family

Silence
The room was long and narrow, not much furniture and of a very white color, almost like the color of the coral sand outside the window. The sunlight danced off the sand and skipped along to the endless expanse of the Atlantic Ocean, glinting and shimmering as it moved along the waves. My mind traveled with it for a brief instant.
By John Bowen4 years ago in Fiction
Jilly the Spy
I pull the saw back and forth, back and forth, and watch a spray of tan-coloured dust fall around the base of the tree trunk. It’s not very thick—maybe six inches in diameter—but it takes a good deal of my strength to coax the blade through the dense wood.
By Kate Sutherland4 years ago in Fiction
The Tree With Edible Branches
Elliriana Maria-Flora Carvella Montenegro (Elli to her friends, Dorkface, dorkie, dorkaroony, or dorkatoon to her brother) tapped her phone. She was hanging precariously over the safety rails, putting all her focus on that magical snap about to happen.
By Marit von Stedingk4 years ago in Fiction
Becoming Numb
It’s been twenty days now, twenty days of hell and three days of seeing you in my dreams. The last time I saw you, in reality, was twenty-six days ago. The last time I saw you in my dreams was a few hours ago.
By Gerald Holmes4 years ago in Fiction
A PARTRIDGE IN A PEAR TREE
I think I was sane when I woke up this morning. At least nothing had pointed to the contrary. A day spent shopping. What could go wrong?
By Margaret Flood4 years ago in Fiction
Under a Pear Tree
My home is quiet, not even with my cat purring being heard from the other room. Sitting on my window seat, looking out into the orchestra naturally playing outside. Something about rain and her music brings memories to the frontest part of your mind.
By Mary Crawley4 years ago in Fiction
Writing on Books
I, Laura Fern, committed a sacrilege: I wrote on a book. Yes, a lot of people circle words they don’t understand, highlight sentences that thrilled them and what not. For me, pressing a pen against a book was like dropping the flag on the ground. I even fought with my mom over writing my name on my textbooks back in middle school. She won, but I sweated trying to draw my handwriting as neat and straight as possible.
By Elizabeth Rojas4 years ago in Fiction
At the Pear Tree
The crackling of the fluorescent lights overhead were the only sound audible in the little room the hospital had labeled “the chapel”. Sara had fallen to her knees on the deep, red carpet and had begun praying to a God she wasn’t even sure she believed in anymore. Tears clouded her vision and she felt as though her heart would explode right from her chest.
By S Baumann4 years ago in Fiction
Reunion, Sorrow And Everything In Between
[Beep] pain. [Beep] anxiety. [Beep] helplessness. All encumbered onto that lone creaky bench beside the ICU. Sat on it was Imran.
By Zaid Khan4 years ago in Fiction
Johnny and His Tree
"Johnny!" "Almost finished mom!" The young boy called down from the hill. "Supper is ready!" Johnny's mother announced in a tone that begged haste.
By Jake Xagas4 years ago in Fiction
The Pear Tree
The pear tree was a fixture in the front yard of my childhood home. First, the flowers would bloom, then the pears would grow as the petals fell into the yard. I loved catching a petal and rubbing its soft surface between my fingers.
By A. G. White4 years ago in Fiction
A Broken Mom
Maria had low self esteem. She married a man by the name of Shawn at the age of 23. She had been in love with Shawn for all of her teenage years. Living in 1970’s Port Au Prince, Haiti, status would depend on money and skin color. Those who were of lighter skin tone were seen to be privileged over those who were with a darker complexion. Being that Maria had skin as dark as night, she fell for Shawn who had skin as yellow as the sun.
By My Journey as A Entrepreneur4 years ago in Fiction