family
Family can be our support system. Or they can be part of the problem. All about the complicated, loving, and difficult relationship with us and the ones who love us.
Life
It's 29/01/2057, to me, just another night. Like it happens for thousands of years. The weather is comfortable, the house is silent. The world outside is wild, but I'm safe at home. Family is out, the girl I like is sleeping, none of my good friends are online.
By Lucas Matias5 years ago in Psyche
The Round Table
by Echo Johnson Oh, how I held court. The crowd gravitated to me. I had been holding court for what seemed like a lifetime and then was silenced for what felt like an eternity. One day I came alive again. “She” discovered me and gave me a second shot at what I did best. And that was creating endless bonds with people. All sorts of bonds. New friendships. Extremely difficult conversations. Laughter. Tears. Screams of sorrow and belly laughs so loud, they woke up the entire neighborhood. I was “The Entertainment.” To her, my new owner I was, a brand-new purchase. However, the reality was I was an undervalued steal from the local thrift shop that held so many secrets. Yes, I was small, but I was ordained in mosaic tile with imperfections. I stood proud and I made a statement. My journey with her began about 5 years ago. And this journey was no doubt my favorite one yet.
By Echo Johnson5 years ago in Psyche
Walk through the door.
Dust blanketing the kitchen, cracks snaking up the walls, weeds taking pride place in the garden. Adele stumbled through the lounge, dazed and in disbelief. ‘How can this be the same house?’ she wondered. Bottles now emptied of the wine that once coloured them were scattered atop the coffee table, their number drawing her eye. ‘Well, some things haven’t changed’.
By Juliet Emaranth5 years ago in Psyche
Is this child a demon?
"No, I really mean it, the child never sleeps, but she has so much... energy... every morning, night, and day." My mom wavered into the phone, exhausted, depleted. No body believed her yet she was right. I slept a mere hour, when I did, and yet I bounded to life at sight of the sun each day as if living on a heavy dose of meth each day, alike my bio mom.
By L.D. Malachite 5 years ago in Psyche
THE ROCK IN THE HARD PLACE
I am nine when my father runs off with his 23-year-old secretary. He leaves a note on my mother's pillow: I just don't love you anymore. I know this because I find the crumpled piece of paper in the garbage can after my mother falls asleep on the couch. Then I read it in my closet with my Mickey Mouse flashlight.
By Carol Anne Shaw5 years ago in Psyche
EL INGENIERO RAÚL CHAMALÉ
My mother finally realized that the beatings she took from my father would never end and that the abuse was not just for her for for me as well. The day my father took a knife and put it to her neck after he had beat her, was the last time I ever saw my father put hands on her. I can still feel her whole body shaking as she held me close when we were asleep. In the morning she woke me up and told me to get ready because we were going on a trip. We could not say good bye to my father , he would never let us go. So I grabbed a little stuffed dog he had bought me and got dressed. My mother asked me to tie make a bow on the back of her dress for her because she could not reach. I grabbed the straps on each side of her dress and tied a knot, she asked that I make it tighter; she was so thin I could have wrapped those straps around her 4 times and still had enough to make a good size bow. We got to the airport and flew to Chicago. Life has never been easy for a single mother . The United States was so different from our home town in Central America. My mother worked grave yard and after about a year she decided I could not continue staying alone all night and most of the day while she slept. I was around 6 years old and needed someone to watch over me. She decided I would be better off with my grandmother. She said she had to stay and take care of some things but that she would be with me in two days. Those two days turned into 6 years.
By Rocio S Romero5 years ago in Psyche
Mom's missing again
"Your mom is missing", the words resonated through my soul for days, "she ran away" I knew she would be back, I knew she couldn't hide forever. I was at school, sitting in the "cozy corner" a small area covered in sheep skins and pillows. This would be the third day in a row I had spent my recess inside, an act that drew gentle teasing from my classmates. I was not upset because she had abandoned my brother an I again so much as I was aware she would be found, and when she was her life would be incredibly hard.
By L.D. Malachite 5 years ago in Psyche
The Bird Coop
The Bird Coop As I lay here on my deathbed. On my death bed? Are my final words as a writer going to be this cliché? Then again my entire life has been a cliché, even the fact that I call myself a writer and yet I was never published, I never even made the local papers. I knew I was good too, at least I think I was but they always told me writers need attention and our' family' doesn't need that, after all we don't write papers we just collect them . And I thought they said your life flashes before your eyes but the only thing I can picture is that stupid owl i saw in the barn when I was younger.
By Andre Gayle5 years ago in Psyche
