children

Children: Our most valuable natural resource.

Braving the cold
For a long time, Abby thought summer was the best season. Abby used to play really, really hard. She’d play so hard that the soles of her feet turned black and pitted with asphalt, toenails brown with dirt, legs yellow and bruised and green with grass-stains. There was a time every summer when the neighbourhood kids would be drunk on lemonade, living as dirty forest children, playing catch-and-release with whatever small animals or housecats let them get close enough to hold them. Their mouths would be red and wet with berries that they hoped weren’t poisonous. Abby would play when the dew was still on the grass in the morning until it returned at night. She would play until the darkness descended and the trees around her would give up their sunny mossy secrets for a darker, scarier presence, wilder than even her.
By Alana McMullen5 years ago in Families
The Chronicles of a Single Dad
The time was now. There was no time to turn back. This was the moment of truth. I had to make the decision on what I was to do. I had to commit. If I second guess, they will know my weakness. I stuck my hand out and took the object that was presented to me. As I stood there with a ball of actual shit in my hand, I knew that I messed up. That was the day that I learned to never, ever trust a two year old when he says, “ I made something for you!”
By Mitch Lunsford5 years ago in Families
Harmony's Treasure
In the village of Williamstown, Ireland, a tiny goat farm lay on the coast. The breeze blew the tall grass, whipping around the legs of the goats. A little girl with deep red hair and striking green eyes ran freely in the pasture. Her laughter filled the air as it carried with such a beautiful song to the settlement nearby. Her name was Harmony.
By KayLee Williams5 years ago in Families
Money Grows on Trees
“Money doesn’t grow on trees, Mikal!” echoed my mother’s voice in the back of my mind. A flea market north of Brooklyn and a charcoal leather-bound journal worth more than the few dollars I’d accumulated that one autumn. You can imagine raking leaves off of the communal path which was the closest to a front yard any of us folks had - on a road in a city where the grass is not known to grow, my selling point was rather debile. Though times became tough and my toes would peak through my socks like worms to an apple, I remembered her scent. It smelled of rich fragrance, strong in musk and vanilla that would dance around her almost like an aura. Like a ghost follows a broken soul, my nose would follow her scent through to the kitchen where garlic and onion, ingredients with pungency she only cooked to fill the house with an aroma other than the moulding ceiling in the single bathroom by the back door. Wrapping my arms around her lower half and sighing at the warmth she radiated, everything seemed whole at that moment.
By Deno Ader5 years ago in Families
Root of Russia
The Root of Russia I really didn’t know her that well. A couple of coffees, a few dinners that I was dragged to with our husbands who were mutual friends and that was it. That is not to say we did not have deep talks. I tend to talk deep no matter who I am with. I hate wasting my time with small talk. Most people are taken back by this but not Deena. She was Russian, much younger than her boisterous husband who had a quick wit and an insatiable appetite for alcohol. Still, when you do not waste time with petty conversation you can make lasting impressions on a person. She certainly did with me.
By Emilee McCaffrey5 years ago in Families
The Magical Black Notebook
It was a gray cloudy day around the city district, the small retail stores were empty, the restaurants and bars that was once frequented by consumers sat there like relics of the past, no one was able to enter any of the businesses until further notice. Cars drove by as the boy and his mother walked quickly down the empty side walk that used to be packed with pedestrians. The boy bounced up and down while he walked with his mother as she held his hand tightly, like a mother bear protecting her cub. The little boy grabbed his ear with one hand adjusting the strings on his medical mask that contoured to the his face, protecting his mouth and nose as it graced his cheeks. Before they went outside, his mother told him from now on when he goes somewhere with her he gets to be a super hero...“Always wear your mask so people won’t discover your true identity!”, she cautioned him, widening her eyes to put emphasis on what she instructed him to do. “What kind of super hero am I?”, he asked with a streak excitement in his voice and naivety in his enlarged eyes. His mother looked around their home trying to appease the young child. She then walked into the corner of their loft where a bookshelf stood and ran her eyes across each shelf, as though she preplanned to search for something of great secrecy that she intended on sharing with her son. Finally, to her surprise she noticed a small black note book that she hadn't seen before. In an instant, she grabbed it with fervor and gave it to her son, as she briefly stewed in cracking the mystery as to where the book came from. After dismissing her short lived suspicion, she turned to her son and leaned toward's him and said, “Here... you can call yourself Black Notebook Boy!” Once the boy retrieved the book from his mother, he quickly put the small notebook in his pocket as though he needed to protect the identity of the small black book. To encapsulate the fact in his mind that her son needed to protect his identity and the small black book, she reiterated the strict instructions on what to do when they get outside. "DO NOT touch your face with your hands, DO NOT put your hands in your mouth and DO NOT rub your eyes!". After she grabbed the boy's jacket she gave it to him so he could put it on. In between putting on her coat, zipping it up, putting on her medical mask and securing her son's medical mask on his face, she bent down to help him zip his jacket up. They both stepped outside and and observed the people that had a mask on. He wondered to himself since everyone has on a mask does that make them a superhero too? The both of them made their way to their parked car along the side walk between the other parked cars. Aside from securing her and her son's mouth and nose with medical mask, she made sure her son's seat belt was securely buckled up. “You can take your mask off now”, she said with a soft tone. “What if people find out my true identity?”, the boy asked with concern . His mother turned around and squinted her eyes as she looked directly into the boys eyes, “NO ONE can see you in the car”, she turned around, assuring him while adjusting the car mirror. He pulled out his small black book to examine the pages and noticed that each page was blank. Soon he realized there was an inscription on the outside that read 'Make A Wish' in bold letters. A little puzzled, he asked his mother for clarity while staring at the 3 words, “Mommy... what does this mean?”. As he waited for his mother's reply, he made his inquiry while pointing at the inscription. His mother looked at him and tried to look at the road at the same time. “It means that you are supposed to write your wishes down Black Notebook Boy!”, she laughed while trying to keep her eyes on the road. “ Well, can I have a pencil?” he asked. “ I don’t have a pencil but I have a pen you can use. I will get it out of my purse when I come to a stop light”, she said with satisfaction. The boy waited patiently while his mother drove for a mile as he looked out the window thinking about what he was going to wish for. His countenance dimmed a little once he took notice of all the businesses that were empty, especially after he spotted his favorite corner store that his mother would take him to to buy a soda pop. His sadness almost made him forget about the small black notebook. He snapped out of it once the car came to a stop. “Can you hand me my purse on the floor?” his mother asked, while motioning towards her purse that sat on the floor beside him. His mother reached in her purse and gladly gave him a pen. Without delay, the boy wrote down his first wish with eagerness, “PLEASE open the stores again?!”.With a sense of accomplishment, the boy was proud of his first penned wish in his small black notebook. As his mother continued to drive, the little boy lifted his head up to see where they were, “Where are we going?”, the boy asked. “To go see grandma and grandpa. We can’t go in their house but we can wave to them from the street.” she said attempting to mask her disappointment. From that point on, they continued on the 45- minute trip to the country side of the city to get to his grandma and grandpa's home. A smile came across the boy's face as if he was in oblivion to his mothers noticeable disappointment. “Can you turn on the radio?", he asked. "Sure!", his mother said as a smile gradually formed across her face. As soon as his mother found a radio station without static, a special news report came on the radio. “Sorry to interrupt your oldies, but goodies music. I am happy to announce that the state governor has signed a bill for stores to re- open”, the radio host announced with a poise. Though shocked, the boy froze in his amazement and chose not tell his mother about his superpower. Amazingly the boy sat in the back seat in a state of bliss, he sensed his mothers sadness for some reason. In an instant, garnered a look of determination and wrote something else in his little black notebook..., “Please... make... mommy happy!”. The little boy looked at his second wish and then looked at his mother in hopes of his wish coming true. As his mother continued to drive and listen to the radio, her phone began to ring. She turned the radio down and answered it, using her car's Bluetooth.
By Jason Ali5 years ago in Families
Black Seal
“Is it an alligator?” We were encamped on a sandy scoop of terrain with a skein of driftwood forming a fort at our backs. It was windy.
By Benin Trotter5 years ago in Families
Always a Good Time to Dig
The room was dim, and the dust motes danced through the lone beam of light filtering through the window, filling itself with the blue smokey haze that emanated from around the old man’s head. The chair he sat in, was beaten and worn from the many hours, many years which it had spent supporting and cradling his frame.
By Devia Vyne5 years ago in Families
The Child Windfall
The bank check – or whatever this was he had found – had been made out to “Child.” What child? Whose child? And why was this kid getting a check for $20,000? A check written in 1790!
By Pat Ocken5 years ago in Families
Last Words
To say that it could have been nothing is no surprise--that I almost treated it as such, like so many useless things I’ve found littered across the past--I almost wish it were so.
By Marisa Marzilli5 years ago in Families
Story Time With Winter Madison
Hello readers! Join me on Story Time With Winter Madison as we read stories together. Story Time is a time to relax, snuggle with your favorite stuffed buddy or blanket, and listen to stories read by Winter Madison. In this episode of storytime, we followed A Little Spot as he learns what it means to go to school online and any rules and helpful tip s that involve online learning.
By Winter Madison5 years ago in Families
Circles and Spheres
Miguel read the words again. My son, whose passion for art never shone faintly, I leave it all to you. His father always had a knack for surprises; Miguel managed a stifled laugh through the tears, though it quickly subsided. Pa’s absence was still fresh.
By Jad Sayegh5 years ago in Families