A Recipe for Fathers and Daughters

A cup of smiles and laughter

2 cups of conversation/communication

A pinch of kindness

A tablespoon of thoughts

2 cups of good actions and deeds

4 cups of forgiving

Endless cups of love

 

A few cups of telling secrets

3 cups of finding similarities

3 cups of finding trust

2 cups of hugs

1 cup of kisses

Endless cups of love

 

Mix these ingredients together gently and with care. Add some tears, sorrow, happiness, and laughter to make you closer. And smile as you do it, smile because you are a Father, a Daughter with endless cups of love.



The Secret Life of a Grandpa

Anger filled his heart and his mind, he had the urge to hurt again and to hit. He was angry at everyone and everything they did. No one could do anything right! No one could understand him! He was alone, and his wife and children seemed like nothing to him. He felt the urge to hurt again even stronger now. It pleased him, he found satisfaction in it, he didn't know why. He stomped down the stairs heading towards their bedroom. He opened the door violently and saw his children sitting there with wide eyes. They knew what he was about to do and fear shown all over their faces. He began to unbuckle his belt and let it slide down to his side. "Who's first?" He had one of them come near and raised his hand high holding the belt tightly. For a moment he stopped and thought, "Why? Why am I doing this? They have done nothing." But the anger was stronger and he soon forget about his thoughts and before he knew it he hit with a mighty stroke, again and again.

 

He lay in his bed weeping and begging for it to stop. He rememberd when he was a child and his parents had done the same thing, he wished he had not done it, had not hurt them the way he had been hurt. But he found pleasure in doing it, revenge and happiness. He liked to see the fear in their eyes and the pain they went through, it was his way of getting rid of his pain. He couldn't stop himself, it was the only way, the only solution. And he hated himself for it. 

A Good List

I’ve never made a list of all the good things I’ve done

I use to make lists of all the bad

Of all I’ve done wrong

But now I must think

And think hard

What good have I done?

 

I’ve helped my parents and brothers when they were sick

I’ve given advice to family and friends

I’ve tried to be there for people when they have no one else

And I try to love and show love to all those I care about

I don’t know much else of what I do

 

I’ve helped clean, and clean until it was spotless

I’ve helped do yard work

And babysat little children

But I’ve never done anything extraordinary

Something people would always remember

 

I’ve helped give people food when they were in need

I’ve been a good friend

And I’ve learned to fall in love

That is my good list

Falling to a New World

He looked around from the place he had fallen. He was in the middle of a wood, trees surrounding him all going upwards. There were thorny bushes all around and he had scratches all over his arms and face from the fall. There was no way out, he couldn't see a clear opening to escape the place he was in, unless he wanted to go through those bushes again. Why had he listened to his friends? They had asked him to go down the hill on a tube to see how far he'd go, they hadn't realized how far it went and that there was no way back up. He swore under his breath wishing he would have thought things through. He wondered if they would go find help, but until then he'd have to find a way out on his own. He began to search his surroundings and see if he could somehow get out. Suddenly his leg fell through a deep hole in the ground. "Great," he thought. "Now my leg is stuck." He pulled away from the whole as hard as he could and finally yanked it out. He staggered and fell back. He was about to swear again when he saw smoke rising out of the hole. He gaped in awe wondering what it was. Then he heard a voice. "Who dares to wake me in my slumber?" He shook with fear at the voice for it was full of power and enchantment, making him unable to move or speak. The voice then repeated, "Who are you to wake me? How did you come across my beloved home?" This time he answered but with a quievring voice. "I did not know you were here uh sir, I fell from the top of the hill and got stuck in your hole...er home." The voice did not speak for a few moments then suddenly he saw a claw stretch out of the hole and slowly climb out. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. It looked like a small dragon! "Y-you're a d-dragon!" "Yesss," He replied, "I am and you have woken me in my slumber. For that you must now repay for it is a sin to wake a dragon. You will have to repay me and forever be my servant." With that he grabbed the boy by his ankle and dragged him down to his hole, where a new world could be found. 

From Dawn until Nightfall

Here he crept from dawn until nightfall

Here was the place he once called home

But now no one knew him and no one cared

He was gone forever in their eyes

Yet he desperately tried to call out to them

"Here!" "I am still here!"

Silence

No one could hear him

No one would even try to listen

Each morning came and went

Each night felt endless and lonely

He wished he had done more with his time

Wished he had cherished every breathe he took

It was all gone now

And no one cared

About the man who use to live in a small cozy home

Who said hello to anyone who passed by

Who once gave out candy to little children

No one would remember

As he paced back and forth along the old forgotten home

He heard a creek, as if he weren't the ghost

But someone else was

There a little boy peered into the house

He seemed frightened, but determined

Slowly he came inside not even noticing the man who once lived there

He walked to the center of the room and there placed a few things

He looked around before quietly saying

"I will always remember you."

Then he left

The man then crept to the center of the room

He saw candy and his old cane he once had to use

In the cane was carved the words “We love you old man”

Then he knew he was not forgotten

The children still knew

Here he crept from dawn until nightfall

Here was the place he called home

And they knew him and they cared

He wasn't gone in their eyes

He could call out to them

They would hear

They would listen

To the ghost who lived in a small cozy home

Flash 1

Her Own Little World

She sat on the floor with a smile on her face, she was in her own little world where there was peace and happiness and she could become whatever she wanted. She looked at all her toys with joy in her heart, she felt as if they were alive and that she could tell them everything. Everything was good and everything felt happy. Suddenly a door slammed hard and it made her jump. "No," She cried, "Not today, please not today..." She opened the door to her room slightly and poked her small head out to see who it was this time. In the next room she saw her father and one of her sisters yelling at each other. She looked at her dad, his face red with fury and her sister, tears running down her face, but she had a look of hatred. She couldn't really understand what they were saying only that they were angry at each other. The feeling in the house felt strong and full of loathing, it was so strong it almost hurt to breathe, as if it were in the air like a poison. Her little body shook and tears came down her cheeks, she wished she could go back to her own world where she felt happiness. But how could she when the real world was at her door, making sure every moment of her small life would be torture and would be filled with pain? No explantions, no love, no family, only pain. 

An Old Man's View

The sound of a car honking and a tire rubbing against the road brought him back to the world. He quickly looked at the angry driver staring at him and crossed the street as quickly as his old legs would carry him. As he reached the bus stop he stared at the empty bench in front of him, a coldness came over him as if there was a violent wind pushing through him. The bench was black and cold and a little broken around the edges. He stared at the bench, feeling as if it too had gone through what he had. Finally he decided to sit on the bench and as he did he felt a twist in his chest, his heart beating fast; it was hard to breath. Suddenly he heard a loud woosh as the doors of the bus opened. He sat there staring at the doors. The bus driver looked at him and asked. "Are you getting on?" He said nothing, only looked at him and wondered how could he possibly not know? The bus driver then decided to leave him on the bench and drove away. He felt alone and lost, like the bus driver had left his life too. As if everyone would leave him now. He sat on the bench for hours, cold and helpless. He stared at the busy cars in front of him, wondering how life could go on. And as bus after bus came and went, he sank deeper into despair and grief.