family

Family unites us; but it's also a challenge. All about fighting to stay together, and loving every moment of it.

The Papers with the Mustache Man
Every night, Pa hunched over his desk scribbling in the black book. A kerosene light illuminated the curves of his face. It made him look like a Jack-o-Lantern working the graveyard shift.
By Kassandra O'Brien5 years ago in Humans
Jester's Diadema
G enerations here are begotten and gone like sand in the wind, with twenty-seven cycles of posterity having slipped through the wages. And though the folks are few at a time, they all do their part—day until dusk. This keeps the wheel turning.
By Tanner Stanley5 years ago in Humans
THE AFFIRMATION
Teisha was already staring beyond the car window, watched as droplets of water splattered across the sleek, misted surface, before the elderly woman appeared. Freckles of water lingered on the glass before gradually slipping down, collecting in pools at the bottom of the window.
By Josh Bone5 years ago in Humans
The Vagabond
“Don’t feel obligated to keep this, Casey,” my cousin told me. “He left weird shit to a lot of people. Most of us are just throwing his junk away.”
By Kelli Heitstuman-Tomko5 years ago in Humans
Shattered
It was a lovely spring day, May 24, 1994. I clicked on the television to watch Jackie Onassis's funeral. My two month old son Max was on my shoulder fighting sleep as I sat down to watch and pay my respects. I felt sad for Jackie’s children. The camera panned to them, Caroline with her children and John Jr. holding the hand of his beautiful young wife; his head slightly bowed and his forehead furrowed. Both he and his sister were dignified and composed as befitted children of a former POTUS. This wasn’t their first time at a very public funeral and it would not be the last.
By Leslie Perkel5 years ago in Humans
My Dad
The ceiling fan groaned as it struggled to beat back the summer heat and the curtains stood still, waiting for a wind that would never come. Alexi’s laptop lay on the ground, untouched for hours and wandering through an endless playlist of “sad music”. The muted television flickered in the background as Alexi drunkenly reached for another bottle.
By dylan kujala5 years ago in Humans
Esmerelda
Esmerelda sighed as she scrubbed away at the graffiti on the wall, it was a slow day at the corner deli where she worked, and so her boss had told her to clean up “that mess”’ as he put it. She grumbled as she often did about the need to work for any pocket money, it's not that she needed a lot of money, she was 18 for Circe’s sake, it's not like she needed to support herself at the moment, and if she did, she wouldn’t have settled for a deli. Nine dollars an hour wasn’t exactly a salary to live on, especially when you worked 6 hours a day for only five days a week.
By Joy Oliveras5 years ago in Humans
The Knowing
Yes, I understand, but….yes, I know, but….Please, is there anything you can do?.... I know, I know, but….Yes, I was late month too, but this is different…..Yes, I know I said that but…. Friday? Yes, I will have it Friday. Thank you! Thank you! Bye by(click)
By Alvin Ray Williams Jr5 years ago in Humans
Lotto and the Diamond Dagger
Staring down at the black notebook in her hands, Lotto carefully traces her fingers over the worn cover. She had searched for even the slightest clue of this notebook’s whereabouts for many years without avail and now here it was, right in the palms of her hands.
By Sam Kepple5 years ago in Humans
Lana's Sister
I stood paralyzed in front of the automatic doors, watching them open and close under the fluorescent lights. I could see outside and although the rain had stopped, every taxi that passed made an unmistakable SWISH beneath its tires. I lingered in the waiting room’s lobby, watching those doors for at least two ambulances; pulling up and unloading their unlucky cargo. I finally took the twenty steps to the other side of the doors, black garbage bag in hand. The thick dampness of the evening air prompted a deep inhale, but all I could smell was the devastating aroma of spring lightning ozone, blooming with anger and utter despair.
By Heather K5 years ago in Humans
The Walnut Café
Jean was sitting in his grandfather’s old rocking chair, he had sat there for the better part of the morning. He was immobile, statuesque. His chest lifting slightly, elevating only to depress and fall further into his form, this was the limit of his movement. An all too necessary action, one which Jean would rather have not even taken if he could have helped it. His chest hung low, dangling over his legs, and his head even lower, hiding the vital redness of his eyes and the simple streams that fell further down. These currents of life in Jean’s momentarily inanimate body fell on his legs, trailed down them and onto the red oak floor. These were the moments when Jean truly felt alone. Not in a physical sense of course, as the house was bustling with relatives and old family friends, but in a sincere way only a true artist can be. Jean’s grandfather was kin more than just in name or blood, but in his passions. He sat there at his grandfather’s desk, with his grandfather’s old recipe book in hand. His body pressed into the cold chair by an immeasurable sense of depression, one which might have seemed familiar to some onlookers. Jean was alone.
By Nikolis Atkinson5 years ago in Humans
Time Will Prove Everything
The palpable odour of elderly dissatisfaction spoiled what would have otherwise been the acceptable remnants of a living room. Nearly everything remained as he had last remembered; the sofas of cream and fuchsia cretonne sat abnormally unused, the dust burdened cushions longing for a familiar bottom to once again make itself at home; the shiraz-red bookcase nestled between each sofa, its depth of colour swallowing the gaze of whoever looked upon it, like a glassful of the antique wine it resembled. All the books were still in their place. All the books except one.
By James Hammond5 years ago in Humans