She went over the checklist again: clothes packed, beach toys stowed in the trunk, a week’s worth of precooked meals in coolers.
Wendy was as excited as a four-year-old on a merry-go-round.
Waving madly, she watched as the car pulled away, giggling as the faces of her family slowly disappeared.
Candace Kubinec wrote this story.
My daughter lives thirty minutes away. She’s got two children now. We haven’t spoken in twenty years. The last time we were together we hunted Monkey Bees in the backyard, turning things over, looking for a Monkey Bees’ nest. It was a made-up game. There was no way to win.
Over the years Bob Thurber’s work has received a long list of awards and prizes. His most recent book is a collection of brief stories titled “Nothing But Trouble.” His first novel, “Paperboy: A Dysfunctional Novel,” was recently rereleased. Visit BobThurber.net.
Mother died ages ago. Her heart killed her.
She’d always say to me, “Better you cry now than I cry later.” Sometimes she’d hit with her hand, other times with a hairbrush.
I remember her saying, “Life is what you make it.” Now it’s a boat! Or a flower pot.
Howie Good is the recipient of the 2015 Press Americana Prize for Poetry for his latest collection, Dangerous Acts Starring Unstable Elements.
The unveiling mysteries of motherhood: stages of intense transformation, from daughter to wife to mother. Entrances, exhilarations, exits; lively childhood memories, intoxicating teenage adventures, disoriented adulthood choices. Happiness, madness, sadness. Empty nested. A rejoicing feeling of accomplishment. Gratified facial expressions as they leave. Adjustments, introspective silence, fulfillment.
Another cycle begins.
Louise Emma Potter was born in the United Kingdom and brought up in Brazil. She has been in the education field for more than 20 years and is a material writer and teacher trainer. Her website is teach-in.com.br
Alone. Silence imprisoning her.
The button beckons.
Suffocating silence. No chatter or cheerful commotion.
Eyes fixed on the button. Abruptly, she crosses the room.
Presses the button. Waits.
Stampeding feet. Sudden clamorous noise. Wonderful chaos!
Three voices yell in unison:
“Mum! The Internet’s gone off!”
Verity Park has been persuaded by her boss to take up the 50-word challenge. It’s not as easy as it looks! Verity is writing under a pseudonym but her boss will guess who she is.
It was a nightly ritual. “Daddy, there’s a monster in my room.”
All the parenting journals promised: “Let her cry; two nights, and the crying will stop.”
Proud Daddy noted that after only fifteen minutes the crying had indeed stopped, as the monster dragged little Dana into the closet’s depths.
Alison spent many a night tucked under the supposed safety of her sheets, crying for Mommy and Daddy to rescue her from night terrors and other perceived threats. She is still wary of the closet and what lies under the bed once the darkness comes.
I once watched a momma bird feed her babies. She returned again and again with a worm for their waiting beaks.
As the babies got bigger, their number decreased: four, three, two, one.
And when the nest was empty, the robin sat holding the worm, no longer valuable or necessary.
Sue Silva is a freelance writer who lives in Ontario, Canada.
The young girl looked broken beyond her cracked cheekbone and bloodied, blackened eye. She’d been so pretty, so innocent, Marianne remembered, when her boy, Jake, had brought the girl to Sunday dinner last week.
As she dabbed a washcloth against the clotting blood, she knew she’d failed as a mother.
Melissa is a writer, teacher, and dog-lover living in the Middle of Nowhere, Michigan.
“Thumb sucking can cause dry, irritable skin. Using a pacifier is a much healthier choice.”
“No. Pacifiers can cause speech impediments in children. Sucking thumbs is better.”
“Pacifiers can eventually be taken from the child. Thumbs cannot.”
“If a child uses a pacifier, its head may fall off.”
O.L.Humphreys is an aspiring author of humorous short fiction and a confused new father. He lives in Ealing, England. To date his only published short story can be found in Dark Lane Anthology Volume One. Keep up to date with his future publications on Facebook.
“Mum, mum, may I have alphabet soup?”
“And nuggets?” asked the boy as he plonked himself onto the sofa and grabbed the remote.
Minutes later, she served the bowl of steaming soup.
Her boy frowned at the floating letters. “Sss… peh…”
She smirked. “It says ‘spoiled’, dear.”
Joey tries to write a little and is capable of making his own soup. You can find him and abuse him at joeytoey.com