local post office, Karl had discerned that the American money was real, and confided so in Frederich. Frederich had confided in his diary. Together they joked over dreams of what they could do and buy if they changed the money or ran to America, but wondered how it had came to be, when their aunt didn't work and their uncle was just an accountant. Helena had never mentioned anything to him about America, no holidays there or far away friends across the sea. She'd only mentioned that Uncle Peter had once had a long business trip to Chicago. But she had also mentioned that the reason she and Uncle Peter didn't get along so well anymore was a 'difference in morals' – but Frederich has only understood that to mean that she disliked him smoking, and he thought she cussed too much, which she did. Neither of the boys liked their uncle Peter, with his scornful laughs and patronizing advice. They knew their father wasn't so keen on him either, and was bothered greatly by a more frequent presence of him since his sister's death. As soon as Helena had passed, the boys had discussed what would happen to the money – Frederich had been scared and thrilled to admit he wanted to hide it, much as Karl did. And it had been easy enough to do, no one suspected the usually honest brothers – Aunt Helena couldn't see, and Uncle Peter stayed out her living room even when he wasn't at work. It wasn't until they had heard their father and uncle talking about 'lost money' and a 'debt' that Frederich realized that they had what someone looking for. The thing was, Frederich knew that it was now with Karl. Karl who had ran away two months ago, telling noone, not even his brother, where he was going. The small bird that Frederich had been watching hopped away, and he imagined that maybe it knew how he felt, and was taking away some of his worries to wherever it flew next.
By Max Claire5 years ago in Families
Origami Boat
“Take this edge, here.” He said quietly, a soft crease around his eyes. “And fold it down, like that. And then you take this edge, here.” She watched as he folded the corners of the white paper. She had approached him, telling him she was bored, and he had told her he would make her a toy to play with. But this wasn’t a toy. This was a piece of paper, paper in which he folded time and time again.
By Kara Lane5 years ago in Families
THE CROAKING OF FROGS
I HAVE Oh! she was a princess. Although she was not a princess with a sceptre and a crown, with a kingdom of hers, with servants to wash her or cook her delicacies, she was but a maiden with the right to everything, for she was beautiful and fine, well-spoken and charismatic; or at least that was what they had always told Matilda.
By Sebastian Williams5 years ago in Families
Toxicity
As he paced behind me like a penitent heading to a confessional, the stairway became more narrow with each step. We were about to explore a luxury that we assumed most people of color couldn't afford, therapy. Contrarily, I was taught by a devout Catholic woman that therapy is for crazy people who don't have faith in God. If they had more faith, prayed a little more everyday and repented, they'd be delivered. Where to? I don't know, but I know my mom hadn't been delivered either because of her violent mood swings, profanity, and regular conversations with herself. Nonetheless, we had arrived here. Our relationship was defined by ten years of toxicity: lying, cheating, fighting, vandalism, addiction, jail and the list goes on. If this was judgement day, we felt only one of us was leaving for good.
By Kimberly D. Dantica5 years ago in Families
I Can’t Forget You
“Control your breathing. Fight your tears Derrick, you're ok”. The voice in my head was comforting and so loud but the news was even louder. The news was like an ongoing siren blaring the ugly truth. I sat stiff on the couch as my mother held my hands. Her lips were moving quickly explaining and filling in blanks, but I was stuck. Stuck on the words “Your mother is dead”. “One, three, fourteen, twelve...” counting usually helps me cope but at that time I couldn’t fully grasp what was real and what I was imagining. I started to see my face vanish from all the family photos that surrounded me in the living room. Faintly I heard myself whisper “What?” desperately needing clarification. My mother explained to me that I needed to meet my father in Jamaica to prepare for the funeral. I have been to Jamica several times because that is where my father is from. However, I still had no understanding to what was happening. I heard my mother Crystal say I was not adopted. She also said that she was still my mother and my father Thomas was indeed my biological father. All that information just added to my confusion. If Crystal says I'm not adopted and she is my mother then how did I have another mother that was dead?
By Monique Peck5 years ago in Families
Unexpected Connections
I sat on my bed, looking at the wooden box with its carvings and bronze latch closed tight on the chest of draws where it had been put two weeks ago by my eldest son. He had been fishing off the local rocks when his hook had caught on the hinge, the excitement in his voice as he wound the line in, expecting to see the fish of a life time not an old piece of trash, had soon turned to disgust when his mates became amused at his catch. Unlike his younger brother who was intrigued with any trinkets or unusual finds, Archer couldn’t have cared less. He had brought it home and threw it straight into the trash, had it not have been for the water running from the bottom of the apple bin and me going to investigate, the box and its mysterious contents would have been gone the next day.
By Alli 5 years ago in Families
Imprints
I stay in the sitting room while Janet’s lawyer, Mr. Huebner, opens the door to her children, Grace and Ben. “Well?” a woman’s voice travels down the hall.
By Ruth Macklin5 years ago in Families
Everlasting
The sound of his retching weighs heavily on my heart as I patiently rub his back with my hand. These last few months, I feel as though we have all fallen into a horrible routine. Wake up, eat, go to work, watch as my loving brother drinks away more of his soul, and repeat. I try and be there for him, but there isn't anything that I can do that will make that raw pain go away.
By Kerri-Anne Kendrick5 years ago in Families
A lifetime
"I do." The crowd cheered. Confetti was thrown. I could feel my heart beating out of my chest. I had finally married the love of my life. After all this time, of years of issues and breakups, of anniversaries and celebrations. We were finally married. I leaned in to kiss them.
By Rose Radu5 years ago in Families
Oh Mother
“Sam, it’s time to get up!! You’re late!! Again!!!” The sun is blinding, my head is pounding, and I haven’t had nearly enough sleep or coffee to start this day. “Five more minutes mom! Geez!” I spring up from the couch almost immediately at the realization of my words. I would never hear my mother’s voice again. Because today was the day that I would bury my mother. My seemingly healthy, neurotic, overbearing, beautiful mother. “I’m sorry Liza,” I manage to croak out between sobs. “It’s ok Sam. We knew this day was going to come and we knew it wouldn’t be easy. But mom would hate it if we were late. Let’s get a move on.” “Did we Liza? Know this day was coming? I mean, maybe eventually, but now? Mom was healthier than both of us! She ate well. She walked everywhere. She never even took the elevator if there were stairs for crying out loud.” Tears were streaming down my face as I yell at my sister who I know us barely keeping it together. Liza was so much closer to mom than I was. Truthfully, Liza was always more like my mother than my big sister. But I could never say that to either of them. “I can’t do this with you today Sam! We have to get going. I’ll meet you at the church. There is a package for you on the table. Just got here. I’ve got to go!” And with that, my sister was gone. I run to the bathroom and take the quickest shower I’ve ever taken in this house. I get dressed and as I wander through the kitchen I see a package on the table. There’s nothing special about it. It looks like someone used a brown paper bag as wrapping paper. My name is written out on the cover, ‘SAM’. I don’t recognize the handwriting. It’s not my birthday. And thanks to the divorce, no more anniversary’s for me. I didn’t think to ask Liza if she saw who dropped it off. No matter. I’m late. I grab the package and my keys. I make it out the door before I slam into a solid, tall, and quite muscular tank of a man on my way out. He chuckles I stumble back trying to catch my bearings. “I’m so sorry for the intrusion. I’m looking for Ms. Winters.” “You’re a few days too late. We bury her today. You’re more than welcome to say a proper goodbye at the church downtown,” and with that I’m off. I start the car and throw the package in the passenger seat. I wonder if Mr. Tall and Mysterious, and who am I kidding, unbelievably handsome, will show up there. More importantly, how did he know my mother? I probably should’ve asked. Before I know it, I’m at the church. And it is packed. I knew mom was well knows in our small town, but who would’ve ever thought she’d pack the church? If she could only see it now, she would love this! My mom loved being the talk of the town. We were completely different in that aspect. I tried to be invisible, and that lady made it her mission to know everyone. The funeral dragged on, of course. So many people, expressing their condolences. So many unfamiliar faces, telling me what my mother meant to them. It was far too much. I’d only gotten into town the day before yesterday, when my sister called me and told my mother had died of a heart attack and the funeral was the following day. No notice. No autopsy. No goodbye. Nothing. I make my way to the car just slump over the steering wheel, balling my eyes out. When I’m finally done and completely exhausted, I lean back and look out the window. I notice the package is still sitting there. I guess now is as good a time as any, let’s just get this over with. I open the package and stare at it completely dumbfounded. There are stacks of hundreds, neatly separated and rubber banded just sitting there. ON top sits a little black book. I look through it to see if there is anything that can tell me who sent this and why on earth it was given to me. I can make out my mother’s handwriting on several of the pages, but the writing on one page catches my attention. It’s different. And there’s nothing on any of the pages after this one. So I flip back to that page and am utterly shocked by what it says. “Meet me at the library at 6, in the back and come alone Sam or you’ll end up like you’re mom.” I don’t know what to do. Maybe I should tell Liza. Maybe not. She’d never believe me. And this is so much money! I’ve never seen this much money. I can’t be here! I drive back to my mom’s. Nobody else is here yet. I’m contemplating what I should do. Its 5 now and the library isn’t far from here. How much is here? Against my better judgement, I start to count the money. $20,000. Who the heck would leave me this kind of money? And what happened to my mom? How was she involved? ‘I’ll end up like my mom?’ It’s almost 6 now, and I have more questions than answers, but I have to know. And more importantly, I have to stay alive. I put the package in my bag and run out to the car, throwing it in the backseat. As I drive to the library I groan and ask the one person who is no longer here to answer me, “OH, mom, what did you do now?”
By Deanna5 years ago in Families
Who else is digging lock down
I am what you call an introvert, always loved my own company and always wondered why some people just loved being around other people. Lock down for some is a nightmare, missing their loved ones and worrying about the dire strate the world is in since COVID 19. It's 2021 I am sure I am not the only one to have underestimated how long this was going to last. Nothing seems to be stopping for now and who knows how long it will continue. I empathise with the ones out there affected by lock down it must be very difficult not seeing family members. I on the otherhand love this about lock down it keeps my family at bay, a bit extreme some might say but you haven't met my family. Remember the TV show back in 2004 called Shameless, about a single dad on benefits with loads of kids trying to scam a living anyway they could. Well... thats my family no way are they having my address so they can show me up on my own door step. No my neighbours need saved from that believe me!! My brother said once, "Shell we should take mum on Jeremy Kyle and expose her" I was like "No way thats my worst fear" he was all for it even tried wasting his breath on trying to persuade me to change my mind. I was a nurse, can you imagine all my patients faces as I stood at their bedside to hand them their morning medication to look at me to then realise thats the person on TV. Nope thank you very not I will save my dignity and keep my life to myself not broadcast it to the world. My brother huffed and puffed and tried to blow my house down but he failed miserably. He felt hard done by and wanted payment for his suffering and was assessing all avenues available to him. I mean all avenues even if it meant he made a fool of himself in front of a full audience. I am not saying that's what people did on the show it was a fact I knew about my brother. He is something else. He saw he was getting no where with that idea and gave up asking, his next one was "Shell let's take mum to the newspapers" I was like "Not this again" my ears instantly wanted to close down any hint of his agenda against my mother. I chose to rise above that hence why I lived in an unknown location at an unknown address, only a very select few know where I live and it is staying like that. If I want to see my family I would visit them which was rarely to be honest. I am different from them in every way so its nice to do normal stuff but know lock down disbales them of the feel sorry for me phrase they normally use on me, they know its against guidelines so they can't say nothing and don't I know it. Hence why I am loving lock down no one can come to my door and not being able to visit my mum suits me fine I can chill at home blissfully and wouldn't change it for the world. I wasn't always so anti social it just gradually grew as I chopped toxic people from my life, it left me how I love it, on my own except for my partner that is. See someone might look at me and feel sad or think I may get lonely through having no friends it doesn't bother me at all. In fact I am faced with less drama, I have found in my experience that the more people in my life the more drama it causes. I am too old for that shit, no my life is much better with less people hence why I am digging the lock down rules I'm like "YEAH" "you can't get me" say that and imagine someone doing the Carlton Dance from Fresh Prince of Bellair then you will know the vibe I'm feeling. I am taking full advantage of the lock down and staying inside, even shut all the blinds except all the back windows google Falkland Hill and you will see why, stunning and many hours of entertainment for me during lock down. Events like this make you look at the world and appreciate what you have around you and how lucky you really are. That is how I feel anyway when I look outside, I breath it in. I do understand why people don't like being alone like I do, must be scary being stuck in your own household with no contact from family or friends from outside. It is important we try keep eachother safe, I am doing my bit without even trying as I prefer it, if it was the other way I am not sure my opinion would remain the same. My best friend prefers company, she gets anxious on her own and more than a week her mentle health starts to deteriorate, thank the lord for ipads and video call apps at least you can still see people even if you can't be around them. I often wonder about poorer regions that don't have this kind of technology it must be hard for them. I am just doing what I normally do and go about my day with minimum contact from people. My best friend understands why I am the way I am and never makes me feel bad for months with no contact its who I am and she is fine with that. I know she has good friends and supportive family around her at her end so know she is cared for. She has her partner I am grateful to him as if he was not there I am not sure how she would cope with lock down. I want COVID 19 to end like everyone else but not because I am struggling with lock down I want it to end to protect human life, it seems though that is not on the cards yet, who knows what the future holds it will end one day, until then I will enjoy my peace as I know that too can't last forever.
By Michelle King5 years ago in Families