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Memoirs Stories

Submissions to this category are generally told in the first person and cover personal reflection, autobiographies and memories of the past.

Rather than focusing on factual accounts, memoirs are more a recollection of moments in time that were either vivid or unique to the author.

verbal 5 days ago

Ground Zero

Echoes of grief, the same footage over and over, a bad dream returning.

In dream my skin has been charred soot-black, not all over my body, but on my arms, my legs, my penis, my chest. In dream I only notice the burns if my eye happens to fall upon that area of skin. There is no pain. No pain, but a deep, shuddering f...

Votes 3
Rating 5
Views 28
Read Time 5 min
Dreamcatcher 1 week ago

Number 10

loving pets

Epilogue to “Cedar Boxes” Once again, for the last time, we await the return of Cedar Box #10. Just a simple rectangular wooden box full of ashes and an interlocking lid with a brass plate on top bearing a name. "Gimley." I guess it is a headstone...

Votes 5
Rating 5
Views 37
Read Time 1 min

I accept I did my part The vows I keep A lifetime of doubt  Never to rest I gave my all You took wanting more Leaving me stripped  Still you want more I keep on giving  A nobody I am Locked in With no way out

Votes 1
Rating 5
Views 42
Read Time 1 min

The night was beautiful No bright moon A peaceful darkness Head pounding like thunder The storm grew She would suffer alone No one to hold her Till the storm passes Fighting a rage within Never to tell her secret She knew and was ashamed She was alon...

Votes 4
Rating 5
Views 50
Read Time 1 min
Mendalla 4 weeks ago

Saturday Afternoons at the Opera

A reflection on how my father's taste in music was passed down

The other day I was doing some work in the kitchen, fixing up the caulking behind the sink. As I often do when I’m doing stuff in that room, I put the radio on to CBC Radio 2. It being a Saturday afternoon, opera poured out into the room. I don’t eve...

You don’t hear that many stories about what it’s like to be dead. That’s probably because dead people tend not to write that much. So, why am I writing about dying? Simple, twenty years ago I died, yes really, I did. And I don't mean dead for a few s...

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I loved being a child in my little house, in my little street. Growing up there was so much fun. Our back garden that seems so very small now was huge when I was a child. In the summer dad would build me a tent out of some old bedsheets. I had so man...

Two dogs. A rabbit. Four cats. Two parakeets. Nine cedar boxes filled with the life’s ashes of our fur and feathered family for over the last 40+ years. We are down to just one now. Gimley the cat came to us some seven years ago. He was a feral cat w...

MikeStone 9 months ago

The Spirit of the Bayonet Fighter

“What is the spirit of the bayonet fighter? To kill, to kill, with cold, cold steel”

  Back in 1961, I heard on the radio that Kennedy had sent 500 US Special Forces and military advisors to a place called Vietnam. I was just starting high school at the time. It was the first time I remember hearing about that country. We also had a...