family
Birds Of The Same Feather: 4-5
Chapter Four The closer Pete got to his destination he heard the sound of music coming from short distance inside the forest. Pete became excited as he began to juke (dance) to the beats of the hotmix being played. Project Pat song “Chicken Head” was beating loud and the trees and ground trembled with bass! He started pumping his shoulders as he walked and bobbing his head. He was definitely a party bird! Dignitas didn’t know what he was doing and simply looked at him as if he was crazy and laughed. Soon after, Dignitas found himself being drawn into the beats of the music as he began to shake his tail feathers.
By Alicia Royale4 years ago in Fiction
Birds Of The Same Feather: The Final Chapter
Chapter Eight - The Final Chapter The following morning Dignitas awoke to find D.J. happily smiling as he gently strung a few playful cords on his piano. His mother Sharona was cooking breakfast as she too smiled happily as she sipped her coffee. Dignitas however wasn’t in such a cheerful mood because his thoughts were being haunted by memories of the times he had spent with his peacock love, and he was missing her terribly. He didn’t want to ruin his mother and D.J. morning happiness with his sadness and depression, so he went outside for a bit of fresh air.
By Alicia Royale4 years ago in Fiction
Submerged
PT1 She thought she was drowning ..felt like she was drowning ..like, seriously the worst thing that could ever happen, has in fact happened. Here she was sitting in this cold place with concrete wall and concrete floors. The bed toilet and sink were all less that's 2 feet apart. There was no way out. What ever was to happen now was completely out of her hands. Laying on this cold steel bunk her tears made her feel as if she were drowning, submerging 20 feet under in the deep sea. Heart beating, skin clammy, it was only deep breaths that were calming her spirit. Well , hear it from her, she can tell you better....
By Jazz Massey4 years ago in Fiction
Tell Me You Love Me
“Why don’t you hold me anymore?”, the wife asked as she looked at the stained floor mat, while the question ate at her core. The car was already filled with cold air and a deafening, awkward silence. Now it is filled with smoke and tension. The husband rolled his eyes into his head, lit his cigarette and said, “I can’t sleep like that anymore. It’s uncomfortable for my back”. Her question was annoying to him, and his frustration was beginning to rise like boiling milk. “Are you not attracted to me anymore”, she quivered, as she attempted to choke back her tears. Just the thought of her first love no longer being interested in her made her want to burst into tears. She held onto the hem of her new dress, as if to brace herself for the answer to her question. “We just came from marriage counseling. Why didn’t you ask me this then?”, he scoffed at her. “If I wasn’t still into you, would I be going to counseling? Stop asking me stupid questions”. He could not hide his lack of empathy and adjusted his right hand, on the cold leather steering wheel. She could not tell if the weather outside had dropped ten more degrees or if it was just the ice her husband’s heart was radiating. He had become so cold towards her, since the beginning of the year, and she could not even muster up the courage to answer his question. She wanted to tell him that he has been so cruel to her lately, and whether he goes to therapy or not does not make it right. She also wanted to tell him, she did not have a chance to ask him, during their counseling session, because he tends to shut down and make it obvious, he would rather be anywhere but there.
By Diamond Elliott4 years ago in Fiction
The Ballad
The day I spoke my first word is a day that I cannot remember all that well. I know it is a real day, or else I would not have been able to speak at all, and I am glad that I can. If it did happen, I must have a memory of it somewhere, would I not? I have been told I have a stellar memory, but I am not so sure I would believe it if God told me himself, just because I cannot remember such an important day. Granted, I was only a babe at the time.
By Justin Wolters4 years ago in Fiction
Through The Eyes of The Innocence
The door slammed shut. Daddy was storming off into his office, while mommy chased after him begging for his forgiveness. She had a new bruise just under her eye today.. a bit of blood spilling out from under her nose. I sat with my barbies laid out in front of me, watching silently as daddy slammed his office door shut as mommy caught up to him. She was leaning up against the door now; her fist pressed up against it as she pleaded for him to open the door. She kept promising that she was "over it" and that she wouldn't fight with him again.. the way she always did after every fight they had.
By 'Lissa Stufflestreet4 years ago in Fiction
Marley Ames: The Feast
Marley Ames searched the ground before him, taking carefully calculated steps to avoid ripping away the loosely hanging sole of his right shoe. In his part of town, strands of wire littered the dirt alongside the sidewalks. Any time he needed wire, he simply started walking and very quickly discovered a suitable piece.
By Charles Turner4 years ago in Fiction
The Farewell Party
People were dressed in their finest outfits. The spread looked amazing; a grazing table covered in delicatessens, a sweets table that all of the family had pitched in to create. And an array of afternoon tea platters, sandwiches and quiches were being taken around to guests. Everyone had really gone all out for the farewell party.
By Shahnee Hunter4 years ago in Fiction
Cora
After they were asked to leave for the third time, Cora and Meer exited the hospital and strolled around the parking lot, not bothering to reach Meer’s car. Gapping and laughing at the sunless shy, she shuttered, “Meer, wha-t was your mom thinking when she decid-ed to give you such a pathetic name?! Meera?”
By Lobna Kowsar4 years ago in Fiction
Long Shadows
Most of Grandpa's hair had been trampled out by the ages. What was left huddled in nervous fringes about the ears and neck. This I noted anew that sultry July evening when the shadows were lengthening and I and my wife entered the Three Rivers nursing home. We discovered him in a wheelchair, aimlessly poking about the room. His chair cut a corner and caught one of two beds, dragging it more centrally on the floor.
By Charles Turner4 years ago in Fiction
