literature
Families and literature go hand in hand; fictional families to entertain, reflect and inspire.
Wanderlust
My family is very good at one thing, sweeping problems under the rug. We are raised to keep face and carry on like nothing’s wrong. It never bothered me until today. Today, my favorite aunt died suddenly of cancer. I was not even aware she was sick. She was hiding the illness from me. I am not sure if she was hiding it as a way to avoid talking about it or she was worried how I would take it.
By Ariana Micheal5 years ago in Families
A library's secret, a grandmother's legacy
August 1st, 1939 Jagiellonian University, Krakow, Poland Katrzyna felt her heart start to beat faster as she quietly winded through the University library’s corridors. Their train was leaving at 6 am tomorrow, what if they weren’t let on? What if one of the border agents was a spy, and stopped them for questioning? Her mind reeling with questions, and with a stack of books hiding the metal box in her arms, she tried to focus on the task at hand. It might not work, she thought. They could destroy the whole library, just as they destroyed the lives of so many. Someone could catch her with the box in that moment, and wonder if she was doing anything else besides cataloging a few first editions. She had to try, though. If she could save only one thing, she had to try and save at least this.
By Maria Pogroszewska5 years ago in Families
The Little Black Notebook
Intact dignity has proven to be a rarity by the end of many in their thirties. Brenton always blamed himself for working too hard and had lived with the guilt heartily. Thinking back on his grandiose wedding day, there certainly were flickering red flags from her displayed tantrums. Despite the pain of the divorce, he had composed himself quickly and proceeded to bury himself into work. Brenton was athletic and disciplined in many areas. He didn’t do this for revenge but had a refusal to fall into his own depressive thoughts. As an entrepreneur, he dabbled in unspecified investments while married and afterwards fully executed them. After being pulled through divorce sludge, losing his home, his wife, his pets, and money, perhaps the universe would finally come back to his favor.
By Serra Nicole5 years ago in Families
Found in the Woods
“Jacob, Buddy, I love you and I’m sorry. I never wanted this and never thought it would come to this. I only wanted to make things right for you and Mom, but….well, life happens. You would have found that out soon enough, but I hate that I’m the one teaching you that lesson.
By Patrick Rose5 years ago in Families
The Sacred Blank Page
Ever since he passed away three years ago, I’ve felt lost. The world seems to be void of magic; made up of solid things, and it never tires of reminding me where I belong: at the bottom of it all. Yet, every now and then, something happens that just… well, that just rekindles the sorry remnants of an ancient flame.
By Keyrad Mehr5 years ago in Families
Kitchen Oddity
“Wake me up, before you—" Groan. I forgot to turn off my automatic alarm. You’d think it’d be easy to set it up so it would only go off on weekdays to let me sleep in on weekends, but evidently not. I ventured a single appendage out from under the comforter to turn off the alarm on my phone, making a mental note to delete this “wake-up music” alarm app—the music they choose may be great for my parents, but in the month I’ve tried it, there has not been a single song that was written in my lifetime.
By Jessica Rugani5 years ago in Families
The Unknown Soldier
To be honest, I hardly knew the man. He was a divorcee living in Bridgeport, and I a film student in San Francisco. There are two pictures of him hanging in my parent’s hallway, one wearing an army uniform and another jamming with some rock band as a teenager. I heard very little about him until the eve of my graduation, when my parents announced his death. His belongings were poured over without much fuss. I, being the only child, was awarded the box of leftover items –a weathered black notebook, guitar picks, a key, and a some Italian currency. The notebook’s pages were filled with carefully scripted writing. After determining that the sixty thousand Lire was all but worthless, I filed the box in the back of my closet where it stayed for the next couple of months.
By Brant Blower5 years ago in Families
