As of late, I am a sixty-something grandmother who loves to write. Since I come from a long line of storytellers, I believe it's time to share those stories and preserve our family history. My hope is that my family will treasure these memories as much as I do!
Samuel stood and stretched, and the man began to formulate a plan. First, he would need to fashion a halter for the cow, and he would need to find a rope so he could bring the cow along on his journey home. Picking up the leather bridle and reins from off the peg, he decided he could alter the horse reins and use them to rig a halter for the beast. The lean-to was organized, and Samuel spied cotton ropes on a peg on the back wall. He picked one up, a piece in each hand, and simultaneously tugged on each end. The rope would hold as he led the cow down the trail.
He also knew he would have to carry the girl, but he would want to keep his hands free. He would use the softest rope to tie the girl close to his chest to keep her from falling off his horse. He would wrap the woolen blanket around her and tie it in front like a shawl.
Now he wondered about the child. Did she have a family? Would she be an orphan? Would Pru want to take in this child as her own?
For years after Samuel and Prudence married, she grieved a child’s absence. The barren woman simply could not conceive. She apologized over and over to her husband, for she knew he wanted children too. Then, one day, when he could no longer bear her sadness, the man grabbed his sobbing wife by the shoulders and shook her. “Stop!” Samuel bellowed. “That is enough!”
Surprised, Prudence looked up at her husband. He never raised his voice.
“You need to know I do not blame you for not conceiving a child. Even if we could have known before we married that you could not have a child, I would have married you still. I love you, my wife. I love you,” Samuel told his wife.
“But Samuel,” Prudence began.
“No,” he whispered, “You are more than enough for this man.” He raised an eyebrow and continued. “Maybe it’s not you. Maybe I have bad seed. Did you ever think of that?” He wickedly smiled at his wife.
Prudence shook her head and smiled. When she laughed, he wrapped his world in his arms and kissed the top of her head, wishing he could give her the desires of her heart. From that moment, the couple decided to find joy in their circumstances and rejoice in their sweet union.
Over the years, the townspeople of Salem had approached the couple, asking them to take in orphaned children. They had taken in a few, but often family members were found, and relatives claimed the children.
One year, Samuel and Prudence were asked to take in siblings Thomas and Mary from Ipswich, a neighboring village. Their parents had died from smallpox. The children grew to love their new parents, and finally, the couple felt they had a family of their own. For nearly three years, the happy family prospered until a barrister arrived at their door one day. Apparently, the children had a grandfather in Chester, and he demanded that the children should live with him. Despite the wishes of the children or the concerns of Samuel and Prudence, the children were forced to sail across the seas and live with a complete stranger.
It was too much for all involved, and Prudence swore to her husband that her heart could not take any more losses. From that moment on, Samuel intercepted any requests for homes, wishing to save Prudence any more heartache. That was over two years ago, and the man wondered how Prudence would react when she discovered his hunting trip delivered more than a winter’s bounty of wild game.
Writing Prompt:
For today’s prompt, include a flashback in your story
Jake groaned as the alarm went off on his phone. The man quickly rolled over to turn off the offending sound. Then, in the dark, he patted the nightstand beside him, looking for his glasses. Before he stood, Nancy whispered for him to stay in the warmth of his bed.
“Go back to sleep,” he told her as he kissed her cheek.
The tired man shuffled to the kitchen, knowing his morning coffee would be waiting. He grabbed his favorite mug from the cabinet, the one that said “world’s best dad.” It had been a gift from Holly when she was about eight. Or was it nine? It was hard to remember. He worked so often that the days and years blurred together like the broken glass of a kaleidoscope, only he felt as if he missed the true beauty of life’s designs. He heard about his family’s day trips as they explored museums or hiked in local forests. On homemade videos, he watched Holly’s dance recitals and volleyball games but promised not to miss graduation.
Sighing, he poured a cup of coffee and tiptoed to the living room, a habit from when Holley was little. The father didn’t want to wake her as he readied for work. He turned on the lamp next to his recliner, grabbed the remote from the table stand, and clicked on the fireplace. The cheery warmth chased away the chill in the room, but it did nothing for his somber mood. He’d had been a horrible husband and father that only shared parts of himself with his wife and daughter. Rationalizing, he told himself he only wanted to provide for them.
But all the overtime was not necessary. Did his family really need the condo in Breckinridge? Moreover, Jake worked so often that he rarely took the time for weekend ski trips, the ones his girls enjoyed.
He always thought he made up for his absences with lavish gifts. So for Holly’s eighteenth birthday, he surprised her with a brand new Wrangler with a big red bow and parked it in the driveway. She squealed when she saw it. “Thanks, Dad. Let’s go for a ride. We can take it over Tincup Pass. Let me change.”
He remembered how her voice wavered when he told her no.
“Let me guess,” she sighed, “You have to work.”
With tears in her eyes, Holly placed the keys in his hands and walked away. She never even drove it. That was over two weeks ago.
Jake needed to change and quickly. Holly would only be home until the fall before heading to Berkley. He didn’t have much time. So even though it was a Saturday, the father decided to call off sick and cancel his appointments for the day. He phoned Mia.
“Hi, Mia. I am taking the day off. No, No, I am not sick. I am taking my girls on an adventure. Yeah, we are taking a day trip over to Tincup. Cancel my appointments. Tell them something came up. You take the day off too and enjoy. I will still pay you for your hours. Thanks, Mia!”
Jake smiled. He stood and walked to the kitchen to pour another coffee and begin preparing their lunch. He remembered Nancy had a picnic basket somewhere, probably in the pantry.
The man chuckled. He didn’t think his girls would mind waking up early to go on an adventure. Tincup Pass would make for a perfect day.
He placed his mug on the counter and walked to the pantry. Stepping in, he glanced at the shelves. On top of one, he spied the basket, so he grabbed the step ladder, climbed up, and reached for the item.
Suddenly, a pain wracked his body, and then another. He couldn’t breathe or even call out. He tried to steady himself and grabbed a shelf, but as he fell, the top racks tumbled down along with Nancy’s Christmas china. As the plates fell, they hit cupboards and counters, and the dinnerware shattered. The shards rained down over his limp body.
Before losing consciousness, he looked at the broken glass. The slivers of shattered china glittered like snow. “Lovely,” he thought before he took his last breath.
Writing Prompt:
For today’s prompt, let’s write about a workaholic.
My dream home would be to live among the pines in a mountain town made of clouds and fresh air. During winter, I would view majestic peaks with snow-capped mountains. My alpine meadow would come alive in spring and summer when wildflowers of Blue Columbine, Black-eyed Susans, and Blank Flowers filled my world with timeless beauty. In the fall, aspen would begin their fall show as leaves changed from deep yellow to gold.
I would find comfort and peace with two pint-sized companions that would announce the arrival of chipmunks, rabbits, and deer. We would spend our days under a canopy of towering pine, exploring mountain trails. Then, in the evenings, we would settle down on a back porch swing and watch for shooting stars. And I would breathe and enjoy a quiet life of simple living.
Prudence cried for Samuel, “I can’t find her anywhere!”
Samuel stopped working on the bed he was making for their daughter and followed Prudence from the barn.
“I’ll search the trees, and you search the fields,” he told his wife.
The two separated, running in opposite directions, calling for the child they dearly loved.
As Prudence neared the pond, she heard a child’s laughter, and relief and gratitude washed through her. She slowed her pace to enjoy the moment. Her daughter was safe and happy!
As she turned the bend in the road, she suddenly froze, shocked by what she had witnessed. Rachel sat in the meadow grass, but she was not alone. Animals surrounded her, and her daughter laughed with glee as a doe came near and licked the child on her head. Fox kits laughed along with her baby and rolled on their backs. Chipmunks sat in Rachel’s lap. But the magic ended when Prudence shrieked!
The doe quickly sprang into action and bolted for cover under the canopy of the nearby sycamores. The kits ran to a thicket of blackberries, hiding in the brambles. Chattering, the chipmunks disappeared into the tall grass. As the animals retreated, Rachel began to cry, and Prudence ran to pick up her daughter. The mother could feel her heart pounding as she held the crying girl. Fear swirled, and she wished to know more about the child her husband had brought home to her.
Wishes can be a source of natural tension for a story—will the protagonist get their wish fulfilled or not? What are the consequences of that outcome? For today’s prompt, write about a wish.
For today’s prompt, write about a parent’s wisdom. It could be a physical key, a metaphorical one, or even something completely abstract—it’s totally up to you!
As she sat in her usual seat, I watched her. The quick lunch with a glass of Chardonnay, the quilt of drinking and returning to her job, the breath mint to cover any telltale signs.
Adrienne rarely displayed her emotions and lived a private life. She had few friends, and even her closest companions knew little about her past. But I knew everything, her painful struggles, and her losses. Wearily, I watched in fascination as she picked up the pieces of her life, time after time.
As a child, the girl lost her parents at such a young age she could barely remember them. Her parents died in a cross-country skiing accident in Colorado. The avalanche took her parents in an instant, and she soon moved in with her grandmother.
Over the years, she shared a happy life with her Gram. The woman doted on her granddaughter. The time the two spent together was a gift to Adri, and she treasured the grandmother who loved and adored her. Still, another life ended unexpectedly. When Gram passed, she took a piece of Adri’s heart with her.
And my Adri became another young girl locked into a heartless system of bouncing from home to home. Her fragile life became a series of heartache, one catastrophe after another. Then it settled into a life she found tedious and boring, hence the Chardonnay to get her through the afternoon.
A market research analyst sounded exciting on paper; however, the tedious research on women and their needs and wants left her frustrated. Inwardly, she screamed, “We can do better.” It became her daily prayer. She wanted to chuck it all in a world of face creams, the latest body sculpting techniques, diet crazes, how-tos on makeup, and how successful women juggle families and careers. Still, she did have one favorite research topic: the wines of Napa Valley.
Today, after work, she rushed to the corner bar and grill and ordered her classic chef salad with the ranch on the side. From her research, she knew an oak-aged California Chardonnay would pair nicely with her lean meal and ordered accordingly. Next, she pulled her tablet from her Bottegga Veneta, a gift from a client, and continued her research on Lost Alabaster. The shoe giant wanted to know the latest on a woman’s desire for mid-top sneakers. Colors, styles…oh, she sarcastically thought, maybe throw in comfort and support just for fun!
Sighing, she polished her drink and ordered another. She halfway picked at the salad. She pushed her favorite toppings to one side – the tomatoes, the homemade croutons, the pieces of boiled egg, the cubed cheddar, and small slices of grilled chicken. Always a picky eater, she learned to eat what was on her plate from her teenage years. Now she had the luxury to pick and choose, but old habits died hard. Three bites of the Romaine, one bite of cheddar, followed by the chicken. Three bites of Romaine, two bites of the croutons, after all, who could resist, followed by a cherry tomato. It would take a third glass to finish her meal.
Sighing, she shoved her plate from her and sipped on her third, or was it a fourth glass of wine? She decided to go with three; the one at lunch did not count. She wondered how her life had become so routine and uneventful.
After her Gram died, she lived in a series of foster homes. While living in these shelters, coping skills kept her going. Strange eating habits, listening to music on headphones to drown out the sounds of “family.” Keeping emotions in check. Applying herself in school maintained a steady stream of excuses to stay away from her current dwelling. That’s probably how she became involved in market research. In foster homes, wifi and cell phones were a luxury she lacked. Adri didn’t mind; it gave her the necessary pretext to stay away from the life she abhorred. She spent hours at the library researching school projects on various history, English, and Science topics. She liked the distraction that kept her from dealing with the missing pieces of her life.
At one home, she almost felt she belonged. Adri trusted her foster mom. Zoe tried to make her feel welcome. She never lied to her and even told her the truth. Money was tight, and she needed a roommate, ergo Adri. The two grew close, almost like sisters. One weekend the two binge-watched the entire series of Charmed and ate Ben and Jerry’s straight from the carton. Zoe was a faithful friend who ensured she had wifi for school, clean clothes, and decent meals, well, most of the time, anyway. She allowed Adri to bring home friends and talked to her about boys and birth control. At last, Adri felt she could actually inhale and breathe.
I was at her school the day when her social worker, Ana, arrived. The woman took her to the counselor’s office and methodically and rather coldly told her that Zoe had died on I-80 earlier that morning. The foster mom had been the victim of road rage, and while the shot was not meant for her, she had unknowingly driven into the line of fire. The shooter fled the scene in a silver Volvo or was it a Hyundai? No one glimpsed the driver’s face. Hell, no one even knew if the driver were female or male. Safe to say the shooter was still at large.
That night Adri slept in her first group home, the Kinship House. Two nights later, she woke to a frenzy of wails and screams. One girl in the dorm had slit her wrists and was rushed to the emergency room by ambulance. I watched as that girl recovered, and the girls at Kinship House did not.
A week later, against Adri’s wishes, Ana found her a new placement. A tired couple with grown children took the bewildered girl into their home. Adri’s latest family included two foster siblings, a 14-year-old boy named Isaak and a 12-year-old girl named Nevaeh.
“I saved the lower bunk for you,” Nevaeh gushed.
“Whatever,” sighed Adri as she hopped into the sanctity of the upper bunk. She slipped on her earphones and blasted some Wolf Alice:
She needs a lover to escape her father and mother
She hopes for some other way out of the hole
She’s overachieving, chasing her dreams
And coming down slowly, yeah, it’s out of control
I watched as she navigated life at the Clay residence. It was tolerable as long as she was home by curfew and did not complain about the endless stream of boxed mac and cheese. Still, East Oakland was not the safest place. After Isaak was knifed, the Oakland Tribune rushed an article about foster homes and safety. Social workers scrambled to find new homes for the children. Nevaeh went to a house somewhere in Eureka, Isaak to Stockton, and Adri landed with a young couple in Sausalito.
The Canes were kind, but Adri kept them and everyone else in her life at a distance. Senior year stay on the path – apply for scholarships – no distractions – no commitments – no attachments – no more deadly situations. Did death really seem to follow her?
College at UC Berkley came and went. But, after a brief affair with a married college professor, Adri stayed on course with her mantra of zero involvement.
After college, her business management degree landed her a place with Samuel, Inc. near North Point in San Franciso. Thus, her life of endless tedious research. “Life,” she laughed, could not become any more dreary.
On her days off, Adri made the most of her time. She decorated her apartment on Pierce. On the weekends, she rode her bike along the Presidio or visited the galleries or the Japanese Tea Garden in Golden Gate Park. San Francisco had really become her home.
But she knew she would eventually have to give it all up if she wanted to remain semi-sane. Her research gig paid the bills for her lifestyle, the apartment, the clothes, and the weekends in Napa, but she knew she would have to find another job soon. Life was too short to work from nine to whatever and chase after the empty ads of false promises and dreams.
One day after scanning work sites, she read a job ad that caught her eye.
Save our planet!
Wanted: Research Assistant for an upcoming global sustainable company. Pay
negotiable. Nice perks. Interested?
650-523-1900.
She scanned the requirements and knew a pay cut would be in order for any save-the-world type of employment, but she sent in her resume anyway. Two days later, she received a call from the owner. It really was new and upcoming. His office was in a spare bedroom in his North Point apartment. Still, she agreed to meet him, not at his apartment but at a nearby pub. Her meeting was in two days.
Although she was nervous about the new prospect, she was also excited. I noticed she smiled a little more for the first time in a while. She laughed a little more and drank slightly less wine. I hoped the tide had turned.
The night before her interview, Adri unexpectedly had to work late. As she finished her menial tasks, she couldn’t wait to leave. She wanted to get home, kick off her shoes, and sip on her favorite Zinfendal from the valley, another gift from a client.
After calling for a ride, she slipped on her Versace Sneakers and a light Moncler jacket. It had been a long day, heels were out, and it was dark; she laughed. Who would know? Grabbing her tote, she headed out of the office and took the stairs, not waiting for the elevator.
Once on the street, she lingered in front of the building for her ride. Watching from across the street, I smiled. Adri looked happy. Tomorrow was her interview, and I hoped her life would become more enjoyable for the young woman that had known so much heartache. Whistling, I walked to the corner, for I was still on the clock. This old soul enjoyed walking the streets of North Point in the evenings, something Adri and I had in common.
Suddenly, I had been summoned. “Oh no! Oh no! Oh no!” I cried. I recognized the address. At full speed, I rushed to my next destination, and as I feared, Adri sprawled on the sidewalk. People were screaming; others called 911. A woman sat on the cold walk with Adri’s head in her lap. She uselessly pleaded with my girl to stay with her. But the bullet from the driveby found its mark. Senseless slaughter.
Taking Adri’s hand, the young woman looked up at me and asked, “Do I know you?’
I smiled, “No, not really. We never formally met, but I have wandered in your life from time to time and marveled at your persistence to make it in your world.”
She gazed up at me, rightfully confused.
“Let me explain,” I continued. “I first met you when your parents passed. The next time we crossed paths was when Gram and Zoe died, a terrible tragedy. Then I was summoned twice again, once when the girl from Kinship House slit her wrists and again when Issak was stabbed. Thankfully, the two survived.”
I nervously laughed before I continued. “My career is rather bleak. I am summoned all hours of the day and night. I find my client and leave. After some time, you caught my attention; you were often present at my appointments. I watched as you mourned for your parents, grandmother, and friend. After those occasions, I watched over you, hoping your life would improve. But then, after the girl from Kinship house and then Issak, I worried. Plus, your job at Samuel was so insanely mortifying.”
I rambled on, “And I will have you know I literally jumped for joy when you called Ron about the new job. You would have loved it!”
Sighing, I hung my head before I continued. “I was warned about getting attached to the people left behind, but here I am, my dear, mourning you like I would my own child if I were allowed to be a father.”
“Wait!” She screamed. “Am I…am I”
“Dead?” He finished for her. “Yes, my child, I am afraid so.”
Writing Prompt:
For today’s prompt, write from the perspective of a guardian angel. Whether that’s a supernatural being or just an angel on Earth, let your creativity soar!
Burrowed beneath the many layers of blankets, the pair sleeps. The frosty morning surrounds the room, and a chill lingers. Earlier, one braved the cold for a fire in the woodstove pops and crackles, and the aroma of brewing coffee fills the morning air. As footsteps approach the room, a nose peeks from under the covers and then another. Mama laughs and calls, “Wake up, you two lazy bones.”
The two shake off the covers in anticipation. They know Mama has brought them breakfast in bed. Mitzi yawns, and Max smiles. Always the gentleman, Max waits for his sister to be served first. After a long slumber, the starved siblings gulp down their morning treat. After eating, Mitzi quickly scrambles beneath the covers once more. Max follows, but first, he gives his Mama a quick kiss on the cheek.
Laughing, the woman never imagined she would one day be waiting on two spoiled babies while serving them breakfast in bed. “Oh, the life of a Doxie mom,” she tells herself. But, of course, no one listens to her declaration. Her furbabies are already dreaming about chasing rabbits and wondering what mama will serve for lunch.
Writing Prompt:
For today’s prompt, write about a lazy weekend morning. Maybe it’s one that stays lazy or one that gets interrupted by something surprising.
In the spaces between our busy lives, we found love in fleeting, precious moments. John’s work kept him traveling across the country, sometimes around the world. It wasn’t ideal, but his job was important to him, and I reminded myself that I had known this when I married him. Still, I missed him fiercely when he was away.
That evening, he slipped into bed late, weary from his travels, and drew me close. “Annie, my love, I just want to hear your laughter and stay in your arms,” he whispered, enfolding me against his chest.
I smiled and nodded in agreement as I pushed in closer to his side of the bed, savoring the warmth of his body.
“I wish I could always be with you. This job demands too much of my time. We need this week away.”
His work was demanding, but he always made up for lost time. Drowsy, I let my mind drift to our past escapes together. The last trip, we had fled to a cabin in the mountains in spring, nestled among towering pines. We slept together in a hammock beneath a blanket of stars, breathing in the scent of blue spruce and lodgepole pine. I remembered our spontaneous dance in the rain, splashing in puddles like carefree children, so in love that the world seemed to shrink around us.
Each journey we took left an indelible mark on our hearts; love laced to the regions we visited, each place gifting us its flavor, a token of its beauty.
“Where are you taking me this time?” I questioned playfully
“A surprise, my love, a surprise.”
It didn’t matter. John could take me to the moon, and I would be happy. He always surpassed my expectations, filling me with a love that reached deep into my marrow.
Before we drifted to sleep, he whispered, “Do you remember the storm in Sedona?”
I smiled, recalling the silver flashes cutting through the desert sunset. Thunder rolled like a symphony, and rain misted beneath the pergola, caressing our bare arms and legs as we shivered in the desert heat.
“Or the sleepy ocean at Assateague Island with wild horses roaming the beaches?” I murmured in return
He laughed, ‘You were smitten with the blue of the sea and the splendor of the wild mustangs. Two of your favorite things.”
“You do know how much you mean to me, right?” He earnestly questioned.
“Tell me,” I whispered.
Brushing the hair from my face, he traced my lips with his fingers. “I would give my life to you. I long to drown in your laughter. I want to always be with you.”
Life with my love was an adventure—an intimate voyage traced in breath, laughter, and the secret currents that moved between us. As he murmured his tribute, I quieted him with the softest touch. ‘Shh,’ I whispered, drawing him into the sanctuary of my arms. ‘Come… let me love you.’
The night unfurled around us like silk, gathering us into its dark, shimmering hush until the world dissolved at its edges. And in that drifting, where desire and tenderness wove themselves into something almost sacred, I understood: the heart of a partnership is not simply in the moments we share, but in the way we surrender to them together—choosing, again and again, to meet each other where wonder lives
For today’s prompt, write a story inspired by a favorite song. This could be an old song you still love, a new one you can’t get out of your head, or maybe a song your characters can’t get away from. The choice is yours!
“Let us be foolish, then, because if we can save even one life, we are the best of fools.“
Chaya Lindner
So. have you ever been so engrossed in a book that you stayed up until dawn began its morning glow? Well, Resistance is that book! And thank goodness for coffee! That day, I gulped down coffee to stay focused in my middle school classroom! And, of course, my students laughed at me when they discovered the truth about my teaching slump that day! Talk about a book endorsement!
Recently, I read the book Resistance by Jennifer A. Nielsen. As a middle school teacher, I wanted to find a book on historical fiction about the Holocaust. This book did not disappoint! I have included this book in my classroom library, for it is an excellent addition to teaching my unit on the Holocaust.
Jennifer A. Nielsen, a noteworthy writer, grew up in Northern Utah. She began her writing journey while in elementary school. Over the years, her love of writing grew into a career. To date, her books have been translated into over 21 languages.
She focused on young adult novels with her books, but I must maintain that this teacher was riveted and glued to her seat as she read this novel. Her characters came alive. I could not put down this action-packed book, for I wanted to find out what happened next to the protagonist, Chaya Lindner, a courier for a Jewish Resistance group known as Akiva. Throughout the story, I quietly cheered her on as she made her daring entries and escapes in the ravaged Polish ghettos during WW2.
RESISTANCE by Jennifer A. Nielsen
Jennifer wove a tale of historical fiction about the Holocaust. It was set in Poland before the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising. It included historical figures from the actual resistance movement. The characters were believable and well-rounded. Their stories added perspective to the historical tragedy and fighting spirit of the Jewish people who lived through the Holocaust.
The research and accuracy of this time were reflected throughout her story. Her attention to detail surfaced throughout her novel. Her depiction of the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising kept me on edge as this nailbiter heaped on the action. I would recommend this book to teens and adults alike. It always jolted and astounded with its thrilling escapades and adventures. Moreover, readers will be encouraged by Chaya’s strength, courage, and determination to help her people.
Resistance by Jennifer A. Nielsen | Scholastic Fall 2018 Online Preview
If I won the lottery, I would do all the normal things that I know I should do. I would help family and friends and set aside money to help those down on their luck. But the one thing I know I would do in a heartbeat would be to find a mountain cabin among pine trees and aspens in the Colorado mountains.
For me, there is just something magical when spending time in nature. I love the smell of mountain pines on a crisp morning. I enjoy setting on a porch, drinking my coffee, and watching hummingbirds flit about their feeders and chipmunks scurry about looking for food to store. I love hearing breaking twigs and crunching leaves, knowing that when I look up, I will view mule deer walking slowly in the distance, ever alert of their surroundings.
Relaxing in the mountains offers a quiet peace and restores the soul. So until I win the lottery, I will be content taking my mountain getaways and dreaming of a time when I can call a piece of the Rocky Mountains home.
“There are two lasting bequests we can give our children: One is roots, the other is wings.” Teaching children values and giving them the opportunity to excel is essential to good parenting. However, I feel I must also provide my children (and myself) insight into the ones who came before us: our ancestors whose lives and stories have shaped us into who we are. This is my journey; these are their stories…
Tales of a Family 