Latest Stories

Most recently published stories in Families.

Codes & Mysteries
When my Father died, he left a lot of things behind. Things my brothers & I never knew he had. I found many of them when I cleaned out his office.
By Tom Mackinnon5 years ago in Families
The House I Grew Up
The old worn house stood alone in the middle of a dense forest not too far from town. It was the sublime picturesque painting straight out of a gothic horror novel. It was the only thing that Orion loved about the house. The memories that coursed behind the walls like blood had turned sour over the years that it was allowed to curdled like rotten milk. Orion took a sharp breath that felt like daggers piercing her chest. If ghosts did linger in the world of the living, they took the form of memories and nostalgia that held tightly to a home until it became nothing more than walls and a roof to keep you from the cold and rain. There was a tug at Orion's heart that begged for her to enter and reclaim those memories, both good and bad—but she hesitated on the border of the property, a manilla envelope in hand. The soft warmth of another's hand grasped her own, followed by a gentle voice,
By faynoia5 years ago in Families
The Funeral
Only about 20 people came to the funeral in total. Sean panned around the room as mourners gathered into the funeral hall. It was quiet. Everyone was holding in their tears for the time being. People came up to the deceased’s wife and family and offered their condolences and sat in their respective seats. Just before it began, the wife leaned over to Sean and said, “I’m really sorry to ask this of you, but I don’t think i will be able to make my speech later. Could you do it for me?” Sean stared at his sister-in-law blankly, tired after sleepless nights of planning and the years before that when the cancer was slowly eating away at his older brother. Without a sound, he nodded and faced the front again. A silent frustration came over him.
By Eugene Shin5 years ago in Families
THE LITTLE BLACK BOOK
She ran her hand through her long hair. Her hair had once been her crowning glory. Now, the once luxurious locks, had lost some of the walnut shine, the grey mixed with white caused the illusion of a lighter color. She kept her hair long almost to her waist; but instead of letting it run free across her shoulders, she usually either pulled it back in a braid or a ponytail. Her eyes betrayed her age. She now required glasses to read and even then, a bright light was needed.
By Sylvia Bennett5 years ago in Families
A World Away
‘If you listen to the wind, she knows the way.’ The words of my grandfather were persistently lingering in my mind as i get ready to cross the jagged path across the river. My name is Samuel Jacobs, i've been tracking a spot my grandfather believed to be a native american trading ground just south of Talladega, Alabama. Abihka, It is the believed main trading post of the coosa chiefdom.
By Aaron Ogle5 years ago in Families
Mermaid. Top Story - February 2021.
My mother was a drunk and a mermaid. Or a mermaid and a drunk. That’s the problem with words: whatever you say first sounds like it causes the second. But sometimes people are just two things at once. And more likely three. See, my mother wasn’t a mermaid because she was a drunk. And she wasn’t a drunk because she was a mermaid. She was just both, as long as I can remember. Oh, and a dreamer. A drunk, dreaming mermaid that drank and dreamed.
By P. D. Murray5 years ago in Families
I'm Your Daughter
Dress. Aisle. Seat. Ceremony. Pictures. The list repeats in my head. I want to make sure I don’t forget it, even though I’ve had it memorized for what feels like a lifetime. Dress. Aisle. Seat. Ceremony. Pictures. That’s all, I just have to get through those five things. I figure the reception will be so packed that I won’t have to deal with her, that’ll be Dad and Isaac’s job. She’ll see the dress, we’ll have our moment, then they’ll walk me down the aisle before taking their seats, leaving me home free for the ceremony and reception. Guilt creeps into my mind. I shouldn’t be looking forward to not interacting with her.
By M.A.R. Leigh5 years ago in Families
Stories from "La Frontera"
Stories from “la Frontera” La Espiguita Mom was from the south, way south beyond the Equator closer to the Strait of Magellan, from a thin lengthy winding strip of land. Mamá came from an immigrant nation, looking remarkably like the other white women in the United States. Long white-blond hair and light blue eyes, a slender sparrow, her South American identity doubtless the moment her accented English was heard, succinct and direct speech patterns were her trademark. She was a firecracker, quickly enraged by signs of injustice, with a profound sense of independence despite her displacement from her homeland, and the fact that until the late 20th century, it was isolated from the world. Mountains and distance gave her people a singular sense of security while keeping them insular and provincial.
By Marci Valdivieso5 years ago in Families
Last Request
She heard the phone ring and her daughter yelled, “I got it!”. A few minutes later, she came in and said, “Mom? There’s a John Halliday on the phone asking to see you. He says he’s Porter’s grandson.”
By Chuck Sears5 years ago in Families
74 Hours
You know when you see those movies or read those stories where almost everything that could go wrong does? This is one of those. And it's all true.
By Sara Wilson5 years ago in Families
Authentic Christmas
Christmas trees have always been a peculiar thing to me. The first time I learned about Christmas I was around 12. It was in the middle school classroom of a small southwestern town of China. My English teacher played a Christmas Carol for us. I don't remember exactly which one, but it was beautiful. I learned that Christmas was a very important holiday in the West and people celebrate it with Christmas trees and carols. Later, I read about Christmas trees in Anton Chekhov’s story, “Vanka”. I fell in love with that story and Chekhov right away. It has been my favorite story since then, even though I did not understand the purpose of having a Christmas tree either in or out of the story. All I know is the tree makes the story bittersweet and beautiful.
By Cheyenne Huang5 years ago in Families
A Box Of Chocolates
The little black book had been a thing between us for a while. At first, it had been a way for us to talk about our feelings after the accident.
By Asha Glover5 years ago in Families