literature

Families and literature go hand in hand; fictional families to entertain, reflect and inspire.

Red King
We split the house, Simon and me, and I couldn’t complain. I got the garage. Simon had it worse. God knew what was still collecting dust in the old house, our father’s collected history of us, of his life before the divorce, before he moved in with Denise to hers, and, eventually, the pair of them pulled up stakes to find their own new frontier untrammeled by memories of either ex. I visited that new house once, the year after they moved in. It looked like a real-estate staging. Here’s the living room. Here’s the dining room. Here’s where we’re planning the addition. Here’s the kitchen. No pictures on the walls. This is the world we built, without you in it. And why shouldn’t he? He brought us up, as best he could, along with our mother. Why did I feel like he owed anything to us?
By Matt Largo5 years ago in Families
Je Ne Sais Quoi
I could practically feel my pupils expand as I stepped outside, the cloudy grey sky a stark contrast to the fluorescent lights I’d just spent the last ten hours under. I inhaled, breathing in the fresh, crisp air. Free. At. Last. My stomach let out a loud grumble, reminding me the measly protein bar I’d eaten earlier wasn’t nearly enough to sustain a 200 (okay, 210) pound man. I’d walked to and from work every day for the last 3 weeks. It had been a long, harsh winter but the snow was finally melting and spring was on the horizon. I figured I’d kill two birds with one stone: lose a few inches and save on gas money. My car was a junker anyway, twelve years old and nearing its last leg. Assuming my hard work would lead to a promotion by years end, I planned on buying a brand new BMW 5 Series. The pressure was on. Often all that got me through my hectic workdays was the anticipation of that fresh new car smell, the cool, leather interior on my skin, the rev of a powerful engine. I needed that raise.
By K R5 years ago in Families
Dare To Believe
Elle knew she wasn't getting what she wanted out of life, she just didn’t know how, and she was doubtful about whether or not she ever would. The frustration was unbearable. Most of Elle's days were spent by herself wondering, “why me?”
By Blair Avery5 years ago in Families
Grandmother's Skin
Words are just pictures when you think about it. A string of pictures in an order that someone, too long ago to think about, decided looked just right.
By Hannah Webbe5 years ago in Families
All The Gone Things
All The Gone Things The extraordinariness of losing, finding, and losing again The sudden jolt from his body surprised me. Rushing to make the subway, he had knocked into my body as we passed, him entering and I leaving. Hard. I stumbled, so did he. It was an accident but it struck me as horribly violent. I’d been daydreaming; it brought me back to reality with a harsh jolt. It struck me how quickly an unexpected touch can make its way into your bones.
By Anne Thompson5 years ago in Families
Seekers of Time
The days start and stop the same way. My first alarm snatches me away from the comfort of my dreams at seven forty-seven AM. Suddenly, eighteen minutes pass when my second alarm goes off and I roll myself out of bed and proceed with getting ready for work. My breakfast usually consists of the first protein bar I can get my hands on and tea as I rush out the door, trying to escape my curse of always being late.
By Talen Riley5 years ago in Families
Puzzled
Dust, loose hairs, cobwebs, angled pictures and paintings, and an oppressive stench of wet dog. I took my last deep breath of unstained air before closing the maple door behind me. Levi had told me to take my shoes off before entering, but I absolutely will not ruin my socks.
By Josh Negri5 years ago in Families
The Ticket
I turned, pressing my face up against the cold glass of the car window. I would do anything to stop the pounding in my temples. It seemed as if my ears had been ringing and my head pounding since my mother’s lips formed the words, “Your father passed away last night.” It’s as if the words flicked some type of switch in my head, turning on the ringing and pounding in order to drown out the words coming from her mouth. I shook my head trying to stop the sound so I could hear her, but I realized I didn’t need to hear her. I knew what she said. She said my life would never be the same.
By Lisa Ash 5 years ago in Families
True Inheritance
Never lose track of your dreams. That was the phrase written on the back of half a bank envelope. It’s one of the many scratch papers that I had inherited.
By Corrie McGee5 years ago in Families
Can't Never Could
It’s been decades now since I last saw my grandmother, but she still continues to marvel me every day. Every morning when I wake up, I’m always reminded by her ingenuity and strong sense of empathy. She was 76 when she passed. Up until her last days, she always maintained the ability to see long term, “the big picture” as she always said, better than anyone I had ever known. Because of her foresight, her intuition, I have been able to accomplish the things that I have. Without her, none of this would be possible. I wake up every morning knowing that all of this happened because ultimately, she believed in me. My grandmother was more than just my grandmother. She was my mentor, my best friend and my first real investor.
By Bunchie Bunches5 years ago in Families
Future Trees
March 21, 2020 Dear My Future Children, Should I ever afford you, I hope this is some proof that I have dreamt you, and somehow the world seems to shine of moonbeams and butterflies today. Sure, your future mom sounds lame, I can’t help it right now. Your future father asked me to marry him two days ago. Let’s be clear, I’m 35, and have lived my life like this may never happen. Glad I waited. Your father is the best, remember that. I hope to keep these letters coming, but I’m going to go enjoy the way the light warms me through the ruins here, and your dad is about to come back with some coffee. I love you now, will love you always, hopefully you turned out ok. - Me
By Chelsea Dee Miller5 years ago in Families
It's Time
Sometimes when I wake, I still see images of that summer fresh in my mind. I envision Mr. Brinkley, sitting in the shared garden behind our house, writing in his notebook. The late afternoon shadows falling down around him.
By Rachel Cannon5 years ago in Families