family

Family unites us; but it's also a challenge. All about fighting to stay together, and loving every moment of it.

What Happens When Nothing Is Done
The worst kind of running away, he knows now, is that from your own country. Standing on the wooden dock of the cargo ship, a pack on his back, Hmin Myint Lu withered silently in the smoky winter air. No breeze blew to lighten his breath, so he felt for the last time the suffocating city smog, watched as the heat of the late afternoon shattered against the golden tip of the Shwedagon Pagoda. As the ship crept downriver, Hmin wondered if this was the last of Myanmar that King Thibaw and the beautiful Queen Supayalat had seen, too, upon their exile more than a century ago. The city of Yangon would’ve looked different then—no grand colonial buildings imposed in the centre; no rickety, low-cost development complexes cluttering the skyline; no glossy skyscrapers lifted in celebratory dominance—yet the unfaded green and gold, he knew, had been there, the brushes of jungle and glittered pagodas that endured war, earthquakes, democracy and dictatorship. Hmin wondered if the King and Queen had considered them all as he did now—lost to him yet timeless, as momentary flashes of the dearest memory. But his musings were short-lived, for he remembered that as captives of the British Empire the King and Queen must've been held below deck. So he watched it all shrink from view, and he knew then that his body, too, would stay suspended in this air—held as it was, burning and stifled, in the broken beams of the same, endless sun.
By Rose Mitchel5 years ago in Humans
Dream in a Drawer
Opening his small mailbox Abbot found it stuffed with a bubble wrap lined brown envelope. The carrier had wedged it solidly in place with a fast food flyer, a car dealership postcard, and a bill. Abbot grumbled at the bill while walking to his apartment. Unlocking the door he read the sender's address on the brown envelope. Abbot told his phone to call ‘ Auntie Dearest’. The nickname was a bad joke picked up from a highschool literature assignment that examined ‘ The letter in the Victorian Novel.’ Holding the phone to his ear with his shoulder Abbot tried to tear open the package.
By Brent Merrill5 years ago in Humans
Crumbs
They sat around the conference table at Michaels & Smith’s firm. The other six grandchildren were eager to learn what we had inherited from our grandma.
By A. L. Jobrail5 years ago in Humans
The Old Man´s Diary
1. Our car rolled slowly along the moss-grown driveway. You could hear the gravel under the weight of the vehicle and thus provided an acoustic background for our arrival. I had been looking forward to this moment for so many weeks. The windows of our Ford were wide open and the scent of the thick forest slowly filled the interior of the car. My girlfriend deeply inhaled the summery smell of pine needles, damp grass, and the fragrant country air.
By Gunther Polnizky5 years ago in Humans
The Black Notebook Tale
The Black Notebook Tale There was once a popular fiction book that an author had once written. The tales of Red Riding Hood. Many versions have been taken from the original Little Red Riding Hood story, but what many do not know is that the book comes from a true story. A little black book holds contains this true tale and it had belonged to a young girl who lived in a small village that was tormented by a big bad wolf. It all began on a cold winter day.
By Krysta Anderson5 years ago in Humans
True Riches
'It was just a bad dream and when you open your eyes it'll all be better.' Sophie lay in bed, pressing back the anxiety that threatened to take her over like a wave. The phone call she'd received yesterday seemed a million years ago.
By Laura Bremmer5 years ago in Humans
Unusual Scavenger Hunt
My phone woke me in the middle of the night. It was my Mom; she said my Great Aunt Marla died, she had been ill. There would be a Wake and a funeral over the next few days. After the funeral, family members would meet with Great Aunt Marla’s lawyer to discuss her Will. She didn’t have any kids. Her only living relatives being my Grandpa, my Mom, my Uncle and his three kids, and me.
By Amber Dulaney5 years ago in Humans
A Morning in Manhattan
“All Done!” Alice smiled as she reread the 70 names, written in the small black notebook, one last time. Then, satisfied, she set it down gingerly on the edge of the coffee table. Jack, her old, fat, and half-deaf beagle was sprawled out lazily on the living room rug. Alice bent down to scratch behind the ear he could no longer reach with his bad leg. Jack leaned into her, grateful for the help.
By Sara Dillon5 years ago in Humans
Terese's Mother
Terese’s one-bedroom apartment in the City - the only one she had lived in since arriving there fresh out of college 5 years earlier, the one she loved as home - always left her mother gasping for breath. It was not the modest living room, the tiny and windowless galley kitchen, or the bedroom with the one big, casement window that looked out onto a moderately busy, but homey, neighborhood street – and, thankfully, a mature London planetree below - that left her mother stricken during her twice-yearly visits. In fact, the air flowed miraculously freshly into and through the little apartment. Rather, her mother needed color. She breathed it in through her eyes like oxygen. And Terese had audaciously painted all of the walls of her apartment a uniform, crisp white. She had also chosen only modern, clean furniture in shades of grey and white. Even the throw pillows were grey. The art, to add insult to her mother’s injury, consisted entirely of framed black and white photographs.
By WS Ball5 years ago in Humans
Waves of Emotion
In the old sea village of Montauk there is humble pier that resides on the beach that allows a resident to gaze into the never-ending ocean. An old town lore says that if you look out long enough on that pier, in the early hours of the morning you can see the moon, sun and stars all at the same time.
By nycsir5 years ago in Humans
Two Books. One Story.
The morning began a little differently than other mornings. Lillian, who was usually an early riser, was moving slowly fighting a seemingly unending battle with the alarm clock. She had spent the majority of the night before pouring over countless letters bearing red words stamped on the front. At the bottom of this mountain of misery, Lillian had discovered an eviction notice. Being fairly new to the area and struggling from month to month to make ends meet, she felt hopeless and was looking at the gut-wrenching option of being forced to return to her hometown. Her hometown was narrow-minded and where she had ended a horrible relationship and lost her mother unexpectedly, which was really what prompted her to make her move to the big city. She hit snooze one last time and threw back the covers. Left leg off the bed. Right leg off the bed. She shuffled to the bathroom and slowly looked in the mirror. Her eyes; red and swollen. Her mouth; dry and chapped. Her hair; tangled and messy. She took a deep breath, started the shower, and hoped for a miracle.
By Tiffany Anderson5 years ago in Humans
Bidder Number 12
Going ONCE, going TWICE… and SOLD to Bidder Number 12! Joe adjusted his bow tie and flattened the creases of his blazer, as he heard the applause ring through the auditorium, following the thud of the auctioneer’s gavel. He stood primed in position, backstage, ready to transport item 57 to Bidder Number 12.
By Nisha Kaur5 years ago in Humans