family
The Fifth Season
We had a pear tree, and it was the joy of the neighborhood. It, and my mother. My beautiful, bright-eyed mother, with her aprons and baking prowess and generosity. She baked pies and tarts with our fresh-grown pears, giving them to our friends and neighbors like a plague. She made jams with them, sorbets, salads.
By Grace Derderian5 years ago in Fiction
My Fathers Marigolds
When I was a little girl, my father planted marigolds in our garden. “Daddy?’ I would ask him “Why do you plant those silly orange flowers between our other plants?” “They protect the other plants from the baddies!’ His British accent came in strong, he would smile at me in his usual way, his eye creasing in the corners, his high cheekbones covered in their round lumps. He would laugh and tickle me as I tried to escape him through the tall, wooden garden beds in our yard.
By Erin Beasley5 years ago in Fiction
THE WANDERING ANT.
Once upon a time in a village called Timeless there lived a family named the Samuelsons. Every morning they would begin their day with a moment of meditation. Then, they'd take a walk to scout out the land and pick up needed items - such as different type of debris along the road to do their daily routine.
By Dr. Totziette Slater5 years ago in Fiction
Can You Imagine?
Here I go, I tighten my laces, pull my coat closer to my body and tug my hat down tight. I look up at the mountain above me, it is so cold! I am ready for this adventure! Spot barks at my ankles also excited for the adventure, I never go anywhere without Spot! He is my companion, my sidekick, my best friend!
By Becky Arthurs5 years ago in Fiction
Growing Up With Sharks
Curiosity as a young child came with the territory for Aesop. That extended to sharks because of all the tales that he heard from his mom, Pamela, who often used scary tales as a disciplinary tactic. She told him that disobedient children were vulnerable to shark attacks whenever they visited the beach.
By Anthony Chan5 years ago in Fiction
A Locker with ... Love?
“It’s just a storage unit.” She told herself standing in front of the dingy garage door. “Just a ten by ten space rented and forgotten by Michael before he died. I’m surprised it’s still here.” She stood back and waited for the lot manager to use her drill to take out the lock. The squealing of the metal was loud and shrill and went on for longer than Jeanne was comfortable with. She had to admit that that somehow going through Michael’s things after he was gone was leaving her feeling kind of ghoulish. At the same time, there was a definite dullness about it all, and still a mercenary interest for all that he owed her after 14 years together. She just wished he had family closer than 600 miles away in another state.
By Lois Brand5 years ago in Fiction
Favorite Things
“You got a package. I put it on your bed.” This was the greeting Jamie received upon entering the apartment he shared with two other randomly assigned university students. It was October and classes were in full swing. The work was difficult and there was little time for socializing. But as an introvert, that suited Jamie just fine. He went to his room and closed the door. The package was sitting on the bed as advertised. It was wrapped in brown paper, so plain it made him suspicious. He didn’t recall ordering anything and there was no return address.
By Leslie Writes5 years ago in Fiction
