Stories tagged child

He is Seventeen

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What we all know and do not say is that it is not about the physical pain she endured so much as it is the fear she must have felt for the child she was leaving behind.

Letter to my son

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"Such is our life.” "The life you put me in!" "At least you've got one!"

My Lady's Child

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Her swell of child fits like a socket into the bowl of my hip-bones.

Spill

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He built her as a playwright crafts a scene. For a lifetime he balanced the trickle of his love, his thoughts, his hope... his self... into her ears, until she became his story. [419 words] (Explicit language).

DEAR MOTHERFUCKER

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I'm standing outside your window with our son's fingers in my fist.

Fourteen Days In November

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The fantasies expand. With a small fatherless daughter I might finally become the rebel and the outcast I was always meant to be.

The Child Who Loved Emily Dickinson

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Until it happens to you, and I hope, and you should pray, that it never does, you cannot appreciate the consolation of believing that your are merely losing your mind.

A Hall of Mirrors

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My face in your face The light in your eyes Dancing and twirling Growing, alive A hall of mirrors reflecting me Shards of glass Silver and black Injure and cut Years of bad luck A hall of mirrors protecting me Wrinkles and bags Time's been unkind Disease and…

Bibliophagy

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he knows that his wife knows. she can smell the adverbs on his tongue in the mornings. but he cannot get through another evening in that house without consonants.

Museum Guard

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"Well if we break for lunch at the same time wanna sit with me? I got fruit roll-ups I'll share." Cory looked up at the boy, removing her hand from the water only to brush a lock of dark hair from her eyes. He was still smirking, jaw crunching, saliva

to reggie, antarctic baby daddy

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What I want to know is where you proposed to that woman who will be your wife. Was it Shackleton’s hut? Was it where we heard the Weddell seals? Was it the McMurdo greenhouse where you keep the tomatoes and flowers?

a mother speaks to a stone

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Who made your wings? Who draped your dress? Did you hold the granite heart when they engraved it, when they set my child’s picture there?

His Laugh is My Yellow (or explaining skin color to a six-year-old boy)

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Max is the color of burnt caramelized sugar the sweet crust that decorates our bright enameled pots.

His Laugh is My Yellow (or explaining skin color to a six-year-old)

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Max is the color of burnt caramelized sugar the sweet crust on our bright enameled pots.

The Juniper Days – Part III

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I flew to Madrid. Though, at the time, it felt like standing still. Nothing happened quickly enough the second after I had read that journal entry.