mother

35

Haunting Past

Intisar shut down her laptop, picked up her jacket and tucked a stray wisp of curly brown hair into her scarf. Picking up her bag, she walked to the door of her office and shut the light as she left. “Leaving for the day, boss?” said a young writer Intisar recognized as Julia. “Yes, Julia. When are you heading home?” “Oh, not for a while. You assigned me that that story about the Richardson house, remember? Deadline’s next week.” “Oh, yes! How is that coming?” “Pretty good, actually. I...

24

A Mother’s Gift: Part II

Continued From “A Mother’s Gift: Part I.”  Three days went by. I went to school after the morning at Daniel’s house, trying to forget everything and catch up on my work.  I wanted to graduate; I wanted to get out of the life I had thrown myself into after my father’s death. I spent more time with my brother at night. He, at almost nine years old, was slowly starting to read, and that was something I couldn’t miss in his  life. My little brother was born early, and...

14

A Mother’s Gift: Part I

I looked at my watch, holding it under a streetlight. 12:00 – midnight. I ran down the street, heart racing, shoes pounding against the wet concrete. Bleak, dull houses passed in a blur under the blotchy night sky as I gasped for air, checking the road behind me to see if anyone had followed. I reached the porch of our house, dim light visible through the cracked window in the door. I opened the door slowly to keep the creaks to a minimum. I took slow, careful steps over...

8

Silent Mourning

A True Story | Anonymous Staff Writer “We’re leaving”, they said. The door snapped shut. Our home plunged into silent mourning. My mind sealed itself into a labyrinth of words spilt in the heat of anger and the coldness of heart. Earlier that morning, I had told my mother to let me be. I had told her that my disheveled closet was my own, and thus, I could do with it what I pleased. My voice had risen. My shame had dropped. Now, they were gone. My mother had...

37

A Mother’s Jar

A coin upon a coin Sweat upon a face Time upon time Time is running out Dollars upon dollars A story like no other Forever to be told, passed down from mother to mother Points of value taken, in the true making of a scholar Mommy, mommy My friends think you are lame You embarrass me at school Unlike the other parents, you aren’t the same All you do is bring me shame, like a cloud above me, filled with rain I don’t want to see you at my school...