Memoir
Beer Money. Runner-Up in Chapters Challenge. Top Story - August 2023.
Masters Degree secured, job quit, full-time writing career underway, the first part of my revenge was almost complete. Who cared if I was a fat, ambitious, opinionated motherfucker? Well, him obviously, but who else?
By S. A. Crawford2 years ago in Chapters
I Am Who I Am (Memoir)
Two of the memories I have left of my dad are of him blind with rage. I think I’ll never forget them because they told me more about life than just the goofy good times and laughing uncontrollably together. One of these memories involves two other people who it feels like devoted years of their lives to solely take care of me and my dad. My grandmother and Uncle Harvey.
By Alexis Dean Jr.2 years ago in Chapters
My Life
This is my story from my teenage years... 13-17 (the most interesting ones): My grandma got a deadly diagnosis, stage four pancreatic cancer, in 2013. I was 13 when this happened and they gave her only 6-12 months to live with chemotherapy. I started having seizures and was diagnosed with epilepsy only a few months later. Within one year, I went through so many difficult events. Her diagnosis was in November 2013. My epilepsy diagnosis was in March 2014. Shortly after I got my diagnosis, as a 13-year-old, I got a third-degree burn. This burn required going to the hospital for the blisters to pop on their own. I was there for two nights and went for a skin graft less than two weeks later. After the skin graft, I was in the hospital for another night and missed a month of eighth grade. After the surgery had healed, or so I thought, I got a sunburn where the skin graft was done. I was just a stupid kid and did not know that a person could burn through a t-shirt.
By Rene Peters2 years ago in Chapters
Me, Myself and I
This was the time to take stock. Looking back, it was like I was examining someone else's life. I’d been to the brink of Hell and felt like I was going mad. But I’d come back. And I was successful by most people’s measure. Some, knowing snippets of what I had been through, admired me for my strength of character. Even if I did not feel strong in myself. I know, it is fairly common to be self-deprecating. This goes to a whole new level in most people who have experienced abuse, however.
By Lilly Cooper2 years ago in Chapters
The Dark Before the Dawn
It was darkness. I was lost. Wandering through my life just existing, instead of living. Therapy had helped after the abuse of my ex-husband, but really it had only helped me cope with the dark thoughts that had manifested from the things he made me believe for years.
By Hope Martin2 years ago in Chapters
Gentle Stories of Discovery: Chapter 1 - The Invitation
THE INVITATION It perched on the mantelpiece, aloof, self-assured, and provocative. A seemingly harmless rectangle of card bearing its messages in sophisticated font and branding colours. Yet I felt the thud of my heart each time I glanced in its direction. Too ashamed to respond, yet too frightened not to, I allowed the entire business of the invitation to consume me.
By Teresa Renton2 years ago in Chapters
Chapter 7
Chapter 7: Embracing the Unknown The sun was setting on the horizon, casting a warm golden glow over the rolling hills of my childhood home. It was in this idyllic setting that I found myself at a crossroads, standing on the threshold of a new beginning. The decision I was about to make would shape the course of my life, and with a mix of excitement and trepidation, I took a deep breath and stepped forward.
By shallon gregerson2 years ago in Chapters
Running Up the Down Escalator
It was the spring of 1988. The First Assembly of God youth group I went to was attending a Bible Quiz in Dallas, Texas. My stepmom was one of the chaperones for the group, so she required me to participate on the Quiz team. Seeing as we traveled to other churches and saw beautiful scenery from our church van’s windows, I didn't mind.
By Mother Combs2 years ago in Chapters
The Reunion
If I could relive the past I would not have gone to my highschool reunion. I had no desire to go. The past was the past not my future. When Alison called and invited me I found myself saying yes. It was fun to see her, and find out how her life had developed. The gathering went pretty much as I had anticipated. I talked about politics and other classmates lifes. It was a polite affair. We went into the cafeteria to listen to the speaker. Then my heart stopped. There sat the boy who had broken my heart during my tenth grade year. I instantly felt the same attraction. I know it should have been one strike you're out. I should have accepted the fact that he did not feel the same way. When everyone left he stayed at his table. I got the idea that he wanted to talk with me, but disappeared for three minutes to the bathroom. When I came out he was gone. I usually would not have gone to the party,but I figured he would be there. I became a social butterfly greeting everybody who entered the house. I was hoping that he would walk in the door and I would greet him, but he did not enter. Some of my highschool friends were actually there. Alison and I went out into the backyard. I was talking about how I wanted a house with a yard like that one. I was even talking about having children playing in the backyard. I wa on cloud nine but he never showed up at the party. His friends were asking about him. Claire the girl in highschool who he had dated instead of me seemed confused that he wouldn't come. She had been one of the popular girls . She was now married with kids. Not looking for a husband. Guys in highschool always preferred the popular girls, or those who would give it up.
By Antoinette L Brey3 years ago in Chapters
What They Don't Tell You About Being The Creative One. Top Story - August 2023.
What they don’t tell you about being “The Creative One” is that everything you do is a copy of someone else. Your notebook is filled with snowflakes in bright pink, purple, and blue. Ever since you saw Frozen, it’s all you think about. Your pen draws each stroke like an ice skater glides across the rink. The geometric shapes and straight lines are soothing to draw, and it is more entertaining than listening to dry lectures. When you’re not drawing snowflakes, you’re writing Sherlock Holmes fiction. As you sit and listen to Dr. Davis drone on and on about something completely unrelated to Child Psychology, young John and Sherlock are adventuring through the streets of London with the newest addition to their team, a bloodhound pup named Toby.
By Sarah Massey3 years ago in Chapters
