Latest Stories

Most recently published stories in Families.

The Escape
Hello my name is Linda, I am 35 years old. I am a domestic abuse survivor that recently got out of a bad abusive marriage and I had to move across the country with my children to get away. My mother and I never saw eye to eye my whole life, so I hardly ever talked to her. I reached out to her when I saw the opportunity to leave my marriage, and save my children and I but as usual she came off cruel and insensitive. It was always my fault as to why I was in my situation in the first place. So again I was on my own as I always had been my whole life.
By Rachy12 H5 years ago in Families
Gettin' in Trouble at the Stateline Motel, Gas Station, Dance Hall and Bar
The first gas station and motel that Daddy Fox owned was called the Stateline Motel outside of Guthrie, Kentucky. It was a quick drive south on state highway 79 almost to the Tennessee line. Growing up in the late 50s and early 60s I had been to the Stateline Motel many times and I stayed with Daddy Fox and Miz Burchett in a small house next to the station. There was a small 8 room motel on the property but it never seemed to do much business so I didn’t pay much attention. I was much more interested in the gas station and all its delights, especially food and pinball!
By Trent Fox5 years ago in Families
A Lesson Well Learned
"Which mask should I put on today," the young child asked her mom. "An ugly troll, a cheerful gnome, or fairy full of charm?" Her mother turned from cleaning up and signed with pure frustration. "Hurry up, you'll miss the bus and have no transportation."
By Kiesha Haughton5 years ago in Families
His Note
I wear a sweater today. The kind that’s knitted tightly with cream wool and falls down to the knees and well past my wrists. Perhaps I am hiding something under these sleeves. Perhaps I am masking the damaged skin that puckers when it scars or the calluses on my fingers. Perhaps there is a ring on my third finger that I prefer not to show, or a decrepit black notebook in my arms.
By Tyler Means5 years ago in Families
Who We Are. Top Story - February 2021.
The Part Where I Was Taught to Be Proud of Where I Come From My mom imagined my grandfather was asking me, “What’s your name,” for the hundredth time with a grin on his face.
By Cree5 years ago in Families
Crazy Auntie V
I had been having a very bad week, month, year--ok, decade--as demonstrated by my current abode, a one-room, rent-by-the-week "apartment" converted from a 1930s motel in this dying small town. The town boasted two convenience stores, a school (consolidated) and six churches in a two-mile radius. I always wondered why, with so many devout Christians, the parking lot outside my door was alive with druggies and hookers all hours of the night.
By Kathy Parish5 years ago in Families
Time Capsule
How do people do it, go to college, work, homework, cook, clean, socialize? Something has to give. The nursing program is tough, so tough the homework is piled on my desk so high, my watch is ringing that I have an hour before I have to work. I pack my packsack full of texts, binders, paper, pens and paper.
By Leslie Strom5 years ago in Families
Memories From My Childhood
Today, my family and I spent the day skiing. As I watched my children on the slopes, laughing and enjoying themselves, I couldn't help but think about my own childhood.
By Gurp H.5 years ago in Families
The Black Ledger
The black leger The well-worn black leather notebook felt soft, in Emily's hands, she can’t think of a time she had ever seen her grandfather without it. The book was something he had always carried around and turned to almost like a bible. Now being handed the wight felt immense, well the weight of everything felt immense that is, as the executor of the will hand it to her.
By Michael Cicciarella5 years ago in Families
The Legacy of my Heart
I loved her. I didn’t want the money instead. This wasn’t an exchange I had asked for; I never sent this wish into the universe.
By Caitlin Howell5 years ago in Families
My Little Rose
As I rocked back and forth on the wooden swing on my front porch, I stared at the hatbox sitting next to me, wondering if I should open it or not.
By Melanie Rose5 years ago in Families
Truth Hates Delay
There was a catch. There was always a catch. Raindrops splattered the intricately scribed calligraphy, which, to an 18-year-old, looked like the ancient writing of ancient beings, akin to a lost art. Ophelia Reynolds pulled her hood up and darted to the porch. Page by page, line by line, she frantically scanned the document, hoping to find some other way, any other way, to complete the seemingly insurmountable task in front of her. The delicate pages with didn’t spew forth any secrets, nor did they offer any alternative ideas. Names, dates, land descriptions, measurements. All meaningless. Perhaps if she read the Latin phrase haphazardly scrawled in red ink on the inside cover, all secrets would be revealed. Ophelia read the inscription aloud “Qui totum vult totum perdit”. She squeezed her eyes shut momentarily. To her dismay, nothing extraordinary had happened, no magic revelation, and certainly no instant sense of enlightenment. She was going to have to do the unthinkable: she was going to have to speak to her father.
By Nikki Mickens5 years ago in Families