family
Family unites us; but it's also a challenge. All about fighting to stay together, and loving every moment of it.
The missing piece
A breath of fresh air. That’s exactly what I needed. After spending endless hours stuck at my utterly uncomfortable wooden chair and half-collapsed on just as unbearably hard school desk, my back cramps are worse than ever. Three more years and I’ll be glad to leave this place.
By Kaja Posnik5 years ago in Humans
Granny
Granny Granny. She lived to be 105 and half years old. She was my great-grandmother. She was a grandmother to many, but a mother of two. She was a daughter; the eldest out of a family of 14. Now, that's a lot of kids! Back then, they didn't have television. So, I am guessing they made children in their spare time. She was kind. She was extremely entrepreneurial in nature. She was magnetic. She was also a figure of hope and inspiration to the masses. But personally, she was…
By Gary Francis5 years ago in Humans
The Gilded Shepherd
The sky blazed with brushstrokes of indigo and peach, dawn breaking over the small sheep farm just outside the village of Pettigo. The last signs of evening faded, revealing a thatched white cottage surrounded by a large garden, a small pond at its centre. Between the garden and a grove of wych elm sat a sheep pen and a greenhouse.
By Niall Weber5 years ago in Humans
Growing up in Grief - Part 2: Fear, Freedom and Fromage
Today, cheese made me burst into tears. Yes, cheese. Medium cheddar, specifically. There I was sitting at my desk in silence, minding my own business, eating my cheese (medium cheddar)… with big, hot, uncontrollable tears running down my cheeks. True story.
By Rachel DuRossier 5 years ago in Humans
The Little Black Book
Peter has had no contact with his mother for almost 8 years now. She had recently learned where he was living, and this concerned him. His mother was the type of woman who loved sabotaging good things in his life. He was frantically thinking of ideas and precautions he could take to avoid things getting unpleasant. His mother had a felony in malicious mischief so he would not put it past her to cause trouble but did not know what he could do to prevent the chaos in advance instead of having to deal with the aftermath.
By Jubilee Dueck5 years ago in Humans
Requiem
There I was. Standing like an idiot in my dirty converse and a wrinkled suit coat. I was not the example of fashion at this occasion. Not knowing if I should sit or stand, I just stood. Like a post, the less I move, maybe the more no one will notice that I'm here. I glance around the room as my family breaks down around me. It smells of formaldehyde and a freshly vacuumed rug, with a pungant after scent of some citrus disinfectant spray. Flowers had been perfectly arranged around the room and the music, soft, un-offensive and boring. Made up of light pianos and what sounds like the dustiest organ from the ruins of a Presbyterian church service. My mother, eyes closed, looked to be at peace. She doesn't look at me though. She can't look at me. For here I stand at the side of my mother's coffin. This is my mother's funeral, and I feel as though I am empty. Not particularly sad, just vacant in mind and body.
By Tristin Robinson5 years ago in Humans
Growing up in Grief - Part One of Many
The teenage years are the most formative ones of your life. Every gust of wind pushes or pulls you in one direction or another towards who you will eventually become. Every shade or nuance shapes our views of the world… of ourselves. We are truly a product of our environment. With all this change, it’s an understatement to say that the transition from childhood into teenager land can be a tough phase of life – no salt added.
By Rachel DuRossier 5 years ago in Humans
Daydream Believer
It wasn’t a good day for a crisis. It was cloudy, and the air smelled of rain. Jean’s favourite sort of weather. So she tried to stay calm. Almost there, I’m leaving soon, she thought. Or staying, maybe I should stay. She had been feeling quite despondent towards the idea of leaving her childhood home. She was almost to the point of being maudlin.
By Ava Violet5 years ago in Humans
The Key
Life has a way of throwing many curve balls. No one knows this better than I. Fifteen years ago, both my parents' life was swiftly and tragically snuffed out, leaving me the “text book” orphan at the tender age of three. I don’t remember much of them...only faint echoes of my mother's contagious laughter and my father’s hypnotic singing voice that would lull me to sleep. Mom was in the final stages of expecting the little brother I never knew. While in their haste to hurry to the hospital to deliver him, their truck was hit by a drunk driver, killing all involved. People all over town said this was the day that turned my beautiful Nan’s hair completely white from the excruciating shock and sadness she had endured that day. She said she kept it that way as a morose reminder of how frail and precious life always was. I was lucky to be left to the mercy of my beautiful Nan and her free spirit kid brother, Uncle Moe. If it truly wasn’t for these two, I surely would have had a cursed life. Uncle Moe was near my father’s age when he was forced to taking on the role of “Dad” to me, and was around for most of the important life stages - like teaching me to ride a bike (much to my Nan’s chagrin) and how to climb the old oak tree like a chimp in order to reach our ponds swing rope where I ultimately learned to master the biggest splash that could be heard from miles away. That's where my bravery ended, and stagnated once I set foot off our property line. As I got older, he started taking off on occasion to travel and dirt dig, not surprising...as it was always in our blood line. My family’s ancestry was filled with all sorts of professions involving numerous great adventures... archaeologists(like Uncle Moe), engineers, and many high-ranking brave military career members. Nonetheless, I was destined and most reluctant to follow in their foot steps.
By Jennifer Bowers5 years ago in Humans
His Father's Book
A final chord rang out into the atmosphere signaling the end of the hymn, but long before, the pews of the small chapel had begun to empty. Henry Wilkes was dead, and the world was all the better for it, though no one would have dared to admit it aloud.
By Galilee Buerger5 years ago in Humans
Sky Inside
An older sister is a strange thing - always a few steps ahead, just around the corner no matter how fast you run. Alma has always been like that, just out of my reach. For a while, I’d look at her and think I caught a glimpse of who I’d eventually be, but it doesn’t work like that.
By Elizabeth Kirkpatrick5 years ago in Humans
