immediate family
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The Cottage
The Cottage By: Rebecca Redd The old grandfather clock ticked away in the corner of the parlor. Through the glass window pane, she saw large, soft snowflakes whirl around frantically giving the early signs of a snow storm. A fire was lit in the weathered-brick fireplace; it crackled softly, the occasional ember leaping from the fire becoming white ash. She sat there, in the antique, over- stuffed, arm chair sipping her tea. This was her first night in the cottage alone. The cottage was her inheritance from her favorite Uncle Thomas. After 12 years of seeing his face on the missing persons posters and plastered on every police website, Uncle Thomas was declared dead. The little cottage was half a mile outside of a small town, down a bumpy, dirt road, and set deep in the forest. Upon her arrival, she met the groundskeeper, Mr. Jones, who gave her the house keys. He maintained the grounds for years and gave her a quick tour before driving off into the snowy evening. The cottage had two moderate sized bedrooms, a large kitchen, a parlor room, and two bathrooms. It was perfect. The walls of the parlor were covered by large, oak book cases and each case was meticulously lined with old novels and works of great poets. As she gazed around the room, something caught her eye on fireplace mantel. A small, glass globe sat alone, slightly shadowed by a large oil painting. She set her cup of tea on the end table, slipped her feet into her slippers and tightened her sweater around her body. She stood up and walked toward the oil painting to get a better look. The painting was masterfully crafted; the strokes of paint were raised, creating a unique texture with beautiful autumn colours. As she admired the work of art, she wondered why she inherited this coveted cottage. Just before she headed out for the cottage, her family begrudgingly wished her a good trip, the image of their sour, jealous expressions lingered in her mind. She had recently chosen to go back to school to further her education. The University was located 20 minutes outside the little town near the cottage. For her, the timing of the inheritance and her first semester worked out wonderfully.
By Rebecca Redd5 years ago in Families
Just The Six of Us
Jewel walked up the short path to the old family home in Durham, NC she had recently bought. Her parents owned the home in the early ‘60s and she, just like the rest of her brothers and sisters, had been born there. Two stories and four bedrooms, dad had sold the home for a fraction of what it was worth because he thought the house and store combo a few blocks away would lead to easy money. But he and mom weren’t that business savvy and even those were sold.
By Andrew Rhodes5 years ago in Families
I'm an Old Goat
Ever since I was a child, I have been old. I remember always helping with my younger siblings and helping my mom clean up and wanting to learn more such as how to wash clothes with the old wringer washer (I don't think that is your average child's interests, but it was one of mine). The skills I learned served me well when my dad died at my young age of fourteen years old. The old Capricorn was built for this type of a tragic turn of events.
By Yvette McDermott5 years ago in Families
Passion for the sport
As she approached her apartment a man, tall and slender, was knocking on her door. The man cleared his throat, “I have a package…. that needs your signature.” Madie was caught off guard. She just stares for a moment. Slowly, she shifted her bookbag to the other shoulder and signed on the line. The Delivery driver said,” Thank you” and turned to his truck.
By Celena Sims5 years ago in Families
Wishful Thinking
Stevie sighed, breath steaming in the cold, like escaping frustration from his boiling thoughts. He was starting to detest thrift stores. Ever since his dad had gotten sick, his mom had dragged him from one junkpile to the next. Brooke, his annoying little sister, was in quite the opposite mood. Her two braids with sparkly beads, bounced with excitement as they crunched through the snow, to the entrance of the store with BRAD’S BARGAIN BIN written on over it. Stevie wished Brad, whoever he was, had decided to open something more exciting with his money. Like a laundromat. Or a tire shop. It could be worse, he thought grumpily, like Linda’s Lost & Found. That lady couldn’t decide if her shop was a store, or just a place to let her six cats run wild, stinking up the place.
By Reed Moore 5 years ago in Families
Not This
I didn’t want it. The envelope sat fat and heavy on the corner of my desk. I no longer had to open it to see the contents. I lost track of how many times I had picked it up and looked inside, hoping somehow this time would be different. It wasn’t. The contents remained, stolid and unchanging.
By Sarah Roberts5 years ago in Families
The Little Black Book
Erick Ruden was in the prime of his life. Graduated top of his class at the University of Iowa school of Medicine and is in his first year of residency at the University’s hospital. He enjoyed working in the pediatric unit, where from the windows you got a view of the Kinnick football stadium and all of the college games that were played throughout the season. The kids were brimming with excitement every time they got the opportunity to watch, which brought serene joy to Erick’s heart in his choice to dedicate his career to these children.
By Tyler Fletcher5 years ago in Families
Chai or Coffee?
For as long as I can remember, my father woke up every morning and made a large pot of chai. He was a poet, an artist - I knew because I’d seen his old souvenir notebooks filled with rhyming verse, frayed sticky notes and hotel napkins decorated with elaborate sketches of cars.
By Anaakhya Kavi5 years ago in Families
