family
Family unites us; but it's also a challenge. All about fighting to stay together, and loving every moment of it.
The Little Black Book
“Are you sure this is the place?” The taxi driver asked as the car came to a stop at the entrance of the drive. I understood the slight panic in his voice as concern, although, there might have been a hint of judgment as well. Eyes wide and staring at a scene straight out of a Tim Burton movie I muttered, “This is the place... this is Gran’s.” The house was old and unkempt and for a moment I felt guilt. The once well manicured grass and plants had turned feral, revolting against the years of neglect and engulfing the house to make known their discontent. “How could I have let it get this bad?” I thought aloud. Gran had assured me that everything was under control, but it had been years since I visited and it was ever evident that the house was under everything except control. The hearse parked in the yard, a clear reminder that the memories I had of this once castle like Victorian weren’t my only loss, Gran was gone.
By Britni Arrington5 years ago in Humans
Between Pages
Have you ever wondered about your memories? What are they worth? Have you ever questioned whether certain aspects of your life that you could vaguely remember were actually real or if it were just a dream. This was a thought that had been even more pertinent as I eased out of my unconscious state, trying to recall if what I had just experienced was indeed a dream out of fantasy, or myself reliving certain memories. Except there was no time to try to figure that out, because I had come to realize I was late for work, after hitting the snooze button on my phone and subsequently sleeping through the delayed alarm.
By Giuliano Enciso5 years ago in Humans
A Solstice of Modern Salvation
“YOU GOOD-FOR-NOTHINS scum don’t belong 'round here!” bellowed from his lips like a bullet. He unleashed a barrage of blows, the confederate flag tattooed on his forearm sodden in scarlet blood not his own. “The Leader”, a black bandana covering his face, nodded his approval, as the carnage continued. His comrades continued their thievery, as the sounds of sirens pierced the twilight. “Boss, we got two, maybe three minutes before the pigs get here!” the twang of his southern accent revealing his roots with every word. “We gotta get outta here! QUICK!”
By T. Emanuel5 years ago in Humans
His Final Act - Father
It 's been two days since the news. It still hasn't sunken in quite yet. The words, "are you okay?" and "you're so strong" continue to echo in my ears on replay. I try not to let it get to me, it's only been two days. I loved the guy and all he has done, for all of us I mean. Just because I'm his kid doesn't change the fact that so many other lives and hearts were touched and changed. It's just my sister and I after all, the real family. Not the family that was known without blood, but through childhood. Upon arriving home I'm greeted by my cat as usual with a simple meow here and a purr there. "I missed you too buddy, it's been a rough day for Papa. Now I have to worry about my own Papa watching me all the time. Ain't that something to think about." I walk over to the kitchen counter and fix myself a glass of tap water from the sink. My phone rings and my eyes widen waking me up from my grief. "H-how in the..." On the phone in bold letters, the contact name "Dad" appears across the phone. Hesitant, I answer. A long pause goes on for what feels like minutes, but is merely seconds. I gulp and speak first. "Dad..?" The voice on the other line cripples with static and I can hear the words form but never fully finish. "I don't know who this is but this is a very cruel prank whoever you are." The static lessens and a familiar voice speaks calmly over the phone. "Go to the bedroom and look on your nightstand." More static arrives as soon as the voice starts again only to be what I assume is the next direction. I cannot hear him. Instead, I put the phone on loudspeaker and put it in my pocket heading to my bedroom to investigate. With the static getting louder as if the volume had doubled, I can see a small black notebook on my nightstand. Mind you, I've never owned a book in my life, let alone a notebook. God forbid I actually write about something in my life, am I right? The small black notebook has a black strip that wraps around the opening part of it with and a clean sleek look around the edges. I don't really have any business with a nice book like that. Odd enough that it's in my room though. I notice something green poking out of the book, almost stacks of green. The static on my phone lessens once again and the voice speaks. "Open it" Hesitant, I walk towards the small black notebook as the static returns to it's double decibel. I open the notebook only to find that there are no pages, but instead stacks of $100.00 bills. I gasp, "This can't be mine, there's no way." The static lessens again and the voice speaks in a singsong way. "You better make sure it's all there, silly goose!" Raising my eyebrows I take my phone out of my pocket. The static lessens and the call drops. "Silly goose? Dad would call us silly geese all the time...weird." I obey the dropped caller and count the money. "$100...$500...$1,000...$10,000..." My hands become sweaty, making counting a little easier. "$15,000...$20,000! How did this much money fit in such a tiny thing!? Is this all...mine?" The small black notebook, now empty of all currency, begins to smoke with letters forming blue and bright. They read, "You've found what I've left for you guys. I'm sorry it's this and not me in the flesh. This is from my secret stash that I never got a chance to give this to you or your sister when I was alive. Now, look behind you for a surprise." I froze as the room suddenly grew colder. I could feel a presence surrounding me, protecting me...releasing me of all grief. "Hey there bud.." "That voice.. why does it sound like.." My voice quivered and a pit had grew in my chest. I can feel the tears forming but I'm afraid to blink. I don't want them to escape my eyes. "It's alright bud, I'm here but only for a minute or two. You don't have to turn around, you don't have to look at me. I just wanted to say that I'm sorry. I'm sorry for leaving your sister and you here without me. The life that I chose may have not been the best, but it was the life that I wanted to live. I hope the money can get you and your sister a couple years in College, I know it's not much but... I love you both and I hope that in death you can both respect that I don't regret my life, not for a second. I know you especially don't agree with a lot of what you knew, I just want you both to know..." I turned around, feeling the final moments linger in the next words that followed. My face dried with streaks that were once my tears, staining my white shirt with droplets of grey. "You guys were the best thing to ever happen to me. Tell your sister I love her." His spirit started to fade starting at the feet, disappearing as if the wind was taking him away again. "I love you bud, take care of everyone for me." My voice cracked and I couldn't help but smile and sob at the same time. I'm an ugly crier, after all. "I will Dad, we share the same name and I look like you after all. I love you too!" His spirit faded fully and the wind moved it's way through the cracks of my home, a whisper made it's way through. "That's my boy" Echoed in a fading tone. I collapsed on the floor, unable to fully process what happened. The memories of all of us together flooded my mind. "Thanks, even in death you still found a way to help someone. Thanks Dad, I forgive you for leaving us. It was something nobody could control. I'm glad were you able to live your life up to this point. I hope you feel content wherever you are now." I pickup my phone and collect my emotions. Taking a deep breath, I call my sister. "Hey sis, sorry to bother you. You won't believe what I'm about to tell you."
By Isaac Smyth5 years ago in Humans
Mr. Murikami
He sits at the same table every time he comes into the Golden Oyster. His white hair looks dull under the fluorescent lights. He orders the same meal and stays for only one hour, never any time more or less. He’s respectful and quiet as he eats his lobster bisque with two pieces of bread. He blows on his spoon to cool down the soup then takes a slow slurp. He breaks a piece of bread to dunk into his soup. He drinks only water but I remember once he ordered a whisky, neat.
By Sonya Kahlon5 years ago in Humans
The missing piece
A breath of fresh air. That’s exactly what I needed. After spending endless hours stuck at my utterly uncomfortable wooden chair and half-collapsed on just as unbearably hard school desk, my back cramps are worse than ever. Three more years and I’ll be glad to leave this place.
By Kaja Posnik5 years ago in Humans
Granny
Granny Granny. She lived to be 105 and half years old. She was my great-grandmother. She was a grandmother to many, but a mother of two. She was a daughter; the eldest out of a family of 14. Now, that's a lot of kids! Back then, they didn't have television. So, I am guessing they made children in their spare time. She was kind. She was extremely entrepreneurial in nature. She was magnetic. She was also a figure of hope and inspiration to the masses. But personally, she was…
By Gary Francis5 years ago in Humans
The Gilded Shepherd
The sky blazed with brushstrokes of indigo and peach, dawn breaking over the small sheep farm just outside the village of Pettigo. The last signs of evening faded, revealing a thatched white cottage surrounded by a large garden, a small pond at its centre. Between the garden and a grove of wych elm sat a sheep pen and a greenhouse.
By Niall Weber5 years ago in Humans
Growing up in Grief - Part 2: Fear, Freedom and Fromage
Today, cheese made me burst into tears. Yes, cheese. Medium cheddar, specifically. There I was sitting at my desk in silence, minding my own business, eating my cheese (medium cheddar)… with big, hot, uncontrollable tears running down my cheeks. True story.
By Rachel DuRossier 5 years ago in Humans
The Little Black Book
Peter has had no contact with his mother for almost 8 years now. She had recently learned where he was living, and this concerned him. His mother was the type of woman who loved sabotaging good things in his life. He was frantically thinking of ideas and precautions he could take to avoid things getting unpleasant. His mother had a felony in malicious mischief so he would not put it past her to cause trouble but did not know what he could do to prevent the chaos in advance instead of having to deal with the aftermath.
By Jubilee Dueck5 years ago in Humans
Requiem
There I was. Standing like an idiot in my dirty converse and a wrinkled suit coat. I was not the example of fashion at this occasion. Not knowing if I should sit or stand, I just stood. Like a post, the less I move, maybe the more no one will notice that I'm here. I glance around the room as my family breaks down around me. It smells of formaldehyde and a freshly vacuumed rug, with a pungant after scent of some citrus disinfectant spray. Flowers had been perfectly arranged around the room and the music, soft, un-offensive and boring. Made up of light pianos and what sounds like the dustiest organ from the ruins of a Presbyterian church service. My mother, eyes closed, looked to be at peace. She doesn't look at me though. She can't look at me. For here I stand at the side of my mother's coffin. This is my mother's funeral, and I feel as though I am empty. Not particularly sad, just vacant in mind and body.
By Tristin Robinson5 years ago in Humans
