family
Family unites us; but it's also a challenge. All about fighting to stay together, and loving every moment of it.
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
And The Angels Shall Sing
He looked nervously around. It wasn't exactly the most comfortable situation, no matter how wonderful the gesture was. He was the only male in the car, and most likely, the only male that would be at their destination. But, he knew he needed to be there. He knew it deep in his soul. No matter how uncomfortable he was, this is where he was supposed to be.
By Skye Tandy5 years ago in Humans
Overnight
Mason had never been to a funeral before. Let alone one being held for two people. But how many six-year-olds had? A lot of people came to give their condolences. All of them dressed in black and with unfamiliar faces. Everyone greeted Mason with warm affection. His face twisted with uncertainty after each foreign hug. Was he supposed to be happy to see them too?
By Azurai Lynne5 years ago in Humans
The Midnight Sun
The whole world feels hushed and still as we stand together on the pier and watch the sun sink towards the horizon. We’ve come all this way just for this moment, no more than a few seconds, maybe a minute. The sun will slip beneath the sea and then it will rise again, phoenix-like, to shine benevolently once more.
By Kate Hewitt5 years ago in Humans
Pens and paper
Yet another gloomy morning, the weather hasn’t been on the bright side these past weeks. The smell of freshly ground coffee infuses the air, its spicy and chocolatey aromas warming up Kyle’s senses. She brings the cup to her lips and takes a sip before licking the froth rushing down the side of it.
By Andie Emerson5 years ago in Humans
Left Behind
When the big man and nice lady picked me up from school, she said that my grandpa couldn't come to pick me up. I was nervous cuz Papa always picks me up after school. He would carry me on his shoulders into the gas station every day for a soda pop on our way home, and I would tell him all about my day as I tugged at his bushy white beard. It always felt super rough in my hands. We would go home and he would tell me stories of his adventures from his little black book. There wasn't anything on the front of it and he would never let me look inside. But he always had so many long stories about magical adventures, I figured it was magic too. There was no other explanation. I asked the nice lady why my Papa wasn't here, but all she would say is "He just couldn't be here right now." and put on a plastic Barbie smile. Her eyes did not carry the same energy though, they seemed dull or shallow. The big man was driving us somewhere now and he hasn't said a word at all the whole time. Maybe he was mad that he had to pick me up today. Maybe it would just be better for all of us if my Papa just picked me up.
By Anthony Derschon5 years ago in Humans
Little Black Book
As past events in my life began to unfold, I found myself losing grip on reality. 20 years of hardship and heroin led to the loss of my marriage, a relationship that I felt defined a huge portion of my life. We tried to make it work but when our 10 month old daughter passed whatever remained just crumbled.
By Tommee Samsara5 years ago in Humans
The Cadillac
The Cadillac by: benjamin murray jr Growing up Country, surrounding by the natural crops of the seasons were not bad for a negro boy of 1947. I had no dreams or desires, aspirations but to play, playing was my game and I felt no shame. Saturdays was going to town day (The Back Lot) where the real playing begin.
By Benjamin Murray5 years ago in Humans
