Childhood
Phobia
I don’t have the usual phobias that you hear about like arachnophobia or agoraphobia. Most people understand these phobias but Ornithophobia being a bird phobia is hard for people to understand. I had nightmares from time to time when I was a child where I was being attacked by all kinds of birds. They swooped down, surrounding me, pecking me, battering me with their wings all the while their loud, piercing cries deafening my ears. In the dream, I threw myself to the ground and the birds covered me, peck, peck, pecking with their strong sharp beaks, beating me with their wings. When I would manage to get to my feet and run, there would be birds coming at me from the sky, attacking my face and head making terrible, screeching cries. I would wake in a lather of perspiration, waving my arms about to defend myself. Yes, it is hard to imagine being terrified to hold a little canary or have a small wren sit on your hand, but unfortunately, that was my weird phobia.
By Elle 4 years ago in Confessions
The Boyfriend
His name was Rev. Homer Nathaniel Johnson, he was my mom’s boyfriend, and I didn’t like him from day one. I was about eight when they started going with each other and in the beginning, everything was hunky dory. Mom was enamored of this guy and thought he was great but I felt something different, which made me want nothing to do with him. He acted like he was the authority about everything. I thought: I know some things too, my ugly little friend. I know that I would rather have the mumps for a year than be around you.
By Addie Sealey4 years ago in Confessions
Crystallically Me
Hello there~ Pleasure to meet you darling! My name is Crystal, lovely name right? I couldn’t stand it for the longest time, honestly. I mean, the name of a stone? Sure it’s a beautiful gem, but… Did you know that you can forcibly change the color? Yup! It’s science, you need some dye, a torch and patience. But drop the heated crystal in the dye and it’ll drink it up. Though my story is just one of the dime a dozen out there~ I was harassed and degraded into a corner until I wouldn’t show my own color, I was a crystal that hid in the dark; easy enough to mix me up with onyx at that point, ne? I’ll bring you a little bit into my past for how I fell so deeply into the dark, and what finally broke me out of my geode~ I’ll attempt to spare you the puns (no promises!)
By Crystal Ayers4 years ago in Confessions
Oh So Quiet.
Winter in England, UK. 1995. She had no clue; the first rule to ‘fit in’ is to be happy within. In a British state-funded secondary school that smelt of disinfectant, food and sweat, full of testing teenagers, stood a 15-year-old girl. 90% moody, yet defiantly desperate to fit in with her peers.
By ESTHER CLARKE4 years ago in Confessions
A Bitter Taste
I’m sitting there thinking when reality slaps me in the face. I’m really in a lesbian bar. My eyes stared out into the opened air. I always anything but flattered. All my thoughts were married to the lesbian bar that night. I heard wedding bells going off inside my head. My thoughts had been taken captive by Sodom and Gomorrah. I had waiting my whole life to meet the emblem of my dreams. I became inflamed in ecstasy towards females. A voice inside my head spoke, “Are you ready to put a ring around the bars of lesbianism?” This was going to be my big night marrying the women of my fantasy.
By Bernadine Jarmon4 years ago in Confessions
I Go Back To Childhood
My childhood wasn’t something I am proud of or happy to remember. It was a revolving door of scenes, pictures and mini movies that haunt my mind. The majority was spent in my mother’s trailer, a thin white stretch of house with black trim. For part of my life there was a blue shed falling apart in the back yard, and then later there was one built off to the side of the yard, that protective plastic on the wood never taken off and starting to peel as years went by. There was a little blue dog house with black shingles that housed the best friend I had ever known as a child. You would see a smaller version of me climbing all over that dog at any point, clutching his fur while I was huddled inside the small musty smelling wooden house, and I could taste nothing but salty tears. He was always patient though, letting me hold him, and then when I could no longer fit inside, I would sit on the sloped roof and cry, my faithful Max sitting down at my feet and waiting for my sadness to leave. There was another dog, a big boxy rottweiler who let me sit on his not sloped roof and jumped up to comfort me while I cried. Sometimes when I had run outside to cry you could her my mom yelling at me about it, how I had nothing to cry about, I was just being dramatic; can you feel those words pierce my heart like I can?
By Morgan Starkey4 years ago in Confessions
After This Life
Sitting by the brook listening is one of my favorite things to do. Watching it closely, too. The glimmering flow of water gently rolling over rocks, never veering off course as it dances and weaves downstream. Sparkles of light stay in perfect tempo with its soothing sound. Who doesn’t love the music of a brook? I can think of no one. Of course, as a six year old, I don’t know that many people.
By Lese Dunton4 years ago in Confessions
Eight Things I Miss About Childhood. Top Story - December 2021.
The older I get, the more nostalgic I get for the times when I lived at home with my parents and sister and didn’t have many obligations or worries. Looking back with rosy pink glasses, everything seemed so much better, easier, and fun.
By S.A. Ozbourne4 years ago in Confessions
