literature
Families and literature go hand in hand; fictional families to entertain, reflect and inspire.
Another Day
For my earliest memory, my grandmother had been a secretive, old wort. Even though I had lived with her from three years old until my twenty-first birthday, I only knew three facts about her. She had once lived in France, my father was her only child and she disowned him upon the death of my mother. I was raised by her, or really lived with a series of nannies in her apartment on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. I hadn’t been back to that apartment in over 20 years. News of her passing reached me days after the event and returning to New York carried a heavy burden.
By Joann Amoroso5 years ago in Families
Dad's Little Black Book
For three solid weeks I punished myself by eating only cheezies and ice-cream because I had skipped my father’s funeral, although it is true that Maggie and I were expecting our fourth and fifth children and with babies on the way, new Covid restrictions, preparations for a major terraforming project on Mars using a synthetic self replicating bio-organic manure compound I developed, and Doodles, my fifteen year old show Pomeranian’s birthday party, I was swamped. There was a bounty of completely legitimate excuses for not showing up, but there was no escaping the guilt and it nagged at my conscience, briefly convincing me that I would live in eternal misery and shame which only a son who has failed to show up at his father’s funeral can understand. Still, things always seem to work out in the end and thankfully today, I have no regrets or even the tiniest bit of guilt for missing the funeral, since I happened upon a thing far more valuable than bitcoin or gold that day and because in the end I did find a way to pay my final respects to my father, I discovered a little black book and everything in our family changed for the better.
By Steven Hall5 years ago in Families
The Book of Stolen Wishes
Between the sirens and the explosion of chaos in the streets, I was finding it a little hard to concentrate on how the hell I was going to get us out of this mess. I mean, I'm an unemployed middle aged dad, not a hero by any means. This is not how I planned to spend my Tuesday, but it sure is one hell of a way to die.
By Mitch Lunsford5 years ago in Families
The Wayfaring Stranger
Joe moved in in the first week of August, less than two weeks after Anna’s father had quietly gathered his things in the early hours of the morning, and left. Her mother didn’t cry over him (at least not that Anna saw), and after a couple of days she borrowed markers from the neighbor, and she and Anna sat at the kitchen table drawing up flyers advertising room and board, for the little box room that overlooked the untidy communal yard.
By Beki Kennard5 years ago in Families
Dear Jonathan
Dear Jonathan I know there is no way to forgive me after what I have done to you and many many others but I hope to explain myself to you soon. As I currently stand I just want to inform you of where I am and why I am here and why I may never return. With how much Miss Godwill hates me, I doubt it will be long before I am gone. And no one gonna believe that a 88 year old is capable of murder. But trust me there is evil in those eyes and 0 smile lines. I don't think she knows how to smile.
By Charlie-Grace Underwood5 years ago in Families
After Noon
It’s just after noon. Summer is starting to thin into September, the trees are noisier, their dry leaves are scratching at the air, impatient. You leave in ten minutes, the world waiting to turn beneath your feet. It feels strange to think of you gone, to listen to an empty house, to hear the vacant air groan, to feel stillness. You’re leaving. Things are at an end. Life will need adjusting, I might move my bed to the window, or turn the living room around, plant a garden, something to trick myself out of missing you.
By Thomas Oliver5 years ago in Families
Black Alchemy
(Newsroom theme music playing) Male voice: And that about wraps it up for today, I’m Tom Mellencamp! Female voice: I’m Carolina Witherspoon, and this is Tiger Eagle News 117! Thank you for joining us, we look forward to being with you again tomorrow morning!
By Aaron Jones5 years ago in Families
Notebook of solace
I’m laying down in bed wondering when she’s going to come into my room. Right now, she’s smoking, sniffing, and drinking, she’s so high she’s stomping as if she can’t see where the ground stops. When she does finally come in, she doesn’t hit me, she never has, instead she says “Kahyler don’t be afraid to dream above what you see on the streets”. I said “yes mam” because momma don’t like to feel unheard, so I listened as she went on and on about how the streets offer you no love. I eventually began dosing off waking up occasionally to say, “yes mam”.
By Zin'nia Owens5 years ago in Families
Auntie Leigh
She hopped off the bus on a bright Thursday afternoon. The sun felt like it could burn through her skin. She turned 18 a few weeks ago and she was up for an adventure. The cash she’d saved since she was 16 was making itself useful, finally. You see, Jimmy’s Bowlin’ Alley only paid 4 bucks an hour and a girl can’t have much fun on that. But here she is, her life whole life in front of her, the world was calling her name and she answered it.
By Kiersten Adams5 years ago in Families
