family

Over the Rainbow
When she was a little girl, Annie's grandpa would tell her a story every night before she went to bed. Then they would discuss it. Over the years, she heard many, some happy, some sad. With each story, she would be taken to a magical far away world, where anything could be possible if you just believed hard enough. And she did. With each story, Annie, being a wide-eyed child standing at a door that opens to endless possibilities, stood excitedly, just waiting to open it.
By Judith Jaschaabout 2 hours ago in Fiction
City of plague:A new Yorker’s pandemic chronicle Pt 8.
In early March, New York City confirmed its first case of COVID-19: a middle-aged partner at a Midtown Manhattan law firm. Within days, family members, friends, and colleagues who had been in close contact with him also tested positive. Some had mild symptoms. Others became critically ill. The attorney himself deteriorated so quickly that he was placed on a ventilator and admitted to intensive care.
By Peterabout 6 hours ago in Fiction
City of plague:A new Yorker’s pandemic chronicle Pt 7.
During the stay-at-home order, the subway never stopped running. It roared through tunnels with tireless persistence, as if driven by a quiet sense of duty—to keep the city alive while an invisible enemy stalked its people. In its motion, there was something almost sacrificial. The trains carried not only passengers, but also the fragile belief that New York would endure.
By Peterabout 6 hours ago in Fiction
City of plague:A new Yorker’s pandemic chronicle
When Governor Andrew Cuomo ordered all non-essential businesses in New York State to shut down, Chinatown changed almost overnight.
By Petera day ago in Fiction
City of plague:A new Yorker’s pandemic chronicle
By late March of the Year of the Rat, time itself seemed to slow under the weight of the virus. Days stretched endlessly, as if the calendar had lost its urgency. Each morning looked almost identical to the one before it. The same gray sky over Manhattan. The same cautious silence on the streets below our apartment window.
By Petera day ago in Fiction
My Dad
I got my story in a magazine; it was about my dad, George Hurst. He was the best dad in the world. He loved his family and raised his children while my mum was always ill with her nerves. He cooked, cleaned, and worked down the coal mine. My dad was like me: always happy and helping others, but usually taken for granted, too.
By George’s Girl 2026 a day ago in Fiction
City of plague:A new Yorker’s pandemic chronicle
In late March, after New York Governor Andrew Cuomo issued the stay-at-home order, all workers in non-essential industries were required to remain at home. The goal was clear: protect lives, slow the rising curve of infections, and relieve the growing panic that had gripped New Yorkers.
By Peter2 days ago in Fiction
City of plague:A new Yorker’s pandemic chronicl
On March 1, the first confirmed case of COVID-19 in New York City was announced. The patient was a middle-aged lawyer working in a Midtown Manhattan law firm. His condition was already severe when he was diagnosed, and he was immediately hospitalized and placed in isolation.
By Peter2 days ago in Fiction
Berganashio - Chapter 34
Kunya's muscles were starting to ache from flying, "Don't you find it odd that we're heading back to the caverns of Mem where the battle occurred just days ago?"
By Rowan Finley 3 days ago in Fiction
An In-Depth Story Inspired by Gone Girl
An In-Depth Story Inspired by Gone Girl On the morning of their fifth wedding anniversary, Nick Dunne woke to the uneasy stillness of a house that felt like it was holding its breath.
By Ibrahim Shah 3 days ago in Fiction
A Fucked-Up Wedding Toast - 2
Hi, sorry to come in on the tail of such a moving bridesmaid's speech, especially because none of you know me. I'm basically crashing your wedding as a "plus one," but I really need to say this.
By Lana V Lynx3 days ago in Fiction
The Leaving Door
Mara noticed it before she noticed the quiet. The driver set her suitcase beside the gate, nodded once toward the house, and returned to the road without looking back. Not at the porch. Not at the windows. Not at Mara standing there with one hand on the latch and the other wrapped around the strap of her bag.
By Flower InBloom3 days ago in Fiction