Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Families.
Last One Standing
There was only one move left for him to win, his eyes sparkled with mischief. He looked down at his cards, and then over at his opponent. Her smile lit up the room. “Pawpaw! Just play your hand already, I know you’re going to win.” He laid out his last card. “SKIPBO!” He yelled with a gleeful laugh. The girl shot him a competitive look. “Round two?” She asked. How could he not accept this challenge? The two played cards until well after the old mans bed time. But he didn’t care at all because they spent the time together. “Okay Lily, time for this old fart to go to bed!” The man exclaimed. “That’s only because you won all ten rounds, no fair!” Lily said. The old man laughed at her. He always loved spending time with his granddaughter. “We can play a different week.” He suggested. Lily nodded her head in agreement, and he took her home.
By Evalysse Garber5 years ago in Families
The Opportunity Inheritance
Nicole held the golden fountain pen her father had given her on her 18th birthday in her right hand. She ran her thumb across the cover of her journal enjoying the texture as an attempt to calm her mind into a meditative state as she waited for the words to come to her mind and be bled onto its pages. It had become apparent to her that if she spent all night researching lucid dreaming, the actual sleep may never come. She thought to herself “how am I supposed to keep a dream journal when I can never remember my dreams?” as she opened her brand-new black Moleskine journal. She decided to jot down what she remembered from her research to get her creative juices going.
By Jessica Morales5 years ago in Families
The Dirt Man
My name is Joseph C. Hagin. The C stands for Charles, as that was my father’s name. I never knew my father as he had passed on my 7th birthday. Joseph was my mother’s father’s name, so I guess my mom won out when it came to picking my first name. For some reason, every time I would ask my mother about what had happened to my father she would be extremely vague and always changed the subject. I knew his death had some strange circumstances behind it, but I never really pressed the issue. She would usually just offer that he drank too much and so on. Being born in a small town just outside of the North Dakota plains made her story more plausible as there wasn’t much to do but to drink, especially for a poor and struggling dirt man. In short, dad dug holes for a living. To say we were dirt poor is certainly a pun intended!
By Joey Fulco 5 years ago in Families
What Money Could Buy
In the year 1983 in the month of Christmas, the earth is stifled by the running bodies inhabiting the city of Moreton. Going heads of the crowded city move in unison as the industrial corporate buildings stay put and towering over them. A tenant of one of the towering buildings is me, 23-year-old Rebecca Norrys gloomily watching the uncoordinated city contributing its part to the economy. I have already contributed my part as I sit watching the city with completed task and 200 forwarded files and emails. I then shift my posture to then keep a stern eye on the clock as the minute hand goes by and time gets closer to the end of my shift. My antisocial like aura feels the office floor almost instantly and fifteen minutes starts to feel like dreadful hours.
By Jamerick Morrell5 years ago in Families
A Journey in Need
Grace District was my home, my paradise for the majority of my existence. When I was accepted into the psychology course, a unique and rare opportunity, moving closer to the capital of The United Nations of Strail was my only option. It was the start of a new chapter. Like the caterpillar when emerging from its cocoon to become a butterfly, city life enveloped me in new beginnings.
By Tiffany Dewey5 years ago in Families
Our Adventure
Our Adventure, by Monica Nyilas The noise from the living room softens as I make my way up the stairs. I feel the smoothness of the banister as my hand glides on top. I gaze upon the pictures hanging on the walls and am filled with the warmth of those memories. The joy they bring as a tiny smile escapes the corner of my mouth as I make the last step up of the stairs. I come up on the top landing while listening to the hum of the people below. I close my eyes and take a deep breath allowing myself this moment of peace and quiet. It’s not too long before I am meant in front of a door. My head hangs low, my chest is heavy; I am filled with fear and sadness. My hand slowly reaches for the door knob, head still hanging low, eyes closed tight while I release a deep breath and gently open the door. I open my eyes to a normal bedroom. The bed is made, all nicely tucked, the curtains blow whisps across the floor as a gentle breeze from the open window fills the room, and the light shines softly bringing warmth. Peaceful and content as the room should be. I make my way over to the bed and sit careful not to disturb the perfectly made bed. I pause for a moment, taking in a breath of the spring air gifted by the open window. Cautiously I look over to the nightstand and see a picture in a frame. I carefully reach out and grab the picture. I hold it firmly in both hands. I look down at the picture while a single tear falls down my face and onto the frame. Quickly wiped away by my thumb, I pull the picture closer; at this moment the tears begin to fall like rain from a cloud. I hold the picture at my heart, the place where the memory will live forever. I stay in this moment alone and untouched.
By Monica Nyilas5 years ago in Families
The Choice
She was waiting for the spinach and cheese-paneer to finish cooking. She had already made the chapatis, breads for dinner, so that all Bobby had to do was pick up the girls from school. Sunita had a soccer game today, but Iris could not go, her shift would be starting soon at the nursing home. “Mom”, she heard her daughter's plaintive voice, “did you hear me?”, “Yes, Sunny, I heard you.” Sunita's nickname at home fit her cheerful personality, most of the time. She was tall for an Indian girl of twelve. Lanky with big brown eyes, a child heading fast into womanhood.
By A. Ellis Joseph 5 years ago in Families
