Peter Pan is not what most people think he is… or I guess I should say, would be, but honestly, he’s real. I have not only seen him, but have also… felt him. I met Peter Pan when I was about 11 years old. It had been a hard day …
Our twelve-year-old daughter loved the new vintage-styled TV that my husband and I bought the other day at the local pawn shop in town. She would sit there and stare at the round, blank dusty screen with her hazel eyes fixated on the glass as if there was something playing …
The soggy heathland hugged itself underneath a dome sky. Tracts of mire lay sunken in some places, valleys of soft earth unable to withstand the oppressive atmosphere above it, while other acres were crumpled against the high rock beneath them. Dry and tender grass creased by an icy warm wind, …
I don’t think I can put into words, how good it feels being a Father. I love Daniel more than I could possibly say. His bright, shining smile, his endless curiosity about the world around him, and his gentle, loving nature. I didn’t think I was capable of loving someone …
As Julie began to regain consciousness, she knew something wasn’t right. She started to panic as she realized she was strapped to a table. A big bright light beamed down onto her face, blinding her, as silhouettes moved silently around her. The silhouettes began to whisper. “She’s perfect, daddy, thank …
We got to the hotel late. The kiddo was a mess, and so was I. I’d let Sally sleep through the flight while I tried to keep our two-year-old girl from having a total meltdown. As the plane started its final descent, my relief was punctured by an absolute nightmare …
“Speak louder, please.” I put my hand up next to my ear from the back of the room, signaling that she would need to raise her voice. She took a deep breath. I could see anxiety turning her cheeks beet red, as strands of blonde hair began to fall out …
When I became a father, my whole world started revolving around Marie. She was the most perfect, most treasured little thing in my world. We are kind of an unconventional family; my wife Taylor is a CEO, while I’m an artist and stay-at-home dad. Taylor and my parents are people …
I’m a grown woman, so it’s been years since I don’t live by my mother’s rules. But there’s one thing I will always respect: never go to bed with a wet hair. For my mother, it meant catching a cold, but for me, it was something else entirely. Last night, …
I moved into my apartment complex two months ago. I started hearing things a week later. It was subtle at first. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, I would wake up to a faint scratching sound from somewhere behind the walls. I thought it could be mice. Or rats. …
I remember when I first moved into this accursed house, I was 10 years old and loved all the things a ten-year-old boy loves, you know; climbing trees, catching bugs, playing cowboys and Indians, those sorts of things. We had moved from the hussle and bussle of “The Big Smoke” …
The scratching of graphite on paper. The short, whispered phrases. The gentle, distant ticking of a muffled old grand-father clock. These are my recollections of my time talking to Thomas Berkley in January, 1980. I was called in to see Mr Berkley at short notice. My time in Boston was …
I still can’t get what happened last week out of my head. I mean, it doesn’t fit together at all. I haven’t been able to get any rest for the past few days just thinking about it, so I figured I’d just write it down here and see if you …
The year is nineteen-ninety-nine. That sentence brings me back to my senior kindergarten class when I was five years old, where we used to read out the date on the blackboard every single day. The year 1999 exists as a stain in my mind, however, as a memory that will not go away no matter how I try to forget it. 1999 marked the year I lost my first tooth, my first time on a plane, and unfortunately the early loss of my childhood innocence.
