family
You're My Marigold
The day was awful. It had been raining for five days already with no end in sight. The day’s weather promised another cold, dreary, wet day. It was the perfect day to stay in bed, holed up under a fuzzy, extra soft, warm blanket with hot chocolate and Netflix on autorun.
By Michelle McBride4 years ago in Fiction
Festival of Remembrance
Harlan left through the eastern gate and walked into the plains and fields beyond. Behind him loomed the ancient walls of Astora, standing sentinel over mankind’s largest stronghold. As Harlan walked away, the din of the city slowly faded, its excited, anticipatory sounds falling behind. It was the twenty-first of Artum, which made today the Festival of Remembrance.
By Travis Pittman4 years ago in Fiction
A Slow Song on the Wireless
You must understand I was only a child then, and I did not truly grasp the nature of that day. There was a tense stillness throughout the house, that I remember. Of course, I don’t think any child grasped the gravity of the situation at the time. It’s one thing to be told your father is leaving to fight in a war, and another thing entirely to understand what that means. Everyone understood war in some way or another at that time – everyone except for the children. Though in truth, I’m not sure my father truly understood either. He seemed enraptured by the sense of glory and duty, with the horrors all too readily swept under the carpet. Perhaps that was for his own sanity.
By William Brown4 years ago in Fiction
Peach Daisies
He used to give me peach daisies. I told him I hated flowers, but he'd pick one for me every Monday on our walk home from school, stow it in my palm and run ahead before I could give it back. It would end up on the ground, the petals smashed by bike tracks and roller blades of the next-door neighbors. When we stood on the porch of our brick farmhouse, he’d look at my empty hand in disappointment.
By Sam Eliza Green4 years ago in Fiction
