family
Leaves
In our youth we used to enjoy playing with leaves. When did that stop? Adults don't do that anymore. The pass it on as mere child-play. But why cant' we continue that tradition, it is so much fun. I suppose it is because as adults we don't have the time or the intuition anymore. It's a crying shame that we can't invision play-time anymore. They should put up adult centers were all is play-time and nothin else.
By Alex Jennett4 years ago in Fiction
How I Learned to Stopped Blaming Other People for Everything That Went Wrong in My Life
My parents were divorced when I was fifteen-years old. It was not an amicable divorce or anything near that. My father was mentally and emotionally abusive to my mother, me, and my siblings. He had been injured at work, more of a mental injury than physical, but refused to accept disability. He thought he could get more from filing a lawsuit against the company where he had been employed.
By Blaine Coleman4 years ago in Fiction
Carry Me Home
Chloe hurried down the stairs when she heard the screen door whine open and then just as quickly slam shut. It was Sam she was hurrying to meet before he had the chance to see the faded jean jacket that belonged to no one he knew. “Simon’s home. He’s asleep. Let him be now. He came in late. He’s exhausted, says he feels sick but I don’t think so.”
By John Ouellet4 years ago in Fiction
Grandpa's House
The road still bends left and right on the way to grandpa’s house. It has always been a curvy neighborhood, and I’ve always noticed that from the back seat of our red van. I always get carsick back there, but my brother and sister argue that I’m the youngest and therefore squished between the suitcases is my assigned seat for the duration of the five hour car ride. My mind flashes back to that one time when we arrived at night. I could barely see anything, and with the moving of the car it felt like we were sailing in the middle of the ocean. Our ship points its nose up as we climb a wave bigger than we have seen that night. From my position at the stern, I peered towards the bow and saw the blackness in front of us was dotted with bright stars, no doubt leading us in our journey through the water. We then dipped down again, and continued on our path. We crawl up that same hill today, but all I see are the grey clouds threatening to open up at any minute, and I feel my stomach drop once more.
By twenty-something4 years ago in Fiction
Wildflowers
The heat that day in Tucsan was predictable. Hot. Very hot. The kind of hot that you knew if your car got a flat tire between here and there, it would be life threatening. The July desert heat that prompted you to stay inside all day long. Jules looked out the window of the cheap hotel. A lonely tumbleweed blew across the sandy parking lot. Boredom was settling into her bones. Jules was a natural redhead, fair skinned and thin like her dad. Freckles kissed her cheeks and shoulders. Her long thick hair and intense blue eyes made her one of the most beautiful girls back in her small hometown in Oklahoma.
By Carol DeVotie4 years ago in Fiction
Red, Yellow and Blue
“Red is for loss – for all that we have had to endure. And you know what the Laugh will say, don’t you? “Nobody should have to go through what your kind did – nobody should have to watch their own kind being taken apart in the name of some sort of ‘development’.” And they’ll mean it, too. Well, some of them will. The others will applaud and cheer and raise their Squares – but they won’t be willing to make an effort. You know who watches out for us?”
By Sachal Aqeel4 years ago in Fiction
Menard and May MaCaw
On an island far away lived two birds. They were husband and wife, Menard and May MaCaw. They were very happy on their island in their jungle. They had lived there many years and knew every one that lived there. Every morning Menard would get up early to forage for breakfast before May woke up.
By Michele J.4 years ago in Fiction
