family

Behind the Glass
“Tim!” The shout was a mixture of anger and disappointment, and it rang out clearly from the garden. Tim didn’t care. He knew Mom would punish him, and maybe he deserved it, but very little could take his attention from the loud, satisfying thud he had heard when the rotten pear slammed into the greenhouse. Even now, as Mom’s pounding footsteps came towards him, he stared intently at the juice dripping down the glass, leaving behind a sticky residue that would be a pain for someone to clean up.
By Matt Spaziani5 years ago in Fiction
The Night I Don't Remember That They Never Let Me Forget
I had been working for an Electronics Manufacturer in St. Petersburg Florida for several months. I had heard so many stories about the annual pig roast. I was wilder then than I am now. I wasn’t going for the food.
By Lawson Wallace5 years ago in Fiction
Silence
The room was long and narrow, not much furniture and of a very white color, almost like the color of the coral sand outside the window. The sunlight danced off the sand and skipped along to the endless expanse of the Atlantic Ocean, glinting and shimmering as it moved along the waves. My mind traveled with it for a brief instant.
By John Bowen5 years ago in Fiction
Jilly the Spy
I pull the saw back and forth, back and forth, and watch a spray of tan-coloured dust fall around the base of the tree trunk. It’s not very thick—maybe six inches in diameter—but it takes a good deal of my strength to coax the blade through the dense wood.
By Kate Sutherland5 years ago in Fiction
The Tree With Edible Branches
Elliriana Maria-Flora Carvella Montenegro (Elli to her friends, Dorkface, dorkie, dorkaroony, or dorkatoon to her brother) tapped her phone. She was hanging precariously over the safety rails, putting all her focus on that magical snap about to happen.
By Marit von Stedingk5 years ago in Fiction
Becoming Numb
It’s been twenty days now, twenty days of hell and three days of seeing you in my dreams. The last time I saw you, in reality, was twenty-six days ago. The last time I saw you in my dreams was a few hours ago.
By Gerald Holmes5 years ago in Fiction
A PARTRIDGE IN A PEAR TREE
I think I was sane when I woke up this morning. At least nothing had pointed to the contrary. A day spent shopping. What could go wrong?
By Margaret Flood5 years ago in Fiction
Under a Pear Tree
My home is quiet, not even with my cat purring being heard from the other room. Sitting on my window seat, looking out into the orchestra naturally playing outside. Something about rain and her music brings memories to the frontest part of your mind.
By Mary Crawley5 years ago in Fiction
Writing on Books
I, Laura Fern, committed a sacrilege: I wrote on a book. Yes, a lot of people circle words they don’t understand, highlight sentences that thrilled them and what not. For me, pressing a pen against a book was like dropping the flag on the ground. I even fought with my mom over writing my name on my textbooks back in middle school. She won, but I sweated trying to draw my handwriting as neat and straight as possible.
By Elizabeth Rojas5 years ago in Fiction
At the Pear Tree
The crackling of the fluorescent lights overhead were the only sound audible in the little room the hospital had labeled “the chapel”. Sara had fallen to her knees on the deep, red carpet and had begun praying to a God she wasn’t even sure she believed in anymore. Tears clouded her vision and she felt as though her heart would explode right from her chest.
By S Baumann5 years ago in Fiction
Reunion, Sorrow And Everything In Between
[Beep] pain. [Beep] anxiety. [Beep] helplessness. All encumbered onto that lone creaky bench beside the ICU. Sat on it was Imran.
By Zaid Khan5 years ago in Fiction
Johnny and His Tree
"Johnny!" "Almost finished mom!" The young boy called down from the hill. "Supper is ready!" Johnny's mother announced in a tone that begged haste.
By Jake Xagas5 years ago in Fiction