literature
Families and literature go hand in hand; fictional families to entertain, reflect and inspire.
The Thief and the King
In the month of July, our condition was worsening. For each impoverished family that lived in the slums of Bengal during the draught of 1600 - only 2 cups of rice were to be permitted per day. I could no longer walk to the palace of the King, Ghulam Musaroor, the protagonist of this melancholy occasion, without absorbing the cries from children that lay next to dead mothers & fathers, ‘Babi! Babi! My mommy!’ from one side of the street. On the other side, bodies that lay like a winding array of fallen dominoes with stomachs that had dissolved to a thin layer of skin.
By Lewis Allsop5 years ago in Families
Her Hands
Today would be the day that this would happen. It wasn't like she hadn't tried this before. And usually, it led to the same results: come back next time. The lines had always been so long that by the time she got to the front, it was closed. Today was different; today she got in. The line to the Western Union wrapped around the corner, as it usually did. Mid-February, below-freezing temperatures at 11:30 am; what else would you expect from Chicago? Camila was prepared though. Doubled-up wool socks, two pairs of sweats, more sweaters than she could recall, topped off with an old coat, a beanie, and a pair of gloves. There was something different about today's attempt to get into Western Union and retrieve the money her sister had sent her. She had woken up 11:11 am, and as if Camila weren't superstitious enough, she rushed out of bed and got to the Western Union, thinking that unintentionally waking up at a time when some people make wishes would make her wish come true. "What's so special about 4 1's?" she thought to herself. But she didn't question it. If it could bring her luck, she'd believe in it.
By Alex Fernandez5 years ago in Families
The Wisp of the Willow
The book was whispering again. Laurel did her best to ignore it, but sometimes it would yell its whispers, and other times it would mutter under its breath. Either way, there was a low guttural noise coming from the book since she woke up this morning.
By Tabitha Martin5 years ago in Families
Painted Rocks and the Little Black Book
The town was covered with a fresh coat of snow. The streets were newly plowed and glistened which was in stark contrast with the high mounds of flat white in the yards that lined them. At one point in the not too distant past the town was teaming with both work and legend, it was hustle and bustle by day chatter and whisper by night. Where once knick-knack shops and boutique stores thrived, now were boarded up windows and empty storefronts with sidewalks that go unshoveled. Across the street, where the sidewalks were cleared by the town’s people, Phoenix walks hand-in-hand with his mother, Anne. They walk slowly, being sure to check for icy spots. Phoenix watching his feet avoid the ice, and cracks for good measure. His eyes strayed from his task to be taken with the views from across the street and then bounced up to find his mother’s gaze.
By Gareth Cliff5 years ago in Families
Windflowers
Ms. Agatha Windflower had died as she lived; alone in the red-brick house at the top of the hill on Evergreen Lane surrounded by antiques and an unhealthy layer of dust. Despite having lived next door, Rose didn't know much about Ms. Windflower. Though she was often outside, Rose hadn't stopped to greet the elderly woman. Besides, Ms. Windflower had not acquainted herself with Rose as the other residents of Evergreen Lane had, so Rose assumed that Ms. Windflower wanted to be left alone -- something that Rose understood. Spring Hollow was a town of friendly neighbours, and 37 years of living in peaceful urban anonymity had not prepared Rose for the rural intrusion of unearned intimacy.
By Nick MacMillan5 years ago in Families
Probability Exceeds Possibility
Luck is an intriguing concept. The random chance of the odds being your favor in any given circumstance whenever opportunity strikes. This idea was beheld by those around me but never indulged itself to be present for me, I guess I shouldn't have expected much of a random force that is likely a false superstition. As mysterious and questionable it’s existence was in my life, I still treat it as though it was its own entity capable of complex cognition. Describe it to myself as though it was toying with me, laughing at me, finding every pleasure in my suffering while making the existence of others, “Sooo great!” I just gave in one day. I decided no need for a stupid unknown force to give me help. I will accept my fate in this world, become another cog in the machine that is society. A mindless drone,working my life away to create my own future, even if it meant working half my life. I was willing to do it.
By Jeff Reichman5 years ago in Families
Insecurities
It was a Friday night at open mic and Nicky was about to take the stage. He had a 7 min slot and enough jokes to last an hour and the last comic blew the roof off the place. By this time, his nerves had kicked in, he knew his topic was about insecurities in men, and hoped the audience would take to his racy comments and explicit content. He says a prayer as the announcer takes the microphone from the last act. “The next comic taking the stage, by way of Brooklyn, New York, give a warm welcome for Nicky Russo.”
By JaVon Harris5 years ago in Families
Choti Chirya
I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply as I waited for my chai (tea in Urdu) to warm up in the microwave. Over the noise of the microwave, the sound of rain drops falling outside had a calming effect. I closed my eyes for a moment but was brought back by the sharp beep of the microwave. I grabbed my chai and my little black book and walked to the living room to sit on the green leather chair near the window. I put the chai down, grabbed my pen and started to flip through. Names, lots of names which would not mean anything for anyone else reading through the pages except me. The names belonged to all the patients I have ever treated. I flipped the pages until I found the end of the list and wrote the latest entry, Nadeem Saeed. All these patients were special to me, but Nadeem especially meant a lot more. I leaned back again and closed my eyes while listening to the storm outside, drifting into my thoughts diving into the memories that the name I just wrote ignited.
By Tahira Mursleen5 years ago in Families
What Is Meant to Be
Upheaval. That was the correct word for the current state of Curtis’ life. Between his family moving, his coming out, and his grief over his goal to become an artist, everything was chaotic. He knew being a teenager was supposed to involve angst, but this was a shade too far. He liked their new house, and his parents only wanted him to be happy, but there was a lot of new coming at him right now, and he longed for a little peace. The good thing about this move is their new neighborhood offered tons of new ideas for sketches, and art had always been an escape for him.
By Christie Williamson5 years ago in Families
What it Takes
It had been quite the weekend in Las Vegas. Alan had told his wife he was going for a work colleague’s bachelor party, which was only partially a lie. He had attended a bachelor party, as well as several other lucrative private appointments, but they weren’t with colleagues from work. Alan didn’t like lying to Julie, but he knew she just wouldn’t understand. Coming home with over twenty thousand dollars stowed in a manilla envelope somewhat lessened the guilt. It would pay for their next family vacation, help get Julie’s online business up and running and maybe even afford a few new glitzy outfits, with plenty left over to put towards Billy’s college fund.
By Shane Grant5 years ago in Families
