literature

Families and literature go hand in hand; fictional families to entertain, reflect and inspire.

The Day My Mother Didn’t Yell And Why I’ll Never Forget It
My mother was known for her voice long before she was known for her hugs. It filled rooms before she did. It cut through walls, through doors, through whatever distance we tried to put between ourselves and her anger. Growing up, yelling was not an event in our house—it was an atmosphere. It meant something was wrong. It meant someone had disappointed her. It meant I should shrink, move faster, speak less.
By sasanka perera3 days ago in Families
My Mother in law's last words unlocked a secret that changed my marriage forever!
The night my mother-in-law died, she whispered something that cracked my marriage wide open. Not in a dramatic, movie-scene way.
By John Smith9 days ago in Families
Bettijo Hirschi
Introduction Bettijo Hirschi is a multi‑talented creative professional from the United States. She works as a designer, art director, photographer, writer, and event planner. Bettijo has built a long career in creative work and media. People know her for her artistic skills, her work in magazines and television, and her lifestyle blog. She is also known in recent news because of changes in her personal life.
By Farhan Sayed18 days ago in Families
The Love That Stays Off-Camera
I didn’t notice the fire until it was almost too late. It was a Tuesday in late October. Dry wind, brittle leaves, the kind of air that crackles with danger. I was inside, scrolling through bad news on my phone, when the smell hit—acrid, sharp, wrong. I ran outside just as smoke curled over the ridge behind our street.
By KAMRAN AHMAD26 days ago in Families
The Last Gallop
In a small village nestled between golden wheat fields and sun-cracked hills, there lived a horse named Bahar. He wasn’t sleek or swift, nor did he have a pedigree worth boasting about. His coat was dull in places, his legs bore old scars, and one ear was half-torn from a long-forgotten storm. But to twelve-year-old Rehan, Bahar was more than a horse—he was memory, comfort, and home.
By meerjanan27 days ago in Families
Mutants for Dividends: How Bioengineered Animals Feed Profits, Not Life
That little “bioengineered” sticker on your groceries? It’s not a warning—it’s a confession. America didn’t just change food; it rewrote nature’s code to keep profits flowing. Too bad your body—and the animals—are the crash test dummies.
By Living the Greatest CONSPIRACY Theory. By RG.28 days ago in Families
Your Plate Is a Stock Ticker: How Wall Street Profits Off Fake Food
Walk into any supermarket and you’re not walking into a place designed to feed you. You’re walking into a showroom for financial assets disguised as food. The bright boxes screaming “healthy,” “whole grain,” “low fat” are line items on earnings calls, tuned to one purpose: turn your need to survive into shareholder profit.
By Living the Greatest CONSPIRACY Theory. By RG.28 days ago in Families
The Space Between Noticing
The city woke up loudly, but Jonah always noticed the silence first. It lived in the early hours, tucked between the hum of traffic and the clatter of metal gates opening for business. It lingered in the spaces most people rushed through without a second thought. Jonah didn’t rush. He never had.
By Yasir khanabout a month ago in Families
The Devil, the Mascot:
The devil, as most people imagine him, relies on spectacle. Fire. Brimstone. A red suit stitched together with fear and superstition. He frightens, he threatens, he tempts. He is loud. But in Gnostic thought, the devil is almost quaint—more mascot than mastermind. The real terror lies elsewhere, hidden behind systems, routines, and invisible rulers who do not need pitchforks because they already own the farm.
By Living the Greatest CONSPIRACY Theory. By RG.about a month ago in Families
The First Leap
The First Leap The young seabird stood alone at the edge of the cliff, the vast ocean stretching endlessly beneath him. The wind brushed against his feathers, teasing him, inviting him, daring him to move. Below, the sea shimmered in shades of green and blue, alive with motion and sound. To his family, flying was as natural as breathing. To him, it was a terrifying mystery.
By writermehranabout a month ago in Families
The Eye in the Fold:
Once you notice the hidden center of the cube, it’s hard to unsee it. The drawing no longer feels like a static object with six faces; it becomes a system. Lines converge. Directions collapse inward. A square appears where nothing was explicitly drawn. That emergent center isn’t decoration—it’s functional. It exists because perspective demands it.
By Living the Greatest CONSPIRACY Theory. By RG.about a month ago in Families
The Day Begins Here
The Day Begins Here The quiet never lasts long here. It never does. I hear it before I see him — the soft scuff of small feet on the passage floor, the pause outside the kitchen like someone deciding whether the day is allowed to begin yet. Leo appears in the doorway, hair flattened on one side, eyes only half open. He doesn’t say anything at first. He just looks at me, as if confirming I’m still here.
By L C Salterabout a month ago in Families