family

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

Daisies
“The days seem darker and heavier every time I open my eyes. I keep searching for an outlet… a change… a daisy peeking out through a crack in this endless concrete tunnel I am wandering through; yet there is never any light to give that daisy a fighting chance and I am growing weary. The bills are piling up even more now. What am I to do?? It’s not his fault, I know, but that fact doesn’t make this any easier… Or affordable... I only wish I could have seen this coming. Prepared somehow. Oh god oh universe, help him, help me! We must make it through, I must be strong”
By Kris5 years ago in Humans
The Little Things In Life
The streets of Chicago were chilling. I looked down the street to see Mr. Phillips outside as usual after closing, locking his thrift store and heading towards the subway station down North. A kind but quiet old man. The sky was dark. No clouds were in sight as I looked up to only see a few stars dancing over me. The quiet drift of the block left me wondering and hoping. I continued to walk down the street slowly. My body was envious of me. I wanted to lay down on the cold, solid ground. I wanted to relax my joints and muscles as they quivered and ached every time I took a step toward. My mind was focused on not focusing on anything. The wind started to howl louder as I held onto a nearby building and rested my back on it, still on my feet. I took off my backpack and reached inside. It was nearly 20 degrees out here, it had to be, I thought to myself as I tried to grab my water bottle with my bloody hands as they began to tremble. I had on two jackets and thick long blue jeans on, but even those weren’t enough to sustain me and keep me warm. I toppled to the floor as my hands nearly broke off and dropped the bottle. I couldn’t stand anymore, I couldn’t go on. I knew it was past 11 and the night would only get worse from here. I closed my eyes and hoped that snow wouldn’t fall from the sky and cover me. I’m going to die out here. The thoughts of an endless end rampaged through my mind as I glanced at my breath every time I blew out. It hurted. The pain dwelled on me as a best friend. It was everywhere. I tried taking a sip of my water and spilled the bottle with some getting on me. It hurt to drink. I was frozen in disbelief and agony. The bottle had barely any water left inside. I didn’t care to pick it up anyways. I had to keep moving, I have to keep get up and keep heading North. Keeping heading North and not looking back ever. The pain was too much to bare as I tried to lift myself up. The support of the wall was no help. My back would show no mercy to myself, as I fell back down to the ground. A sharp pain ran across my spine. I held it, in hopes for my frostbitten hands to make it better. It was no use. I clenched my teeth as I shifted myself more upwards, trying to fix my posture. The pain was astounding. I was hurt, my body was crying for help and I knew it. I want to move forward but I can’t. My eyes began to tear up as I looked to the sky once again to see a few clouds in the distance. Looked as if they were coming in from the North. The tears felt like they froze and turned into icicles once they fell from my face. My hands were too cold to rest them on my face too. I wanted to scream for help. I wanted to throw anything I could at nearby windows or doors just to get someone’s attention. This part of the neighborhood is always like this. Eerie and quiet. Vagueness was always complete here, especially at night. Never knew the real reason as to why, but for as long as I been living in Chicago, this neighborhood has never gotten past calm. My breath started to become shorter and heavier. My body was in more pain than before, as I tried to change my position, and lay down. The ground was freezing, and the heat from where I was previously sitting before did not help. I used my backpack as a pillow and laid along the building, hugging myself to get some extra warmth. My eyes were still watering and I my hands began to shake even more as I tucked them underneath me. Death was relevant now. I was going to die out here in the streets of Chicago and no one would notice it. The blood on my face was mixing in with the tears and landing in my mouth as it swept down my face. It was salty and cold. The last taste I would have before I left this world. I cried some more. This was all I could do. Thinking about every moment that happened before this leading up till now. A positive mindset was beyond my capability. All I could think about was the actions that led me here. What I did, what I didn’t do. Everything intertwined with each other. I wanted my mind to go blank and dark. My memories were not comforting. I gently used my sleeves to wipe away my tears. I reached into my back pocket and pulled out my wallet that had a photo of my mom. Her beautiful smile was keeping me alive. I felt her warmth and grace through the picture. Blood stains from my hand covered the corners of it but it still looked perfect. Her hair was perfect. The slick, laid down dress she was wearing was perfect. Her heels were perfect. Her and the baby she was holding were perfect in my eyes. Even with her gone, I could still feel her. Her energy was around me right now, telling me that everything will be okay. Her hugging me and kissing my forehead repeatedly. I touched her face with my finger. Blood covered it now. Tears once again fell as I held the picture close to me. My eyes couldn’t stay open forever. The fear of closing but never opening again was dormant. I shifted closer along the wall, barely moving an inch. If I die, then I die. I thought to myself as I knew i couldn’t stay awake forever. My eyes were heavy and my body needed rest. I held the picture even tighter in my arms as the world slowly started to get darker and darker.
By ABJ5 years ago in Humans
Hero's Journey
The day started like any other, wake up, roll off my futon, turn on the lights, which would scare the cockroaches back into their hiding places. I did this so I didn’t have to see them but boy did I know they were there. I took my minimal shower and got dressed in my waitress uniform. I know what you’re thinking this is going to be another wondered eye girl leaves suburban home to move to the big city with big dreams of fame and riches only to land on her butt in the food serving industry. Well then again, you would be half right only on the part about on my butt in the food service industry yet no I didn’t come to the city on flights of fancy. I came on the wings of getting out of the system and leaving the vultures that claim they love you but only notice you on the day of the month you get your check and food stamps. Not my life anymore, no way! I might only make peanuts but those peanuts are mine. Anyway, I just got my new found freedom a little under a month ago when I aged out. So, my little cockroach infested apartment was my castle though I would be eating sparsely like a college freshman budget for a while. It was heaven sent, to have a space I didn’t have to share with anyone. Probably now you’re thinking I have some sob story about parents dying tragically or drug addicts who traded me for some blow… those would be better than the fact I was just abandoned at the hospital. I have to chronically tell myself good ridden, they didn’t leave me I left them. After letting my mind meander over my past and I poured a bowl of knock off Cinnamon Toast Crunch. God, how I wished it was the name brand cause it tastes better and the cartoon character is cuter but it fills the tank so down the hatch. That was when there was a firm commanding knock at my door. It was too early for my neighbors who fought through the paper-thin walls. I didn’t think it was the manager cause I know I was paid through the end of the month. As I sat there contemplating who on earth was at the door, my brain kicked me into gear saying ‘all well answer it you buffoon’. I carefully stood on my tiptoes trying to peek through the eye hole thingy only to see strapping chest in blue. Ladies don’t always open a door for a yummy chest but anyway I opened the door and was greeted by three marines in their military uniforms. The one with the chiseled chest stained at me with his deep ocean blue eyes, Miss Williams?
By Ian Kippax5 years ago in Humans
An Albatross Off Course
Of my most valued possessions, the small black book is the one that I cherish the most. It comes before the ivory handled hairbrush gifted to me by my grandmother, before my collection of sea glass and razor clam shells. It comes before even the few terse letters I keep folded beneath the linens in the chest at the foot of my bed.
By Paige A.5 years ago in Humans
The New House
She didn’t like the house. She decided it right then and there as she unloaded plates, carefully unwrapping each one, and stacking them on a low shelf.
By Lia Aprile5 years ago in Humans
Semicolon savior II
It was a busy lunch already and it was just after 11:00, 11:11 to be exact. The space was all a mix of locals, lawyers and defendants. Some were talking over the people in line now extending past the door entrance. Others were checking in with family or passing time on social media. And the rest were eagerly waiting to make eye contact with me to place their order and to find a nearby table or park bench. Robert was busy outside talking with potential buyers and seemed to really be enjoying all this new exposure. His current piece was morphing into a restaurant at the edge of a galaxy, and almost every passerby stopped to admirer the hourly changes. The sun was shining and we were jumpin’. These days were the new norm now that Custer Coffee had been in business for over 5 years and had become the local “spot.” Consignment art pieces ranging from painted skateboards to homemade jewelry lined the walls and shelves, while the music ranged daily to whatever Pandora radio station we picked. It was a family owned spot where the owners kids were strung about the tables mingling with their regulars, or helping with dishes in the back. How far had it come in such a short time. Everyone seemed to know each other and if you were new to the area, you wouldn’t stay “new” for long.
By Healthy mountain gal Crystal5 years ago in Humans
Obliquity
1. n A mental deviation or perversity. Claire was listlessly channel-hopping when her mum’s odd behaviour caught her attention. Mal, a septuagenarian, had climbed onto her feet, perched at the edge of her orthopaedic-armchair, thrown her shawl over her head and was fidgeting erratically with a box of felt-tips.
By Crispin Thomas5 years ago in Humans
Genius Hesitates
The frame of your front door is ajar and it’s not the first time. You open it and look outside. There sitting conspicuously on your door mat is an old beaten up suitcase with a small black book. A note inside, “For you and your mom.”
By Elizabeth Mkhitarian5 years ago in Humans
A Warning from the Past
“I can not believe your grandmother is allowing us to have the house all to ourselves for the weekend” Ally said while stepping through the front door.
By Stephanie Strahler5 years ago in Humans
Hidden
My mum had died just over six months ago and I had been more than reluctant to start going through her stuff. Ever since she had bought the big house, I had been dreading the moment. I knew that one day she would die and that I would be left having to sort out the mess. To say that mum had been a hoarder would be an understatement. Well, she wasn’t a hoarder in the clinical sense of the word. She wasn’t like one of those people you sometimes see on TV who have to clamber over mountains of tied up old newspapers and huge balls of plastic bags, stuffed with nothing but more plastic bags. No, she wasn’t like that, she didn’t hoard rubbish, it was all valuable stuff, well, trinkets, really: little Bavarian porcelain dolls with chubby cheeks and cocked green hats, pairs of lead crystal swans with elongated necks entwined, drawers and drawers full of mismatched antique silverware - you name it, it was there, in this house. Mum had always jokingly quipped: “You’ll have to get a skip when I die.” She thought that was hilarious. I never found it very funny at all, as I always knew it wouldn’t be just the one skip that would be required. It would be more like a dozen skips and weeks, if not months, of tedious sifting through it all, piece by piece in order to determine which bits to chuck and which ones to sell. “Did I not want any of it for myself?” my friends keep asking me. Well, the answer is no, not really, I have everything I want and more in my own place, and mine and mum’s tastes have always been diametrically opposite. She loved chintz and tat, expensive tat, but tat nonetheless. Every surface in her home had always been covered in stuff, every sofa overloaded with hand-embroidered cushions and doilies. Opulent Persian rugs now covered the stone and parquet floors in this country house that she had bought 15 years ago. But even before then, even before the money, before the short lived fame and the well invested fortune, when we lived in a two bedroom flat without central heating, even back then, she would fill every empty space by cramming more stuff into it. Just stuff, and I had been sick of it for a long, long time.
By Christine5 years ago in Humans
The girl on the ground
1985 I am 5 years old. I am an awfully timid insecure little girl even at this age. I feel the awkwardness of my entire being deeply in my bones, and not just my bones do I feel, I feel the bones of every one else in my mum’s weekly G.I.R.S. group. Here they meet, misfit adults talking amongst each other for hours sharing their broken lives.
By Harmony McMaster5 years ago in Humans
The Birthday Gift
It wasn’t supposed to end this way. It wasn’t supposed to start this way either… Born and raised in the Carolina backwoods county of Oconee, my family lived crammed in a clapboard shanty for most of my childhood. Six kids, one bathroom, and a septic system that had a propensity for flooding the side yard with shit. We were the poorest people I knew.
By Sarah Likins5 years ago in Humans