literature
Families and literature go hand in hand; fictional families to entertain, reflect and inspire.
The Lie (For a child)
This, folks, is a child’s lie; this is a lie that I told my grandma when I got in trouble. See, I got in trouble for climbing a tree. I go out early in the morning and try to find a tree to climb. I was never allowed to climb trees because my parents were afraid, I would get stuck, but I didn’t listen. I go out behind my grandma’s house to the woods. At the time my grandma lived on the bottom road at the top of the hill. Well I end up finding a tree, but it was a baby. It was only about five hundred feet tall. I look up this baby tree and start to climb.
By Anthony Sanders5 years ago in Families
The holiday of a life time
The holiday of a life time Chapter one On news years eve 2004 it was a lovely day and an 18 year old girl called Katherine went on holiday to Spain, it was the first time that she had been on holiday on her own, she was 5ft8, with red hair that was just above shoulder length and hazel eyes, on her first day in Spain she met a very nice young man called David who was 1 year older than Katherine, he was about 6ft, with short black hair and brown eyes, but that didn’t bother her because she had fallen in love with him even though she had only just met him.
By Katie Dolman5 years ago in Families
The Hunt for the Legendary Mr. Morris
My new novel, The Hunt for the Legendary Mr. Morris is coming out in September of 2020! In honor of that I would like to give a sneak peek of the novel as well as one of the pre-release reviews and tell you all the places to find my stuff!
By Sasha Boileau6 years ago in Families
Mr. Mayor of the Town
One evening of late summer, before the nineteenth century had reached one-third of its span, a young man and woman, the latter carrying a child, were approaching the large village of Weydon-Priors, in Upper Wessex, on foot. They were plainly but not ill clad, though the thick hoar of dust which had accumulated on their shoes and garments from an obviously long journey lent a disadvantageous shabbiness to their appearance just now.
By Puti Jhyau6 years ago in Families
My Uncle's Scheme
My father was a major in the army who, at the time this story begins, had lived in Longueville-sur-mer for fifteen years, to which place he had come, after my mother’s death, bringing me with him. I was then seven years old. He put me to a good school in the neighbourhood, at which I remained until I was sixteen; and was then let free. Considering myself a man, I worked hard to grow a mustache, in which I very ignominiously failed; for it was not until I was one-and-twenty that nature condescended to favour me with that very elegant and martial decoration. I also took to colouring meerschaum pipes, in which art, before I was nineteen, I was considered by my companions to excel, though I did not succeed in establishing my reputation in that line until I had dealt such an injury to my nervous system as I fear I shall never recover. I also became, before long, an expert hand at billiards, though up to the last Bob Le Marchmont could always give me twenty points and beat me comfortably. But I was his better at whist, and was indeed a match for several grave old gentlemen who were members of our English Club in the Rue des Chiens.
By Puti Jhyau6 years ago in Families
