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Write a story inspired by a memory of yours.

Posted in Nonfiction on Oct 26, 2022

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✍️ 89 stories

The Hijacking of Instagram KBJR0719

Submitted to Contest #140

When the Bitcoin pirates abducted my Instagram, I was watching a movie on whales. Something about how whales are worse than sharks. A documentary. I found it to be unreliable. A shark is a shark. This must be the work of the shark lobbyists, I thought. As I was creating oceanic conspiracies in my mind, I received a text message from a friend-- “Hey, I think your Instagram got hacked. Also, you still need to Venmo me for that thing with the hot air balloon.” I’ll tell you about the hot air balloon some other time. When I went to che...

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For Pete's Sake

Submitted to Contest #140

I’ll never forget the day I realized my dad was going to die.Young boys know nothing of mortality, certainly not when it comes to their fathers. To most sons, dads are giants among men, strong and fearless. It’s why we rely on them to fight our playground proxy wars. “My dad can beat up your dad!” is often the last salvo of scared boys who don't want to fight—but act as if they do. I had often made the proclamation because if my dad were indestructible then maybe I was too.Most of the life lessons my dad taught were obvious only in hindsight...

39 likes 15 comments 15
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What He Would Have Wanted

Submitted to Contest #140

*Trigger warning: This story discusses death and dying. You knew his picture was going to be in the church, but right in front of you, you didn’t expect. In a frame by the altar, his smile said it all; a proud father, grandfather, and future great-grandfather clad in his beloved plaid, flannel shirt and posing in front of the corn stalks that he planted for his family to enjoy. Pumpkins from his garden rested at his feet, and you remember family picture day as if it were yesterday. You remember the laughter, the silliness, ...

26 likes 28 comments 28
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Addiction

Submitted to Contest #140

“May I use the bathroom?” I waited with my raised hand for Mr. Westeadt to excuse me at the same time during his history class for the nth time. I never took more than a few minutes, so he was never suspicious of me doing anything bad like doing drugs or skipping class. He sighed and gestured to the door. I hurried out without my backpack or any of my belongings that weren’t already in my jeans’ pockets. I never took them; I already had everything I needed. I made sure nobody was in the hall as I stepped into the solitary unisex bathroom....

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13 Years Ago

Submitted to Contest #140

I had almost forgotten about it, until one day I see a golden envelope sliding under my door. I get it in my hand and turn it around. ‘Class of 2009’ is written neatly on the front. I sigh of boredom as I open it and take out the invitation. Reunion. How nice. “That is an event I’ll be avoiding at all costs.” At least that’s what I’ve said to Maggie when we were on the final year of high school, one day talking throughout a break. And I believe I’ll keep my word. We haven’t even finished the year, and most were already making plans how...

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I Will Lay Me Down

Submitted to Contest #140

TW: Suicidal thoughtsWe were coming back from a day trip to Fallingwater and stopped to swim in a river that cut through the low-slung hills. After an hour of driving, our stepdad, Mark, a native to the general area, pointed out the windscreen. “Here! We can picnic just on the side.”Mom dropped her feet, from where they'd been sunning on the dashboard. She offered one of her signature, premeditated smiles. “How nice.”Beth, my sister, drab and dreary, huffed. Lately, she spent her mornings expertly patting her face ghostly with pale creams an...

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Crystal City Polar Bear

Submitted to Contest #140

Crystal City Polar Bear Christmas 1955. The brand new Philco 45 RPM all-transistor record player was encased in a puke-green plastic box with a lid of the same putrid color. Despite the extremely heavy use over the next three years, in 1958, the Made in America turntable, still rotated without a glitch. A white plastic mesh cover on the front of the box hid the speaker. With the precision of a skilled surgeon, I lifted the lid. Inside on the left, I rotated the round white plastic knob to ‘On’ and waited for the virgin transistors to warm-...

17 likes 2 comments 2
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The Catfish

Submitted to Contest #140

There used to be a pond just behind my house on Terry Street. It’s still there, actually, I’ve just moved on. It was surrounded on all sides by reeds taller than me or Max or even Carson who was the tallest. We went there after school, left our backpacks at home and picked up our fishing poles then walked just past the Barbers’ house down the hill to the pond. Oh no, it was the Palermo’s house with the wind chimes that sounded like thunder, not the Barbers.  There were benches all around the pond to sit on and look out, little oak logs...

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Common Troubles

Submitted to Contest #140

My Dad was sitting on the swinging bench with a pile of my books again. This time he didn't take anything from my nightstand, the stuff I was currently picking away at. So while I was weary about why exactly he was interested in my reading selection- at least I wouldn't be missing anything that I wanted to pick up. My parents had deposited us at the lake house cabin in upstate New York with our aunts and cousins, as they did every summer. The cabin had ten beds on the highest floor and three private bedrooms for the adults, more than en...

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The White Picket Fence

Submitted to Contest #140

It reached around our house like a protective parent. Our white picket fence. Our white house, our sanctuary within it. It gleamed and shone with the confidence of belonging. It existed because everyone had a white picket fence outside their white wooden houses, and when I was born, we were everyone.I sometimes imagine that we stayed in that house with that white picket fence until I was old enough to move out on my own. Like everyone else.Me as everyone, riding the yellow bus on my first day of kindergarten with the other little white kids ...

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The road to death

Submitted to Contest #140

I remember that night like a dream that keeps coming back every night, from which you wake up out of a sudden in the middle of the night, breathing hard and fast then feeling cold sweat on your back.  The night where our life's length could have been shortened within seconds  My friends and I were getting ready for our countryside trip. Josh's grandparents had a small, traditional house somewhere up in the mountains. We thought that we were going to have the time of our life, but it could have been the last time of our lives. Josh ...

13 likes 3 comments 3
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In the Box

Submitted to Contest #140

Content Warning: Physical and Sexual Violence, Language “Fine,” he says at last, circling the lowest number and signing his name. I hold out my hand. “Congratulations. You just bought yourself a car.” His hand is a little clammy, but he shakes on it and leans back in the chair. “You didn’t even buy me dinner first!” he jokes. I hate those jokes.  But I am a professional, so I plaster on a smile. “I’m going to step out for a minute and get everything moving for you, and I’ll come back with some paperwork. Sound good?” H...

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3 Little Birds

Submitted to Contest #140

When I was a boy I shot three birds on a fence. The karma haunts me. It was a cold fall day, no snow on the plains, but the thought of snow in the air. My breath was crisp and chilled. There was no way to know what I was about to do. A good day for birding. I sat shooting my paper target that morning for two hours. I was a dead eye, as they say. Even with corrective lenses, I could hit anything I shot at. The weapon at hand was a Red Ryder BB gun. This device could be loaded with dozens of lead pellets about one-quarter the size of a pea, ...

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Bridge

Submitted to Contest #140

Now my friends, as an Asian-American, you would think that I would have often faced racism and that I would have nursed each of my broken pieces into somewhat of a nice-looking sculpture with cracked lines running all over. But in fact, it was quite the opposite. As I was growing up, I luckily did not face as much racism as I do now. But now, I hurt for the brothers, sisters, and the elderly that could've been my grandparents. Every time I scroll through another article, I know that we have lost so much, yet we continue to climb the hard roc...

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Everyone Just Called Her "Viv"

Submitted to Contest #140

September 1971—The morning started in a rush. I was in kindergarten and my brother in second grade. Mom was in more of a hurry than usual and was not her smiling, upbeat, positive self. It did not take me long to realize that my brother and I had missed the bus. Mom rushed us all into the car, all of us into the back seat, my brother, me, and our good friend Jimmy from across the street, who had missed the bus as well. There were no seatbelts back then, so the back seat was the safest place for kids our age to be. The next thing I remember i...

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