Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Confessions.
The Many Faces of Me
What an unforeseen moment of serendipity it was stumbling across this challenge so soon after reliving my own teen music experience with a close friend of mine. Just recently while wandering the well-worn track of our weekly walks, my best friend and I issued each other a challenge. We were to each put together our own playlist, filled to the brim with songs from our teenage years so that on our next walk we would be able to share and compare. For every song, we would detail how we came across it and why it resonated with us so heavily during our teenage years. Given our little friendly challenge, I’m sure you can understand why this Vocal prompt came as a pleasant, though somewhat unexpected and surreal surprise.
By Bree Beadman5 years ago in Confessions
A Kid Growing up in the 70's
A Kid Growing Up In The 70” s - What a Shit Show What the Hell were you thinking? It is believed that the stars and heavens predetermine your life path by the time and date you are born. I agree this might be true. I also think that life experiences can and do contribute to what we say, do and how we act. Unfortunately, destiny, karma and maybe even hormones play a part in disorientating our thought process. Hence creating moments in your life, you would rather forget. I look back and see one cringe worthy moment after another in my early adolescence. It crept about just waiting to pounce as it conjured in my mind abstract truths and distorted realities. The aftermath engulfed by a common theme; I am going to haunt you until your last breath. It is quite possible that in truth, “shit happens.” Somewhat proven by the following follies.
By Amber D. Coughlin5 years ago in Confessions
Hitch hiking
Hitchhiking: Part 2. Summer 1983 From 2625 Jerseyville road west, to C.H. Bray elementary school, Ancaster On. Yes, by the following summer, hitch hiking along Jerseyville road, was well established by ‘me’ and myself alone. I never, ever, saw anyone else hitch hiking on the road. Saw a few people walking, or riding bikes though. One of the few people I’d often see walking along the road was Richard Klimowski. He was the guy that if you’d honk at him driving by, he’d stop walking, grin and point at you as you’d drive past. His finger following your car. Always made me laugh as a passenger...still does, just thinking about it! He romantically, brought my mother a hand picked bouquet of flowers one early summer’s eve...sweet, but he knew damn well my mother was married.
By Jim E. Beer - Story writer of fact and fiction. 5 years ago in Confessions
Wine gave me Courage
It was a typical Friday, at least for me. I had made it through another week at work, and everyone was excited about the weekend. All week long everyone was anxious for the week to pass by so they could go out on Friday night. Not me, for me it was just another weekend with me sitting at home.
By Flossie Gierke5 years ago in Confessions
ADHD isn't real
S#PSA - #ADHD is a real disability. I have the bank account to prove it. Despite each and every one of the people in my life being employed, I am chronically unemployed. My unemployed status frustrates me because I went to great schools, have great knowledge, and have added immense value to every workplace I've been in. Then I was punched in the jugular:
By Cristal Harris5 years ago in Confessions
Dear Noah
Dear Noah – (Letter number one) Hey, This feels weird. We’ve never met. And I don’t even know if you exist...but...I think I miss you. Up until recently, I’ve been fine. Completely unaffected and uninterested by romance or relationships. I’ve never had the desire to be with someone or to be intimate. I honestly thought there was something wrong with me. Everyone did. Everyone does. But recently, I feel You. I feel the warmth of your arms around me, randomly, and all of a sudden. I feel the shadow of your kisses on my back, or your fingers interlacing mine, and my heart stops a moment. I have never met you, but I think I miss you.
By Bloom5 years ago in Confessions
The Quiet Child
I am the quiet one. The one who is seen and never heard. The one who never gets to speak first and consistently gets cut off. I am the disregarded, overlooked, underestimated child. I may have been born first but I am always the last to be thought of.
By Adaline Archer5 years ago in Confessions
A Short Strange Trip
I make eye contact with a mother pulling her daughter towards herself with a puzzled and somewhat shocked look on her face. I half smile and shrug as Luke and I sprint past her. There are many puzzled looks on the faces of the commuters on this Thursday morning in the very crowded Dulles International airport in Washington D.C..
By Christopher Klocko5 years ago in Confessions
The quiet little girl
When I was just a little girl, 12 yrs old, filled with wonder, braids in my hair that trailed down my bad, eyes wide open, strong enough to challenge the world, so I felt, Id wander off alone in my neighborhood, in a daydream like state of mind, believing I was the star of my movie. I had such a creative mind, in that world, I was a lone wolf, an adventurer, the hero, lol anyone I wanted to be. I lived in a broken neighborhood, where the foundations were built off survival, and tough love, but a love that made you feel like you were a part of a community nonetheless. The aromas of soul food and barbeques still leave a sense of nostalgia when I smell them today. the laughter of adults whom sat outside, filling their lives with small talks and entertainment as the kids played in the streets, racing feet patting against the pavement. the sound of police sirens and helicopters, that remind us why we stick together, and also of the deep brokenness no one was prepared within our community to speak of. As I ventured through this place we called home, through people that called me family, id wave and smile, but my voice was always quiet. I always held my voice, maybe I was too shy, or maybe I was afraid that the many thoughts I had in my head would come flowing out like the sea when it rushes in after a high tide. in my little body, I had so much emotion, so many thoughts, so much energy, and secretly lied a strength and braveness nobody knew. I continued thru the hello's and laughter, till id meet the gate of the community, and step out into what I called another world. I walked until I reach this wooded area of our neighborhood, that had trails and proceed through, I had a favorite little spot where id sit, where a tree had begun to slump over as if it was tired from always remaining strong. I'd lay across this tree smell the cedar and the mixture of freshly cut grass, noticing the caterpillars and birds and other life in these woods, mesmerized by the light casting through the trees, it always felt like I was in another world when I was there. despite the nearby streets, and people walking by. I learned how to shut out the noise and enjoy the silence, maybe I was good at that because I already knew what it felt like to be silent. I started to drift more into this world, and the peace and less into the other, closing my eyes, pretending I was far away from everything, yet still being so close in reality. I opened my eyes startled but the sound of my name being called. my stepdad had been looking for me, I arose silently, inhaled a deep breath of fresh air realizing I was leaving back to reality. I arrived home to the stern Voice of my mothers telling me about going off on my own, and the heavy worry in her voice with the hint of frustration and confusion, for always having to remind me, I stood there silent, wanted to scream my feelings, but not being able too, I felt so misunderstood, my eyes moving side to side as tears filled my eyes, and she continues to scold me till there was nothing left to say, she looked at me, possibly frustrated by my silence, she disliked that I was so quiet, she walked away and I retreated to my room, the only other place where I could be alone with my thoughts, I had some much I wanted to say yet I just couldn't find my voice, more tears came down my cheek, why was I like this, nonmatter the confrontation, or situation, I was just so quiet and reserved. how can someone be so fierce, brave, and not have a voice? I hated it sometimes, I felt prisoner to my mind, as I've watched other kids speak, and were popular and respected because of their outspokenness, whereas I was silent and always challenged. I saw it as their strength but my weakness, at least that's what I thought, I craved for a voice, like them, like my mother who never bit her tongue, maybe that's why I escaped from everyone so much because I was surrounded by people who had a voice while mine was imprisoned in my mind, in in the places I went there was only peace, and there I didn't have to have a voice, but amongst the community most did, and so to them I became known as the quiet girl. To Be Continued...
By kiesha5 years ago in Confessions
Fodder For Fantasy
This title came to me as I was in the grocery store, following my NetworkSpinal Analysis appointment. I liked the way it sounded, and registered it as a potential story topic (I think). However, I looked up the definition for "fodder", and it basically comes down to this: material that is disposable as a means to an end for a larger system (beast, if you will).
By Ad-Libbing With The Z-Man5 years ago in Confessions
