Latest Stories

Most recently published stories in Families.

Confessions
For 34 years I lived a life of denial and pretending to be someone I knew in my heart I was not ! Growing up in the south we are pushed to the status que all our child hood is riddled with shuttle pushes in what we should want ! On December 2 2011 I decided that I was not going to live in misery any longer !
By Lance Christopher Stevens6 years ago in Families
What Makes Me Tick
What Makes Me Tick I don’t know about movies. I haven’t read all the latest and greatest novels. As much as I adore music, I know very little about a lot of musical artists. Twenty- some odd years ago, for all intents and purposes, I dropped off the face of the earth. This pseudo death wasn’t a bad thing, it was a needed thing.
By Shirley Cairo6 years ago in Families
Hush Little Babies
HUSH LITTLE BABIES CHAPTER ONE I stared into the mirror, thinking, my whole life is a joke. Here I am, young, blonde, thin and good-looking, and the life I worked so hard for, had been taken from me. I stood in the middle of my bedroom, moping like a whimpering puppy.
By Suzy Bohi6 years ago in Families
Hard Truth: We Shouldn't All Be Parents.
Hear me out. I know, you read that title and you said "Electric Chair", "He's gone too far this time", "Who is he to tell me what to do?" Hear me out.
By Jide Okonjo6 years ago in Families
now she is dead ...
It's a pity that I've been holding on to my chest for so long and I didn't even dare to write about it or talk to anyone. I want to talk about it today.
By pardis kiani6 years ago in Families
WHETHER WE LIKE IT OR NOT, ADULTS KNOW BETTER!
No matter who we are as people and what our experiences are, being a child is a very unique experience. As children we have less responsibilities and expectations placed upon us. Though I wouldn’t go as far as to say that life is easier when we’re very young. Firstly the reason for children having less expectations is because they don’t know quite as much as they will eventually know when they’re grown. This comes from a combination of our development from growth and our experience from time. Regardless of how I’ve developed cognitively, experience has also played a major role in me eventually becoming who I am now.
By Rebecca Sharrock6 years ago in Families
Let go
October 1st 2017, was a sunny day with clouds in the air that were bigger than a boat. Little did the world know it was the day it would be my first time learning how death could teach me a thing or two. Waking up to a glass of warm coffee and a crying baby, in which was the only niece of mine. Before this crucial day my parents had split up and I ended up living with my sister. My dad stayed in our childhood home and my mom got a new apartment with her boyfriend and my brother. At the time my sisters husband, well now ex husband, just left the house for good and my sister was in this deep hole of depression and was never home. She was always out drink and doing things that never really made any sense. I learned my sister would buy things to fill up the hole this man had left her but in the end she would give up and sell the item in which she had purchased. In 2017 I was a junior in high school ,I didn’t know much but I learned very quickly how to take care of a child that wasn’t mine. It seems that many children in El Paso learn this it’s sorta a natural thing i’ve seen it every where. So my father took the separation very difficult he tried his best to talk with us and socialize with us but at that time it was already to late to catch up. My father was hard headed man or here in El Paso we would say old school, he would pay the bills while my mom cooked and cleaned for everyone. A construction worker is always out in the sun and that was my father career he was good with building/inventing things. But the one thing he was most good at was painting. Art flows through my family, like many others could be music, cooking, organizing etc,. But he would also come home drunk and yelling at everyone after work. It was pretty much and every day thing, my parents would fight and we would leave our home and sleep in other peoples homes or even the parks, behind stores etc. After awhile it gets old and you get used to the same thing over and over so my mom would sleep on the couch and my brother and I shared a room, my sister had her own house with her husband and child so she didn’t know what was going on. No body was really home and once you would enter the house you could just feel the sadness that runs through the air. My mom got me and my brother together and talked to us on how we felt at home because it was affecting the way we were at school. We had told her it wasn’t the same and we didn’t like going home anymore so she took initiative and told my father we were leaving and we grab all of our things and never turned back. My father gave up he didn’t know what else to do there wasn’t much he could’ve done either way we were stuck on emotion that we didn’t want to see the good. So on October 1st 2017 my father takes his own life in our childhood home. I’ve never heard so many cries and screams that day the sunny day turned into a long cold cloudy day. Since that day on we never spoke about my dad we don’t even talk to his side of the family because they hate my mom for what she did but they don’t really know why we left and the things we were going through. I picked up anxiety and massive drug abuse after my father passed and now in 2020 I’ve grown to see and appreciate the things that were given to me. I work harder every day to give the thing my loved ones need but at the same time I miss the old days when my dads side of the family would come to our house and have a small gathering here and there. It’s difficult to not have family on your side when you really need it the most. It’s July first and it’s my fathers birthday and that’s why I’m here to tell my story my he Rest In Peace and be a memory I’ll never forget.
By Hazel Sias6 years ago in Families
The helpless life
Who am I? Do you really want to know ? Hell; sometimes I don’t even know! I have more personality than I can handle, but yet i’m still in this messed up world. It’s not as bad anymore. It’s just getting good. Here I am; in this classroom. Starring at all these people; who wants me to become famous, or just an actress, or actor like myself. My director stands in front of me. With her long reddish hair, slim nice body, and a pale face. With a book in her hand; as if she knows it all. Who can tell me what I am? or What I can, or cannot do? I was born to be successful. When I was five years old; I can remember pain. It’s not a pain where you fall off a bike, and scraped your knee; type of a pain, but one you will never forget in a lifetime. My mother she was a beautiful black women. With almonds shape eyes, and a curvy body; that men would lust for! Truthfully; underneath that pretty smile, and sweet ways; was a conniving, dishonest, money hungry, manipulative, and head strong bold women. She did anything to get what she wanted. My father; disappeared when I was three years old. The things that I could remember about him; he was kind-hearted and giving. He made sure the family was taken care of, but he was a drug addict at the same time. Now; I had my stepfather. Who was a different kind of man. Someone; who is not my father, but doesn’t deserve to be called a stepfather either. He was tall, black or dark skinned; maybe around 5’8. Not a handsome man. Who asked little girls, “to come sit on his lap”, and he give them money ( me in particular) . He always took me places with him. We had gone into the woods; where I shot my first shotgun. It had nearly blown my shoulder off. We went on dirt trails; for him to teach me how to drive. This happened more than once. Not to mention; I had everything a kid wanted (candy). I was happy when I turned seven. I went to go visit my father for two weeks; who lived in California, because my mother went to prison. I was beyond happy to see him. We went to zoos, parks, out to eat ,swimming. We saw a lot of places, and did a bunch of things together with my siblings, cousins, and grandmother (his mother). What my father didn’t know; was that when it got close to bedtime; I was afraid of him! Afraid to sleep next to him, and afraid that he would try things with me. However; it never happened. All he wanted was to comfort me before I slept. I lived with my mother throughout my childhood. All I saw was the blood, the hate, the rage, the fear, the tears, the starvation, and the loss of hope. On a nice day my mother and stepfather would throw bbq’s. We would have them a-lot of the times. On this particular day; we had one it; when I was about 11 years old, and my closest bother was 12 years old. He was short like me, but a little taller than myself. He had high yellow-brownish skin. He was handsome, and clean cut; with eyes that capture tramps. He was a smooth talker with no action. My brother 18 years old; was tall 6 1 dark skinned, and handsome; with a personality that girls couldn't get a enough. He was a chill, cool, and laid-back kind of brother. My other brother; who was 15 years old had reddish-brown skin. He was not too tall, but had golden hair with a low cut, and golden skinned hairs; like mine on his arms. They were smooth and nice. He could be evil at the same time. He also could be a ladies man. However; it would have been many; if they weren’t afraid of him. All of us waiting around for my mother’s sweet beans, potatoes salad, bbq hamburgers, macaroni and cheese. My aunties and uncles would be in the backyard playing cards. The blues played on the radio. It was definitely a good day. At least for the moment. Out of nowhere it happens! Blood being splattered. My uncle and stepfather were fighting. Both of their faces were covered in blood.My uncle had struck my stepfather across his face. He put a deep gash; where the blood was rushing down the center of his forehead. My stepfather; then struck him back in the face. Now his face was bleeding too. My mother begin to standup for my stepfather. My uncle then struck her in the mouth. Now she was also bleeding. My brother Tony then struck my uncle; for hitting my mother. The police were called, and everything went back to normal. The night falls, and everyone is in their on space. I can hear my other uncle’s truck pull up. It had this loud motor. You could hear it. Especially, if you were at the front of the house. I guess he heard about earlier. I look out the window. He was coming quickly to the front door. He came in and started yelling at my mother. They begin to fight, and my brother helps once again. Only this time it almost took his life. My uncle started fighting my brother; stabbing him in his back. There was a piece of glass left sticking out his back. All the while I could see the blood splatter. As; they continue to fight. My uncle then flees out of the house. He was leaving my brother in the need of medical attention. He was taken to the hospital, but he was not able to tell what really happen. My mother was big on keeping secrets. Her most famous words were, “I will say what goes on in this house; stays in this house”. Her boyfriend would beat her all the time. She was always covered in blood. Tony didn’t know that. He lived with my father’s mother; our grandma. He always would visit in the summers growing up. This year he wanted to stay for good. It was a hot summer night. My stepfather decided he wanted to beat my mother that night. Things didn’t turn out well for him this time. He was so use to me, and my other two brothers ignoring it . It was the usual. But, not to Tony . He heard my mother screaming. He jumped up; I followed behind him. My other two brothers got up after they heard a sound that was not normal . My stepfather screaming for his life. Tony was beating him in his face; with a hammer. When he stopped; my stepfather ran out the house. He yelled that he would kill my brother. My mother yelled that my stepfather was never coming back. We knew it was a lie. Tony didn't know; in fact he didn't know a lot. When my stepfather returned. He decided to move back to California. Weeks had pasted;Tony was was waiting on my grandma to come get him. He had begun to act strange. Since my stepfather returned. He pulled a gun out on me; and l told him I was telling. He convinced me not too. I still wondered why I didn’t tell on him? Things are just, as normal as, they were going to get. My auntie was planning a crawfish boil. We were all excited to go, but hoping just no fights. We always were unlucky for fights that happened. My brothers, myself, and a cousin were standing on the porch. We were singing, laughing, and playing around. When My mother yelled out, “it’s time to go”. My oldest brother said, “we going to get a ride over there later!” it was still early. My mother and stepfather left. We all went inside to their room; that they all shared together. Everyone was laughing and joking around. Tony pulled out the gun and pointed it at everyone . My oldest brother told him to stop playing and lets go back outside. Tony puts the gun to his head and pulled the trigger. The gun didn’t go off. He then laughed, and said,”y'all thought i was gone kill myself!” twice. My oldest brother said again, “lets go outside”. We began to leave out. The next thing you know was a loud sound went off. Tony had shot himself in the head. Blood was splashing everywhere. His eyes were rolling back in his head; while he shaking. My oldest brother began yelling, screaming, jumping, punching, and kicking the door. The ambulance were called. He was taken to Baton Rouge General Hospital. He was later on a breathing machine and pronounced brain dead. I cried a lot during this time. All i could remember is the song we sung together; before it happened and the kindness of him being in my presence. I made it to the hospital for the third time to say my goodbyes. They were taking him off life support. I walked in and I look at my brother, and I sung that song,”Don't leave me”, by the Backstreet Boys. It had just came out. I kept singing it and crying. Moments later a tear from my brother face had fallen down his left cheek. It was the last time I saw him. My second big brother. The summer had past. My mother had landed herself back in prison. Back to california for us. This time it was a school year. My father was waiting to see me and my younger brother. Our father gave us an allowance every Wednesday. For me just being with my dad we had a good life for a moment. However; my father was back on drugs and disappeared many times. We ultimately had stopped going to school. We started hanging out with friends, and doing drugs, and drinking liquor. My closest brother and myself. We noticed our father didn't come home for the two weeks at a time. We then split up and we went our separate ways. Soon I didn't even know where he was, and neither did he know where I was. It didn’t matter at the time. We both had no where to go and had to find our own way in this world.
By Raain6 years ago in Families
Running From Love
The snow hit the rocks and laid there still as glass and silence. Not a sound to be heard other than the howling winds. Wind which brought the crystallized specs all over the town and water on the edge of the ice covered beach. Water stilled, waves no more until the big thaw comes in the spring. Light pours out from the lighthouse above, rotating and spinning in all directions. Always on the lookout for any and all arrivals to the snow covered dunes.
By Katelyn Doner 6 years ago in Families
One Breath Away
She is my mother and she's only ever just one breath away. For 22 years I was living thousands of miles away from her, thinking she'd always be. And although for the last six months before her passing I moved closer to home, I still cannot help but feeling the weight of time lost. But rather than regret I am grateful and thankful for having her as my mother, kind, loving and caring right to her last breath.
By Nissim Ben-Salamon6 years ago in Families
Fathers are not second hand parents
Children in this world are beautiful and magnificent, they are the inspiration and hope of this world. As more and more are born each day of every hour, it's also more that is lost. Our court system helps those parents in need of a family arrangement; family court. At a certain age, there is a time when a child who becomes a teen can then choose who they want to live with. That teen can choose father, mother, aunt, uncle, or even grandparents to such decision, and even though each parent thinks they are entitled to have custody or even share custody of the child what they don't understand is at a certain time and age that choice is now the kids choice.
By Shania Rivera6 years ago in Families
Lost and Found
Marcie put on her headphones and turned the music up. Tonight she didn’t want to think about anything, or to hear the regular, everyday noises her family would be making. Aunt Emma was arriving tomorrow from some foreign port, and Marcie knew she would not feel like listening to exotic stories of a journalism career, not now, when her own life felt like such a mess.
By Roberta Carly Redford6 years ago in Families