A Father's Day

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…acrid scent of medications, loose bowels, and disinfectant engulfed us as Jeanne, my mother-in-law, opened the front door of the stately grey colonial in Connecticut where she and Bob, her husband had lived for twenty-five years. Deep lines framed her violet eyes. Beneath them lay circles dark from lack of sleep. Although it was a sunny June day, the air in the house was stifling and…

By Christine Corrigan

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That's not how the story should have ended.

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My father killed my mother in 1993. I was 10. Most of my work is inspired by my past. Enjoy.

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…not how the story should have ended. 

Stabbed to death, all cold and scary.

No more fairytales, lego jails or home made clothes on bloody mary. (Our Barbie doll. Her wounds we tended)

 

We couldn't pretend it didn't matter,

Misplaced trust all crimson faces in afterworld misleading places.

Grief does many things to too many people. Mine gave me mistrust the only thing that was ever equal.

 

They shared the same lack of my faith as that in I, I could not face.

I was the killer and he was me. My rightful father so it seems. We shared the blood we shared the veins I wore the bit he held the…

By Tracie Daily

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Still I Rise

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My story in a nutshell

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…name is Jim Moon. I live in Cartersville Ga. I simply ask if you are interested in sharing a “feel good” story. The story is mine and the title is STILL I RISE.

 

I want to share a bit of my past. It will explain why my story can be a positive influence to so many who are hurting. I was adopted by relatives when I was 17 months old. My aunt and uncle became my parents and my parents became my aunt and uncle. A typical Jerry Springer episode. Prior to my adoption, I…


By Jim Moon

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