Autobiography
Chapter 32
I've got to get out of here. I felt the tears stinging the back of my eyes or maybe that was the smell of garbage. A house that looked like it hadn't been cleaned since he had moved in. That was three years ago, right? I did a quick calculation in my head, primarily as a distraction from the emotions coursing through my body.
By Amy J Garner2 years ago in Chapters
Chapter 13 of “The Moth & the Lighthouse: a Memoir”
I know this memoir has been a sad story so far, and you probably don’t like the protagonist very much, but I beg you to press on, Dear Reader. The monstrous cretin inhabiting these pages is about to undergo a transformation. Based on what you know so far, it’s hard to believe that anything could penetrate the shell of miserable, desperate, entitled arrogance he is encased in, I know. However, he is about to have some experiences that evidence if not a higher power, at least a sense of greater purpose, and emerge from the chrysalis a butterf…well, at least a moth, but you may find the changes as astounding as he did.
By J. Otis Haas2 years ago in Chapters
An American Girl Summer
8/11/2023 Dear Diary, I finally saw the Barbie movie this week! Mom giggled so much throughout the whole thing. She kept pointing out all the old dolls she had as a kid—she even had Allan! It was so cute to watch her enjoying herself. She really related to the mother being pushed away by the teenage daughter, which made me feel bad. She told me she always wanted a Troll doll growing up, but her mother wouldn’t get her one. I’m going to buy her a vintage one for Christmas.
By Anonymous Barbie2 years ago in Chapters
The Week That Broke Me
If anyone uses the word “natural” to describe breastfeeding to me ever again, I cannot be held liable for my reaction. There was nothing that was natural about breastfeeding as far as I was concerned. Sure, when I was pregnant, I had every intention to breastfeed. I bought a pump. I bought a ton of storage bags for the copious amounts of breastmilk that I was going to store away in my freezer like a good little mother. I bought nipple cream and breast pads, because of the warnings that women had given me about just how miserable my breasts were going to be. Yes, I had read the books telling me that breastfeeding was going to be “hard” and “frustrating,” but I just needed to stick with it because if you give your baby formula, you are the devil (obviously, they didn’t use that word, but it was generally implied with all of the literature). Whenever I would read pros and cons, the breastfeeding section had a long list of pros for the child and one to two cons for the mother, but the formula section was pretty much all pros just for the mother. You’re selfish, remember?
By Nicole Correia2 years ago in Chapters
Life On The Spectrum: Chapter 1
Sean Michael Callaghan was born on March 22, 1990, to Lorry and Michael Callaghan. Lorry and Michael had known each other for only about a year before they were married. Michael had grown up in a family of 6 kids in Northeast Philadelphia. Lorry grew up in West Caldwell, New Jersey, about 15 minutes from New York City. They met through a College friend of Michael’s, who had been a childhood friend of Lorry. As they spent time together, they fell in love and were married in May 1989. I came along less than a year later. I was 8 pounds 6 ounces at birth. They brought me home to a twin house in Horsham, Pennsylvania, a Philadelphia suburb.
By Sean Callaghan2 years ago in Chapters
Life On The Spectrum: Introduction
The young boy had recently finished Kindergarten and was ready for First Grade. One day toward the end of the summer he asked his mother “Mom, what comes after First Grade?” “Second Grade” she responded. After that the young boy asked what about after that, she replied “Third Grade.” The young boy continued to ask his mother how many more school years he had and when she finished with 12th Grade, the young boy’s heart sunk as he realized that he would remain in school 10 months out of the year, every year until age 18, which to the 6-year-old kid felt was long after the happy portion of his life, which at the time he considered would be “third grade.” He wanted to continue the life he had known at the time, playing and doing whatever his heart desired. He foresaw not having back control of his life back until age 18 and adulthood, He was terrified!
By Sean Callaghan2 years ago in Chapters
Why Write?
For as long as I can remember my fingers have itched to put words on paper. I have drawers teeming with notebooks filled with half-formed stories and characters who exist only in my imagination. Ever since the third grade when I wrote my first epic story, The Toilet Zone, about aliens who invade a house through a magical conduit in the sewers, I have wanted to be an author. I have literally spent hundreds of hours twisting words into fantasy worlds over the past four decades of my life. Four decades of clinging to a dream and what do I have to show for it? A callus on my right middle finger the size of Nebraska, a mild case of carpal tunnel syndrome, and enough disappointment to fill the ocean. In an attempt to reinvigorate my passion for writing I began entering short stories to challenges on Vocal ten months ago. A dozen stories in and I've had one like, one positive comment, eleven total reads, and earned a whopping $0.08. So now, I ask myself, why haven't I had any success yet and why do I keep chasing this dream?
By A. J. Schoenfeld2 years ago in Chapters
I Was Somebody’s Dusty Son. Content Warning.
At the heart of my adolescent turmoil, during those precarious years of middle school, there exists a chapter of my life that has remained— inscribed with indelible ink. To be honest every year leading up to, and since has had its own stand out moments. This is just a chapter I’ve often hesitated to revisit— not solely because of its intrinsic pain but because of the irrevocable mark it left on my self-perception.
By Dan-O Vizzini2 years ago in Chapters
