family

Emerald and June
Emerald died on March 28th, 2018. He was the pride of the whole city. Everyone loved to see him, and when he was sick and staying indoors near the end, it led to many people from all over the state rushing to visit him. There wasn’t a single Bronx native or even people from adjacent boroughs who didn’t know Emerald. Although it sounds like twenty-four years old is young, he lived an exceptionally long life for a Malayan tiger.
By SW4 years ago in Fiction
Backyard adventure
“Where are you going?” Zara was nervous walking in the dark and not knowing where they were going made it worse. She needed to be reassured.
By Gina Solomon4 years ago in Fiction
Requiem of a Pear Tree
“I remember well the kids first day of school. They came out of the house all spit and polished with every hair in place and faces shining with anticipation. So happy to be on their first step to adulthood. Of course, they didn’t think about it like that, but it was that indeed. Adulthood comes way too soon for many and not soon enough for others. I wonder why that is?”
By Jimmy Martin4 years ago in Fiction
Ten more minutes
"Ten more minutes," Emmi cried, nuzzling her head of curls into my shoulder. "No, Emmi," her mother denied, "it's time for bed."
By Jasmin McCardell4 years ago in Fiction
The Green Light
Jack Summers stood temporarily frozen in the bitter wind. Harsh winter rain whipped at his face as he gazed upon what used to be his family home. He had been stood there for some time, lost in the depths of trepidation, barely aware as the day turned to dusk and street lights flickered to life.
By Sian N. Clutton4 years ago in Fiction
When Winter is Over
“When winter is over, I’ll take you there,” she said, pointing at the frozen pond about half a kilometer from the cafe we were in. “We go fishing.”
By M.G. Maderazo4 years ago in Fiction
The Green Match
The swipe of a green match. The hiss of its green flame. The same light illuminating the space before me. “Finally.” I whispered. After going through almost half the box, I was worried I wouldn’t be able to strike any and I’d have to go back to the farm and get another box of matches.
By Abigail Dorothy4 years ago in Fiction
The Myth of Love
Love is the primary topic of movies, songs, books, and most major family dinners during the holidays; but is it something that we should yearn for?
By Mae McCreery4 years ago in Fiction
The Fruits of Freedom
“Your father loved you, Alice. He truly did. Don’t you understand that?” My mother exclaimed, rather suddenly and with a hint of frustration. I never understood why she continued to try to mend the wreckage of his life that he left behind for us to clean up. Hadn’t she had enough? Shouldn’t she be celebrating? Her face reflected a twinge of madness within, her eyes wide like an owl watching the horrors of the forest at night. Her hair was almost as frayed at the ends as her spirit was, leaving me with an uneasy feeling of pity within my stomach. I promised myself that I wouldn’t empathize with her or argue over this. Not today. However, for my younger sister Adele’s sake, I pushed back.
By Jilly Amann4 years ago in Fiction
Sky Call
I hadn’t heard my mother’s voice in twenty years. When the flight attendants anxiously told us to call our loved ones, I don’t know why I immediately found her name in my contacts. Elizabeth Shire. It was sitting there taunting me as my plane jerked downwards. My stomach lifted as we made a sharp decline before quickly leveling out again. I felt light as we dawdled in the sky. The masks dropped from the ceiling like marionettes, and I pulled mine over my hair and took slow breaths into it. It smelt like rubber and cleaning chemicals. The red lavatory light flickered green as a young man with a Cubs jersey rushed to the closest open seat. I took a sharp breath.
By Jessica Klein4 years ago in Fiction
The Rug
The zipper on Imogen’s suitcase was sticking again, and the frustration was not entirely unwelcome. The thick August air wrapped around her Georgian apartment was making the white wine go down fast, and after a few more unsuccessful tugs on the slider, she kicked the bed in defeat and sat down on the rug, sweat dripping from her forehead.
By Hillary S4 years ago in Fiction
Fruit of the Tree
It had seemed for a long time to Delilah Brown that the pear tree hanging over her grandma’s porch was waiting for emancipation. “Emancipation” was a five syllable word she learned in school, one of her favorite things to do was count the syllables in words, it made her feel accomplished.
By Lindsey Rose4 years ago in Fiction