Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Families.
Grateful
The funeral had been a somber affair, months ago. Most usually are, it is true, but then again… most didn’t concern him. So the atmosphere never truly affected him, he never truly understood what it was, what it meant, what it did. He’d never felt it. Here and now, however, he understood clearly how it truly was.
By Aurumn Rinta-Hintz5 years ago in Families
A.I. party leads to SCIFI twins
I had never really wanted kids until my Oncologist told me one of my medications could make me infertile. A rush of hot tears cascaded down my face. But what can you do when you need that drug to live. In that moment I felt loss. A grief for something I hadn't realized I wanted. And now I wanted it badly. Perhaps because she said I couldn't.
By Emily Hughes5 years ago in Families
The Eight
The Eight Prue found her brother, eighty-year old Joe McKenna, slumped over a burning Cohiba and a snifter of Louis XIII, still gripping the little black notebook that he carried with him everywhere—even to bed. She pried his stiffening fingers off the book, rummaged through his desk for his will—she found it, read it, and put it back. The notebook she took.
By Claire Butler5 years ago in Families
Table 7
On an early Saturday morning, just after sunrise at a Diner in the middle of nowhere, Sonny sat staring out the window over the green pasture. The small silver number 7 on his table caught the morning sunlight and reflected onto his crisp white buttoned up shirt. As he adjusted the salt n pepper shakers and ran his finger along the edge of the cold glossy marble table, thoughts of his mother came to mind.
By Shahnee Hunter5 years ago in Families
Better Late Than Never
“To my son— I bet you weren’t expecting to hear from me. ‘Better late than never’, as they say.” When that small black notebook arrived in my bundle of mail, taped shut with my name and address hastily scribbled onto an index card and plastered to the cover, I didn't know what to think. My father and I had a tentative relationship, at best, so when my mind registered that the handwriting was his, I expected the worst. I left the notebook on my breakfast counter, in plain sight to remind me that it was there, but still sealed because I wasn't sure it was worth the potential mental anguish to open it. I even considered throwing it in the trash. Burning it. Returning it.
By Cillian Martin5 years ago in Families
Studebaker Studios Presents
This was not your average celebration of life. Canes were swinging, the elderly were dancing, and champagne corks shot across the room like fireworks with streams of liquor trailing behind them. Uncle Studebaker was much like the Count in A Series of Unfortunate Events. No one, except his nephew Hansel, was disappointed when he passed away. In fact, the town was so relieved to hear of his passing that most of the people who attended his funeral went solely to make sure he was actually dead. The result of their findings created a rhapsody of relief that was nearly palpable. People ran around with expressions so exuberant you'd think they'd just been freed from slavery or won a war. The raucous partying continued all night.
By Michael J. Heil5 years ago in Families
The Window
Mom’s eyes were heavy and a little red as she entered through the front door with a cardboard box clutched in her hands. Dad popped up from the couch and put one arm around her while he lifted the box with the other. The overflowing box, now on the coffee table, blocked my view of the TV. She had spent the day helping Grandma clean out some of my Grandfather’s belongings. Papa passed a few weeks ago. My whole life, all 15 years of it, I only remembered him being frail and confined to his chair. His life was pretty much books, news, and The Price is Right.
By Kimberly Snyder5 years ago in Families
