Tag Archives: Siblings

Fiction: New Skills (523 words)

She cupped her hand just slightly, and the smallest of flames danced across her palm, rolling back and forth from her fingers to the heel of her hand.  She flattened her hand again and the flame disappeared, without even leaving a hint of smoke lingering in the air.  “Stop that, would you,”  Tony complained, his voice muffled by the picnic table he was resting his head against. “I can still feel it when you do that.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just fascinating.”  Sally pulled her hand into a tight fist instead.  Tony raised his head off the table and considered his sister for a second. This wasn’t her fault. He shouldn’t take it out on her.

“No, I’m sorry.  We’re just handling this differently. I don’t think I can reach your level of excitement.”  Tony smiled a weak sort of smile.

“Well, my thing is so much cooler than your thing.”  Sally teased lightly, pulling her hand into position once again, watching the flame flicker to life.  Tony muttered something under his breath that Sally was pretty sure was a swear, and pulled his hand into a similar pose. Instead of a little flicker of flame, there was a bead of water, growing bigger the longer he held his hand.  When Tony laid his hand flat, the water didn’t disappear but rolled off the heel of his hand. They watched the water droplet fall and hit the ground, turning the concrete beneath his hand a darker shade of gray. “Besides, mine has a much easier cleanup,” Sally added staring at the circle with an eyebrow raised.

“Yeah, but mine is more useful in the not dying of thirst kind of way.” Tony countered halfheartedly. Sally made the flame shine a little bit brighter, smirking at him as the flame grew a little higher in her hands.  Tony shook his head before lowering it back down to the plastic fake wood. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, yours is cooler.”

“Kids! Inside! Now!” Sally turned to see their grandmother dipping back inside the sliding glass doors of their house, almost slamming it shut behind her.

“Don’t figure that’s a celebration and explanation of how to use our newly discovered powers, do you?” Tony asked.

“I think it’s more likely to be the ‘your father is scum and here’s why’ rant—but with more detail than we got when we were eight,” Sally countered. She felt Tony’s hand, his non-water creating hand, slip into hers and give her a little squeeze.

“We can make it through anything, right Sal?”

Sally squeezed his hand back. “Of course, Tone. Anything we put our mind to.”

“Even our angry grandmother and hands that create something out of nothing?” Tony teased.

Sally tried not to look too worried. “Even that.”

“Then, let’s go.”

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Posted by on May 2, 2017 in Stories


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Fiction: Driving Home (518 words)

Willie stood up and stretched.  Her back gave a satisfied sort of pop, and she sighed. She tested all of her joints and found that her right wrist gave a twinge when she moved it. With an exasperated sigh, she looked around the clearing and found her stack of clothes waiting by the old oak tree, right where she left it.  She dressed quickly, and as she was zipping up her jacket, she heard the rustling through the undergrowth that meant one of her brothers was coming.

“Willamina?” She heard Kenny’s voice calling out, “You dressed?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”  Kenny pushed through the tree line, and smiled sheepishly at his sister, looking the mess he always did. He never remembered to fold his clothes the night before, and always looked like a wrinkled wreck in the morning.  His face was smeared with dirt, and he had part of a dry leaf in his hair.  Willie instinctively reached up and pulled the leaf free, crushing it in her hand, and letting the pieces crumble and fall to the forest floor.  “Let’s go find Samuel, huh?”

“Yeah, okay.”  Kenny started to make his way through the underbrush in the opposite direction of the way he came.  Winni stretched tall once more to see if she could loosen her back more before following him slowly.  They broke into a third clearing, and there was their third sibling.  Samuel looked more solemn than Kenny did.  His face was cleaner, but Willie could see the dirt on his rolled-up shirt sleeves, where he had tried to clean himself up.  For a little while, the three triplets stood in the clearing in silence, sizing each other up silently, trying to determine how the other’s nights had gone.  Willie couldn’t help but wonder if her brothers could tell how her wrist was throbbing at this point.  When they were done, Samuel started leading the way out of the woods proper to where their junky car was waiting.  Willie climbed into the back seat and watched the silent argument between Kenny and Samuel as to who was going to drive.  Samuel won, as Samuel always won, and Kenny pouted in the front seat for the half hour ride home.

It had been like this for years.  Samuel, Kenneth, and Willamina Jones had been born, in laymen’s terms, as werewolves.  Since they were infants, for three nights a month, they changed into wolves, starting one hour after sunset, and changing back one hour before sunrise.  They had never met their father, but they had to assume that he was the one who had given them their condition.  Their mother—after a man she loved left her pregnant, and she gave birth to three “monsters”—wasn’t much help to them growing up. Sam, Kenny, and Willie had learned to rely on each other, and only each other, from a very young age.

Willie stretched out on the back seat and shut her eyes to try to get a little sleep before they made it home. She was safe as long as her brothers were watching out for her.

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Posted by on April 13, 2017 in Stories


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Fiction: Sealed Letter (523 words)

Dear Anna,

I know you don’t want to hear from me right now. I hear that you don’t even go by Anna anymore, but you’re Lydia again. Like Mom and I used to call you when you were very small. Can you even remember us calling you that? Either way, it’s kind of nice. I always like Lydia better than Anna anyways.

But, I know you. And I know that you wouldn’t like me calling you Lydia now. So, I’ll stick to Anna. Because I don’t want to make you any angrier than you already are with me. Because I know you are already livid. But you’re livid with the wrong people.

The truth is—You’re probably reading this years from now.  Maybe five? Six? I’m betting you stuck your head in the sand—ran away—as soon as this letter hit your doorstep. Tried to pretend I didn’t exist. But, you kept the letter. Sealed, but you couldn’t make yourself throw it away, even as you ran. Not this. Not your last contact with your brother.

Then again, maybe I’m wrong. Maybe five or six years down the line this paper will have rotted away under a pile of trash where you immediately threw it as soon as you recognized my handing writing. Maybe I’m wrong—but I doubt it.  So—I’m going to say what I need to say, and you’ll read it when you are good and ready.

I wasn’t to start by saying I love you.  You’re my sister and I will always love you—no matter what happens. I love you with all my heart.  You will always be blood, and I will always want to keep you safe. So, if you’re reading this because you finally came around to my point of view, you can always come see the right side of things. Please, don’t hesitate to come to me. You can walk right in and I promise no one will lay a hand on you. I swear on my life you will be unharmed, and you know how highly I value my life. I want you here with me, Anna, at my side, because I know that together we would be unstoppable. We could make this world what it should be. Wouldn’t that be wonderful, Anna? A perfect world? Us together again? I’ll tell you now, it is all I want.

I still don’t quite understand, Anna, why you left in the first place. I’m not angry, I just don’t understand. You saw the same horrors that I did. You are just as smart as me, so I know you comprehended what we saw. Why didn’t you get angry? Why am I the only who is angry about this? Why don’t you want to change it with me? I just want to understand, An. Please.

I’m keeping the Razr. Even if it’s five, ten, one hundred years from now that you read this letter, I will still have that Razr, charged and with me. You know the number, and I will answer. Call me, please. I miss my sister.


Your one and only brother,


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Posted by on April 5, 2017 in Lydia's Stories, Stories


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Fiction: Legal Theft Project–A Sibling’s Rage (510 words)

It had been a long time since Holly felt like steam was bound to come out of her ears.  She stomped down the sidewalk circling the lake, knowing that her hips and knees would not appreciate it tomorrow morning, but it felt good to get the anger out now. Last time she had been this angry she was five years younger—but even then, thirty-six was not a good age to be stomping on concrete, and forty-one was even worse. But then again it was Tom.

Only one person in the world could make her this angry. That man was her twin brother Thomas. Her older twin brother, he liked to point out, but she just wished he would act a little bit more like it. He was a father, for goodness sake. A father of three. She appreciated that he wanted to love and to find his soul mate or whatever it was he thought was out there—but the priority of his kids should come first.

This last one was quite a catch. Madison. Just saying her name made Holly feel sick. Anyone could see that she was only sticking around because Tom was willing to support her financially, and didn’t ask too many questions about what she did. Refusing to tell him what she would do for days at a time…it was a warning sign itself. On top of that, Holly had warned Tom. His oldest daughter had warned Tom. But he “admired her free spirit.” Even after she had a daughter of her own, she would just leave the baby at home for days while she went “on a trip.”

She was gone again. But—this time it seemed like she was gone for good. True, she’d been gone less than a day—but the fact that she had stolen everything of value from the house and the bank accounts she had access to were now completely drained. Even Tom could read those signs.

That’s why he came here today. To ask for Holly’s help. Because the latest girl, the most recent baby mama, had taken everything, and now he wasn’t confident in his ability to feed his children with any kind of longevity, let alone keep a roof over their head.  He didn’t listen to Holly’s advice, and now he was here asking her to bail him out.

And an evil part of her wanted to say no. Part of her wanted to tell him that he made his own bed now it was time to lay in it.

But of course, she couldn’t do that, because she loved her nieces and her nephew. She wasn’t going to make them suffer or go wanting because their father was kind of an idiot.  She was going to help them out so that they could get everything they deserved, but she was going to make sure that she found a way to make her brother suffer, at least a little, for the stupid situation that he has gotten himself into.  After all, that only seemed fair.

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Posted by on March 10, 2017 in Legal Theft Project


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Fiction: Legal Theft–Letters From The Capital (505 words)

“This is getting ridiculous.” Maggie yelled, crumpling a page of the letter into a ball and throwing it hard against the opposite wall.

“Well, he’s been threatened. Repeatedly. That’s bound to make anyone a little paranoid. We’ll ask him not to next time.” Nan answered carefully, always the peacekeeper between her sister and brother.

“William sent us a letter, in code. When I translated it out, it was in code again. And that was in a third code! Each message took an hour to decode, and then another, and then another.” Maggie was balling up more and more paper, throwing them at her sister’s head now. “And even that isn’t the whole letter! He’s sent us a paragraph a day for the last six days, and the letter isn’t finished yet!”

“He doesn’t want anyone else to get his messages,” Nan offered weakly, “His sisters are the only ones who can know his secrets.” She says the last part like she wasn’t one of his sisters, like she hadn’t sat there just as frustrated as they discovered the third code of the paragraphs.

“Why? What are they going to do with the fact that the orange shipment that he received wasn’t as good as he thought it was? Or with the fact that he got a green jacket for Christmas?” Maggie threw the last piece of untranslated paper at her sister, nailing her in the center of the forehead.

This was the way of the Davis siblings. Maggie was loud and brass and sure that nothing in the world could hurt her—no matter what they threatened. William was quiet and fearful and believed that the only way to remain safe was to act cautiously, growing more and more fearful the older they got. And Nan went back and forth between them, begging Maggie to be more careful, and asking William to take more risks—the glue that held the family together and keep everyone moving forward in the world.

Nan sighed as the paper hit her, but didn’t rise to the anger that Maggie wanted. Instead, she tried to appeal to Maggie’s logic. “What do you want me to do, Mags? The Letter is probably all sent now, all in its code.  I already agreed that we should ask him not to do this again. What else do you want me to do?”

Maggie shifted uncomfortably in her seat—trying to think of something, anything, to demand from Nan now—but she couldn’t come up with anything. “I still don’t like having to decode letters from my brother’s a paragraph an hour at a time.”

“It should be over tomorrow,” Nan offered, based more on hope then on actual proof. “One more hours work and we’ll have the whole letter.”

“I sure hope so,” Maggie groaned, letting her head fall against the desk in front of her. “For my sanity’s sake.”

And for my patience’s sake, Nan added in her own head, getting up to clean up the mess of paper’s Maggie had left.

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Posted by on February 24, 2017 in Legal Theft Project, Stories


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The Traveling Journal of Winifred Jones (824 words)

Winifred Patricia Jones rolled her eyes as she reached for her phone.  The ringtone indicated that her twin brother, Kenneth Hampton, was on the other side of the line. She looked at the clock as she reached for the phone.  Yup, 10:35 am on a Friday.  Kenny had just gotten out of class, and he was desperate again.

“Hello, Kenny.”

“Let’s go, Winni.” This was a conversation they had many times.

“Go where, Kenny?”

“I don’t know.  Anywhere.  Everywhere.  I can’t do this anymore.  I don’t want to be a lawyer, I don’t want to be a carbon copy of Kenneth Hampton Jones, and Kenneth Hampton Jones Jr. You’re always talking about all these places that you want to visit, so let’s go and visit them.”

Mary, Winni’s roommate, came into the room, and saw Winni on the phone.  “You’re going to Wash this weekend?” Mary asked.

Winni placed her hand over the mouthpiece and let Kenny finish his rant. “Most likely. Sorry.”

“No worries.  Stephen is coming. It will be nice to have the room to myself.”  Winni wrinkled her nose at her roommate, who simply grinned a cheeky sort of grin back.

“Fine, but I don’t want to see any evidence of whatever kinky stuff you do in here,” Winni said to Mary, before uncovering the mouthpiece and turning her attention back to her brother, just as he was finishing his usual ravings. “So, what’s your plan, Kenny?”

“Pack a bag.  Pack it light, but pack diversely, because I don’t know where we are going to go yet.  There is a 12 noon bus, right?”

“Yeah. I’ll catch that bus and I’ll see you around one.” Winni started throwing the usual stuff into a bag.

“Excellent.  I love you Winni.”

“Love you, too.”  Winni hit the end button, and dropped the phone onto her bed.  This was something that happened on a semi-regular basis with her brother.  Winni and Kenny had been raised by the “high society” types, as Mary liked to call them.  They were both sent through private schools from age three until they graduated.  Winni was a member of the Daughters of the American Revolution, and was presented to society at least three different times in white dresses and ridiculous curtseys and fans.  Her twin, Kenneth Hampton Jones III, was trained from a young age to go to the same college as both of his father and his grandfather, so that he could become a lawyer, and work in their law firm.

Winni was sent to the all women’s college that was the sister school to Kenny’s Pre law undergrad school.  She was studying English, and has far as her parents were concerned, she was there for her MRS degree, and in the mean time she was to meet one of Kenny’s Pre Law or Pre Med Friends, get married right outside of school, regardless of love, and start squirting out babies as soon as she turned twenty five.

Winni wasn’t going to do that. She had started her planning in Middle School, saving little bits of her allowance under her bed until she was old enough to get a bank account in her own name without her parents knowledge or assistance.  She was going to go to Grad School, to get her degree in English Literature.  After that she was going to travel the world with whatever money she had left, and teach at the University level when that Money ran out.

Kenny, on the other hand, always seemed content to live out his parents dream for him.  That is until last year, half way through their sophomore year of college.  Since then, every couple of weeks, after Friday classes, Winni would get a call from her brother, ordering her to pack a bag, and to catch the bus that connected her school’s student center and his student center, so that they could “run away from all this.”  But it always ended up being the same thing.  Winni would get there, And instead of having her brother waiting for her with his packed, she would find her brother grinning sheepishly at her, saying he overreacted as usual, but inviting her to stay for the weekend anyway. Winni would pretend to be exasperated with her brother, but would accept his offer and spend the weekend partying with a bunch of guys who had “Pre” attached to the front of their majors. Not that Winni was complaining too much. There were a couple of really good looking Pre-Med boys that almost made her wish that she was sticking to her parents plan.

Winni grabbed a couple last things off the top of her dresser, tossed them into her bag, and then made her way to the student center.  She climbed onto the bus, and said hi to Sam, the usual driver, before settling into her usual seat and settling down for a nap for the hour long ride to her brother’s school.

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Posted by on January 6, 2017 in Stories


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Fiction: Legal Theft Project–Poetry (185 words)

“You and I, we have salt water in our veins.” Beth wrapped her arms around her younger half-sister Margie, rocking slightly forward on the edge of the pier behind their house.

“That seems scientifically suspect,” Margie replied, pressing back against her sister to keep them from going into the bay.

Beth sighed dramatically. “You have no sense of poetry.”

“That’s true,” Margie laughed, “But I’ll be quiet if you want to make your poetic point.”

“Thank you.” Beth cleared her throat and started again in a dramatic voice.  “You and I, we have salt water in our veins. Our ancestors were born on the sea. It’s in our blood to want to be out on the open water. The Freedom. The Beauty. The Danger. We yearn for it in our very souls.” She gave her sister a squeeze around the shoulders. “Too much?”

“Meh,” Margie shrugged, “Can’t we just say, ‘Hey Mom, we want to go out on the sea?’”

Beth heaved another sigh. “You have no sense of poetry.”

Margie smiled again, focusing her eyes out on the horizon. “I suppose that’s still true.”

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Posted by on December 21, 2016 in Legal Theft Project, Stories


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