Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Families.
A Book for Remembering
I slammed on the brakes and the 1964 Plymouth came to a screeching halt. The summer night was clear and warm and in the sudden stillness the desert around me seemed to stretch on endlessly. Tears were still streaming from my face. I could feel them burning on my flushed cheeks, eroding away my skin and dripping freely from my chin onto my shirt but I didn't care. I hardly even noticed them to be honest because in that moment when I should have been feeling distraught and heart broken I felt nothing and that was somehow worse. I looked over at the duffle bag that sat innocently on the passenger side seat, the duffle bag that was filled to the brim with cash, the duffle bag that occupied a space that would never be filled with my son ever again. At the thought of my son, my sweet round faced son who would never sit in that seat, never eat cheese pizza in that seat, never listen to Blink 182 and try to sing like Tom DeLonge ever again. These thoughts seemed to scream over and over again in my mind and perhaps it was the stillness of the desert night that so contrasted the heaving sea of anguish that radiated throughout my entire being or perhaps it was seeing the bag that had replaced my own flesh and blood in the passenger seat but the numbness inside of me shattered. I began to scream and beat my hands against the steering wheel of the old Plymouth. I could hear myself screaming to God asking him over and over again to forgive me for getting my precious boy mixed up in all this. I knew that he would not.
By Hayden Buhler5 years ago in Families
Neighbors At A Wake
Neighbors at a Wake Ever since Nicky’s father died, everyone was nice to him. As an eight year-old, Nicky Albigensia couldn’t understand why. He liked it all the same, and supposed this is what grown-ups do when someone “passed”. He also couldn’t figure out why they called it a wake, when his dad wasn’t going to wake up.
By Connor Bergeron5 years ago in Families
The Missing Piece
It had been months since her father’s funeral. Anna sat cross legged on the ground, in the middle of the almost empty room. The scratched and faded wooden floor was cold and hard underneath her, but it seemed to fit her mood perfectly. It had been a long couple of months sorting, tossing, organizing and selling the massive piles of mostly junk that had filled the rooms of the house. When she had first arrived, she had hoped that in the process of going through what he had left behind, she could somehow find things that would make her father less of the stranger he’d always been. Instead, she’d found as much sense and usefulness in most of the items as she’d ever found in her father, which was almost none. She hadn’t found any magic keys that would unlock the mystery of who he was. In fact, she felt further away from him now than she ever had. His death had come to seem like one last ‘Fuck You’ to her. One more mess that wasn’t hers she was expected to clean up, one more scar to try to hide. For the moment, she was just thankful there was still enough work to do to keep her mind from slipping too far down that particular rabbit hole yet.
By Jennifer Wedgle5 years ago in Families
Book Review: "Playing Nice" by J.P Delaney
I stayed up a long time to read this book and honestly, I was glad I did. When it comes to thrillers, if you keep choosing similar ones, eventually you will get bored of them. But, with thrillers like these, you will not be able to find a way that they are similar to another thriller you have read before. It is a brilliant addition to the modern world of crime, mystery and thriller. The structure is again one of those very tense narratives that goes back and forth between people and, in the midst of these back and forth narratives, we get court documents. We get phone conversations, interview transcripts, we get vital pieces of the court's exhibition of evidence that eventually we have to consider ideas that, at first, would not have been entirely present.
By Annie Kapur5 years ago in Families
My Dads Guitar
It was 2012. I was managing a “wellness” clinic that was more like a theatrical debut for Tartuff without the religious undertones, but complete with hypocrisy. This was just part of my daily life. I had a fiancé of about 6 years and a daughter of 2 years. My life was perfect- insert an eye roll here. I wished there could be more.
By Niki Colette5 years ago in Families
Grandfather
Jenny slowly swung open the door to her grandfather’s house. The air smelled musty, and dust motes danced before her eyes. Just today she had received a letter from her grandfather’s attorney, letting her know that the $20,000 he had set aside for her would be deposited into her account. Tears formed behind her eyes. She needed the money for her school tuition, but she would gladly give it up to have her grandfather back.
By Kathi Walker5 years ago in Families
The little black book
Standing outside the church, my black dress wafted in the biting breeze, ankles aching painfully from the size too small heels I was wearing. I was never a fashionista, but I had enough sense to know that in an event such as this, heels were the most appropriate footwear. After all, just because someone you loved dearly had died, it doesn't save you from the piercing judgment of those invited to pay their respects.
By Rose George 5 years ago in Families
