family

To The Smoke That Rose
The ice was the quickest way around when the cold months hit. As much as the horses and carriages had ice spikes attached to avoid the slippage, skating was a prized alternative.
By Oneg In The Arctic4 years ago in Fiction
The Thaw
To call the body of water in the center of my hometown a lake, was to be very generous. Walking the circumference of its shores wasn’t as much a day hike as it was a pleasant stroll; what's more, standing at any point around its perimeter, one could easily see the opposite side, even on a foggy day. I always thought of it as more of a pond, than a lake. Large pond, small lake. Of course, if it had been any smaller, the ‘last big freeze,’ might’ve actually happened.
By Willow J. Fields4 years ago in Fiction
Winter Reflections
Dear Son, I remember the long winter days in Connecticut. As a child, I loved them. Waking up to see snow falling in fluffy, white flakes like little bits of cotton floating down from the sky and coating the yard, watching my breath frost the window and pressing my nose against the cold glass to get a better look outside, feeling the warmth of the old cast iron heater against my hands after I came in from playing in the snow, sipping hot chocolate in an oversized mug, the thrill of missing a day of school and getting to stay home, enjoying the winter wonderland. Christmas was always the best. Our neighbor had a pond in his backyard and when it froze over he would decorate it with a bunch of Christmas lights, deer, angels, all glowing in the night to create a fairytale scene on the pond. As I got older, I played less and shoveled more. The cold irritated me, freezing me from the outside in on my short, half-mile walk to school. In college, my car slipped on some ice and I narrowly avoided death. My love for winter came to an abrupt halt, one that caused me to move halfway down the coast to South Carolina.
By J. Lozada4 years ago in Fiction
Watching The Pond Freeze
He has been coming to this spot for the past fifteen years. He sits, he listens, he waits. She told him if he ever wanted to speak to her, all he had to do, was return here.
By Anthony Diaz4 years ago in Fiction
When Spiders Fly
Tension hung over the room. Pissed off, my fists clamped tight while my older brother sat across from me, speechless. His eyes were full of shock at the outburst. I paced in front of the couch trying to unclamp my fists.
By Jake Hartline4 years ago in Fiction
The Frozen Heart
It had been a long, cold winter. For two weeks, roads were closed due to the amount of ice on the ground. Schools and businesses were shut down, and electricity had been lost. For a small town in Mississippi, this was all but unheard of. Winters were generally mild, sometimes even warm. But not this winter. This winter was different, in more ways then just the weather.
By Judith Jascha4 years ago in Fiction
On Frozen Pond
She was just a child when it happened, but for the rest of her life she would remember the silent scream, the sadness in the eyes of the emergency medical technicians that cold winter day as they braced themselves against the bitter wind, a thin screen of blown snow creating ghostly shapes in the low winter sun as they buckled under the sudden dead weight of a slight, slender teenage girl who had drowned saving her baby sister, an imaginary princess immersed in an imaginary fairy tale, beyond thinking, in a fairytale wonderland of happiness ever after.
By Hamish Alexander4 years ago in Fiction
The Fury
Flashes of color, blinding in their intensity bring pain to my eyes. Great swirling clouds of smoke move between the buildings, billowing high above the rooftops and spreading through the woods, filling the gaps between the trees. I can no longer see the path as I stumble along in the intense heat and choking fumes, but I must, I must keep going; there is nothing behind me now, nothing to go back to. I have to go on.
By Ronald Gordon Pauley4 years ago in Fiction
Storm Damage
The day after the storm, Daddy took his cane and went out to look at the damage. “You’d better go after him, Caroline. He’s got that look in his eyes,” Deb warned.
By Sarah Finley 4 years ago in Fiction
Homecoming
Randall comes home by bus. The Greyhound takes him to the edge and barely stops to drop him off. He hitches a ride to the center of town, where school is just getting out. Ellis is still driving after all these years, and when he offers her his finest Army salute, she pulls the yellow bus over and welcomes him aboard, just as she did on his first day of first grade and the last day of eighth. The kids on the bus look at his uniform and his duffel, and without knowing what else to do, he asks:
By Dane BH4 years ago in Fiction
On Frozen Pond
As Time Goes By, Tony Dorsey Band, 1943 The stellar view of the almost frozen pond and wind-danced trees from the enclosed porch reminded me of the saying, time waits for no one. Valerie, my daughter, a self-proclaimed exception, was late as usual. She pulled into the gravel driveway in her Hybrid vehicle, came inside and greeted Papa, her grandfather, and me with a hug. At eighty-nine years old, Papa had been physically struggling the past month, and I encouraged her to visit him. Like the short days of winter we endured, his time on earth was limited. She hadn't seen him in over a year and not since they had a heated argument about the person of her romantic interests.
By J. S. Wade5 years ago in Fiction
The Edgewater
He selected a chocolate from the crystal bowl. The exterior was frosted with divots. The bowl reminded him of a snapping turtle that caught his line by mistake two summers ago on the pond. He hoped he snagged a walleye…but it felt bulkier, like an old tire. His heart beat faster as he reeled in the line. When the rough uneven half moon emerged from the water, he felt a pang of grief for the turtle. The hook penetrated the left side of her cheek. Somehow he believed it was a girl.
By Lydia Larson5 years ago in Fiction