siblings
Siblings are the only enemy you can't live without.
My mind
My mind The sun beaming through my window viciously, I pulled my covers over my head and hid, I still had a sharp and throbbing headache from a few days before, I just could not shake it. Drifting off again slowly into my sleep, I feel a foot . And Immediately went into nostalgia for a quick second. Like it was just an old memory. This was not just any foot, but my little brother Nathaniel’s foot. The crustiest foot you’ve ever seen, at least for a 10-year-old. I pushed it off course, but boy was that the end of my sleep.
By crystal john5 years ago in Families
One Heart
One Heart My sister’s hand was still warm as it remained intertwined with mine. It was the stillness that served as the harsh reminder that she was gone. Our parents tried to comfort me and one another, but I had yet to cry. I couldn’t focus on them right now; my eyes were transfixed on Kori’s hands. Her long slender fingers inside of my hand. The matching half heart tattoos we had on our left ring fingers. Being only 18 months apart, she was my very best friend. She had held my hand my entire life and I wasn’t sure if I could let hers go. Panic rumbled in the pit of my stomach with the prospect of leaving the hospital, leaving my sister here to be cold and lonely. A sob clawed its way out my throat. I couldn’t understand what had happened. Although, Kori had been diagnosed in childhood with congenital heart disease, she hadn’t told me about being ill. We told each other everything. We had no secrets, or at least that’s what I always thought. I asked her over Christmas break if she was okay because she kept getting tired and she reassured me that she was fine, she had started a new medication and simply had to readjust. I wasn’t to worry and when I suggested taking time off from school to stay until she felt better, she wouldn’t allow it. She reiterated the importance of staying with my studies, especially in my freshmen year. Since then, she had seemed her usual self on our FaceTime chats. Maybe I wasn’t paying close enough attention. I was in my freshman year at a college half way across the country that she had insisted I go to. I never wanted to be so far away from her, but she assured me that it would be good for me, that she couldn’t be my whole life.
By Chenequa Terrell5 years ago in Families
Fallout Shelter
During the summer when I was 9, I lived a house we rented at the end of a road in Northern California. It was a rental from some weird guy that sang in a band. Their favorite song to sing was that one about the lion sleeping in the jungle. He would sing when he came over to fix things on the house. There were huge pine trees everywhere. Squirrels running and jumping from branch to branch, occasionally bombing you with a pinecone knocked loose. Once a pinecone broke our patio table. Of course, our mom didn’t believe it was not me or my little sister that broke the table.
By Nicholas Bradd5 years ago in Families
A Strange Day
Look in the box, you have to do it eventually, it’s weighing you down hun…closure is so important. All of this I heard every day from my mom, until she finally gave up getting me to open this box up. As well she should have. I don’t need to look in the box and see the fragments of the past from a sorry useless brother who never cared about our family. He left us as soon as he could and I don’t need that reminder. So I shoved the box in the farthest corner of my closet and that was that. And I’m sure she never looked either, she’s not that snoopy kind of mom. She is all go with the flow and ‘if you do it..do it here safely’, honestly I sometimes forget I’m not her mother.
By Taylor McElroy5 years ago in Families
9 Long Years
It was a crisp, autumn day in Peru, 2 months before her 18th birthday. She sat holding her little black tattered book, slowing turning one tear-stained page after another. She had done this very same thing every chance she had for the last 9 years, whenever she wouldn’t get caught. This time there was just a bit more nostalgia. Maybe it was because her big milestone birthday was fast approaching, and like every other one since her father had disappeared with her from the Arizona desert, she knew there would be no celebrating. There would be no cake, no candles, no decorations, no song!
By Deliverance Dockter5 years ago in Families
Poor people need luck, Rich people have Faith
Life is a chess game, and money is funny. It seems we work really hard day in, and day out just to have little things like nourishment, shelter, and God forbid a little entertainment. Sitting in class right next to people that come from money, who don’t worry about jobs, or test grades, or after school jobs, after graduation, they’re out going right to work at their families business. Who could be mad? Though sometimes you tend to look at yourself in comparison. Ironically the subject in today’s class was money management. Today was Friday, and I was ready for today to be over. I loved this class, I think it was because I truly enjoyed my professor Mr. Koové. He was brilliant, down to earth and witty. He stood maybe 5’10, dark hair that was beginning to grey from the cause of stress, but old age. He wore designer frames around his bifocals, which definitely gave him an edge, and you can tell he used to be an athlete because of his build. He stood up really straight with a presence that was felt, but not intimidating. His voice boomed, rather it was excitement, passion, or confidence it made people around him take notice. His energy radiated comfort, which made anyone around him feel invited. When I become a full fledged thriving adult,I want to be described the same way as Mr. Koové. “Tenacity!” I heard my name screamed at me by tiny voices, “Here!” I blurted, almost as a reflex. Mr. Koové looked at me and chuckled, “we are not doing role call, I asked you what are some things that could bring wealth to a poor person?” I rolled my eyes, “If I knew the answer to that, Mr. Koové I wouldn’t be sitting here with holes in the bottom of my shoes.” The class roared with laughter, but the statement almost brought tears to my eyes. From the look on the teachers face, I could see he was on the brig of tears too. He raised his hand, as to bring the class back to attention, the banter stopped immediately. Still focused on me “I’m sorry Tenacity I didn’t mean that to mock you...” Before he could finish his sentence Brittany, who sat right beside me cut him off “Mr. Koové, why don’t you ask someone who already has money that question. Like if you would have asked me, I would have said investments. She fluttered her long 28mm mink lash extensions at me, I’m sure it was because she was pleased with herself. You could smell her Marc Jacobs Daisy perfume all around her, like it has become part of her dna. I only knew the name because she made sure everyone understood that it was her ‘Signature Scent.’ Unlike me who had to make the two bottles of her bath and bodyworks body spray last until I could afford more. The smell of my body spray didn’t last till lunch. She only wore clothes that came from Pink, or lulu, like she was ready for yoga at any second. She called her jewelry pieces, so you understood that they were real without her having to make it obvious that she was bragging. She carried a matching Louis Vuitton backpack and purse to class. She parked right outside of the building in a red Gwagon that she bragged about being surprised with, just for making through the first semester here. We did not get along if it wasn’t obvious. She always made it a point to humiliate me, always giving me a reason to despise her. I finally looked away from Her back to the front of the class. Then the bell rings, and for some reason I let out a long exhale, as if I was holding my breath. “Tenacity?” I rolled my eyes, hearing my name being said in that manner means charity was coming in the next sentence and I hated charity. Being a senior in college with nothing but debt means you learn to accept a bunch of charity though. “Yes sir?” I turned slowly to meet his gaze. I have a book for you, I really hope you read it. It’s called ‘Poor people need luck, Rich people have faith.’” The title made me smirk, “I guess it’s easier to have faith when a good thing like money is at your disposal.” He chuckled and said “sometimes it’s right in the palms of our hands, and we don’t even know it.” He dropped the little black book in my hand, and walked back to his desk. “I will not be here, after Tuesday, so I suggest you read it by then, or not.” He sat back in his big black leather chair, looking really pleased with himself. Knowing Mr. Koové, I knew there was something hidden in that remark that I would catch later, but I had too many things to over analyze to let a simple remark be my priority.
By Tristyn Janai5 years ago in Families
A Recipe for Butterflies
The Bailey Twins kept to themselves. The life of a nomad is one of solitude; an isolation that can invite the most wondrous adventures, while also entertaining the trickiest of tightropes - all of which can lead its explorer astray, and lonely. It's an obstacle and a challenge that is either undertaken by the most daring adventurers who seek lives not yet lived, or it is a state of circumstance whose imposition is the adventure. For the Bailey Twins, it was one of circumstance.
By Oliver Johnson5 years ago in Families
Memories
September 28th 2006, Thursday 4:37 pm I don't talk much, I also don't make eye contact, especially with my peers. If I don't see them maybe they don't see me either. Senior year in high school isn't all that it's cracked up to be. My classes are fine and the teachers have a tendency to check on me. But the students, I can feel them staring right through me. I cower because I know I am different, I'm done trying to fit in. So I stay away.
By Shawndean Blackhorse5 years ago in Families
