literature
Families and literature go hand in hand; fictional families to entertain, reflect and inspire.
Chasing Chad
Slivers of light sneak through the blinds and catch my eyes. My arms drift above my head as a stretch tackles my body. I pull myself from the couch and realize the time. 2:18am. A smile slips across my face; I forgot about the time change. I forgot about the flight. I forgot how I got here, why I’m here, all of it.
By Melynda Kloc5 years ago in Families
Good to See You Again
Recently, I came across a hard drive from college. I found some of the pieces I had for creative writing workshops, thinking maybe it would nice to share it with the world. This is the only piece that seemed worth the light of day, a short story I wrote in my first year as a creative writing student
By Nathan J Bonassin5 years ago in Families
The Artists' Way
‘He’d be so proud if he knew,’ she thought to herself, as she gazed at the folds of the plane’s wing out of the thick plexiglass of the cabin window. She pondered the magnificence of this moment, where she would finally touch the earth of her family’s heritage before they migrated to America. She was thinking of her Grandfather, and how he would be rejoicing if only he were still here to know of it. He’d passed away not long before she accepted the job to conserve the famous Il Bacio (The Kiss) in Milan. Her Grandfather’s passion for art had been one of the strongest bonds they shared together. Once, he too was an art conservator as a young man in Italy. But that was a lifetime ago.
By Shauna Lynch5 years ago in Families
My Dad is Magic
As a child, I remember my father always carrying around a red handkerchief, a small multi-use tool (which included a hammer, blade, wrench, and Phillips screw driver all in one), and a small black book with a pen. With these items in his possession, anything was possible. ANYTHING. According to our family, my father is considered a Gomez legend. Although I truly enjoy listening to all of their stories about him, it is not necessary for me to learn about his greatness because I had my own first-hand experiences.
By Summer Gomez5 years ago in Families
The Book
"No matter what, promise you'll take care of yourself." His brilliant blue eyes had already begun to fade as his large hand trembled in hers. Pleading with her, he pulled her closer, "promise me Elizabeth that you will always try your best." Elizabeth watched helplessly as the life continued to fade from his once strong body, "the answer is in the barn…" with widened eyes and a ragged breath he was gone.
By Megan Fontes5 years ago in Families
Just like I imagined it
Sitting in the hospital dining room, looking down at the floor, wondering what would be the last book my loved one would read. Reading new stories was our hobby, and maybe this would be the last. I wanted it to be the best. I looked for several books, but none were inspiring compared to the ones we've read. I gazed towards the window; perhaps the peaceful sky would honor me with an answer. As I was staring at it, my peripheral sight caught a man dress in black sitting at one of the tables. He seemed to be writing something on the last page of a little notebook. He closed it and placed a sticky note on the front cover. He took a breath, reached his carry-on bag, got up, set the notebook in the center of the table, and left. I was puzzled. I exchanged sights between him walking away and the table. Should I catch up to him to let him know that he forgot his black notebook? I froze.
By Ricardo Marquez5 years ago in Families
My Dad is Magic
As a child, I remember my father always carrying around a red handkerchief, a small multi-use tool (which included a hammer, blade, wrench, and Phillips screw driver all in one), and a small black book with a pen. With these items in his possession, anything was possible. ANYTHING. According to our family, my father is considered a Gomez legend. Although I truly enjoy listening to all of their stories about him, it is not necessary for me to learn about his greatness because I had my own first-hand experiences.
By Summer Gomez5 years ago in Families
Inheritance
The house of my father’s father stood at the end of a tree lined driveway, overgrown and untended. Muscular roots snaked under the road, opening gaping potholes into which the rainwater pooled, causing my old Ford to lurch alarmingly, creaking and complaining at every indignity.
By M. A. Rolli5 years ago in Families
Journals
And that tiny speck there is your little baby girl’s heartbeat... The words float through my head like fluffy clouds on a warm summer day as I step into the bookstore, my legs passing in front of a sensor that lets off a pleasant ding, letting the attendant know a new customer has arrived.
By Chris Nicholas5 years ago in Families
Oak Hill
On a brisk November morning I had stood at my father’s grave for the first time in ten years. It was also the first time I stepped foot on my family’s estate, Oak Hill. My father was the only person that called me by my first name, Jessabelle, when everyone else just called me Elle. It was unseasonably cold that day, my breath wafted around me like pipe smoke. The sun shone through a lens of low clouds and occasionally bounced off the granite tombstones in a kaleidoscopic dance. It was quiet, somber, and lonely, but the way the birds sang their melancholy tune was beautiful in its own way and it helped put my mind at ease.
By Miranda Gaskin5 years ago in Families
Like a Firefly Caught In A Jelly Jar
The sun felt warm and comforting as 17-year-old Katie fished off the edge of the pier, feet dangling. Grammy Rue sat nearby in a collapsible lawn chair, her line in the water as well. While waiting for dinner to bite, they sat in a comfortable silence that can only be established by people who know each so well, they can coexist in complete relaxation. Katie spoke first. “Mama should be back from the beauty pageant soon. She sure looked pretty, didn’t she Grammy?” “Mmm...that she did.” Grammy Rue answered simply. Katie’s mama, Cheryl was a beautiful woman. Though not a scholar or particularly interesting by any means, Cheryl commanded attention whenever she entered a room. Blessed with long, thick, wavy blonde hair, enormous blue eyes, a perfectly pert little nose, full pouty lips, and voluptuous figure, Cheryl was voted Most Beautiful in her high school and served as their head cheerleader. At 15, she began dating Bobby, two years her senior, none too bright, but tall dark and handsome, and the school’s star quarterback. Bobby got a job at the local construction plant after his graduation. All the while he continued to date his perfect princess, but unfortunately he got her pregnant during the fall of her Junior year. By winter’s end, Cheryl had dropped out of high school, begun night classes, and received her GED at the end of May, two weeks before welcoming baby Katie into the world. Cheryl was barely 17. Bobby and Cheryl tried their best, but unfortunately their best wasn’t enough. They married shortly after Katie’s birth and the young marriage lasted three years. Inevitable pressures cast upon the inexperienced couple took their toll. Money woes, arguments and infidelity on both sides ensued until they ultimately decided to part ways. Cheryl moved back home, got a job waitressing at the local diner, and made extra cash competing in local beauty pageants. Little Katie was often left with her Grammy Rue, who was more like a mother to her than Cheryl was and whom Katie loved dearly. Money was tight, but love was plentiful.
By Jacob Schleien5 years ago in Families
