A Memory About Family

But he could read minds. He had to have known about his destiny all along. No one could keep a secret from him. Why didn’t he turn himself in?

“Because I was protecting my parents.”

I spun around. Gem stood at my open door. His gaze pinned me.
“What do you mean?” I asked. So much for get-to-know-you chitchat!
“No need for chitchat, Miss Punicello. I know you already.” His voice was flat and matter-of-fact, as if patiently explaining a complicated concept to a child.
I said nothing.
“From almost birth, I had an understanding of what I was meant to do for the world. My parents were afraid because I was gifted, and they worried about whether or not I was the next Omnicron. They were really scared at the thought of giving me up, and my mom panicked inside every time she wondered about it. So I hid my magical gifts from the moment I was old enough to understand them. They didn’t know. They weren’t at fault.”
“But… they were imprisoned –”
“They weren’t. Instead of making The Savior Omnicron look selfish and deceitful, Tuson worked with the national justice system to pretend to ‘do away with them,’ but instead they helped my parents go into hiding. The world needed to make an example of them for show.”
I sputtered. “What? Your poor parents! That’s terrible! People are judging them falsely!”
– Gem
On Amazon HERE
(and out in A Bottle of Glass Hearts, releasing on February 14, 2018!)
Thoughts of Blaine’s mother always came with thoughts of his stiff, traditional father, his serious lips a constant thin line. It was as if James T. York always feared originality and spontaneity would burst out and humiliate him one day, so he kept his thoughts firmly tied in the back of his throat. Growing up, it was hard to get the man to say more than three sentences a day, and they tended to be always the same like a stuck old-fashioned record: “Thank you for the coffee” (always black), “Supper was delicious, my dear,” (always after having finished his entire plate), and “How was school, Blaine?” (to which “Okay, Dad” was always the answer).
Blaine’s mother had named him – the woman was bursting with creativity that was slowly and lovingly stifled under her husband’s stick-in-the-mud heavy monotony. So she cooked. Baked. Broiled. And sautéed. And she was pretty darn good at it too. Her confections could have won her a spot in a top bakery. But those masterpieces were created for the York family mouths only, to Blaine’s dismay.
The day he had announced he wanted to be a hairdresser, his mother’s eyes had sparkled without surprise. He had been playing with her graying wiry strands since they were blond and springy. He had kept her looking glamorous for years.
But his father’s eyes had blinked in horror. “Isn’t that a job for women?” had been the expected dark-ages reply from James T. York, banker and owner of three navy blue suits and two gray ties.
“I’m an artist, dad. It’s an art. And I really love people.” Blaine threw out a chuckle as if he didn’t care. But he did. Confrontation wasn’t his strong suit, and he wanted the fight to be over before it began. “I already have enough for school and you don’t have to spend a cent.”
Blaine had kissed his mother’s wet cheeks, moved out, and, a thousand practice hours and a license later, teamed up with Marguerite, a schoolmate. She had a steady military boyfriend and an inheritance from a beloved grandmother, and so she offered him a partnership strings-free. At that point, even James T. York saw Blaine was committed. The day his father came in to Upper Cuts for his standard Ivy League cut was the day Blaine felt he had arrived.
– Curls for Rae
(in A Bottle of Glass Hearts, releasing February 14, 2018!)
“Please! Don’t hang up on me! I want you to come home!”
My cry echoed hollowly as the dial tone stung my ear. Dropping the receiver, the burning hit my eyes with a hellish fervor. They stung until the saltwater tears poured out to douse the fire behind my vision.
She wasn’t coming home. My beautiful, lovely, one and only teenage daughter. Lost to me, she refused to leave the sin and return. Repenting and begging for forgiveness wasn’t on her rebellious bucket list.
Was this the fifth time I wept today? The constant falling of life-water onto my face did nothing to assuage my heart. Like a bandage that would not stick, the tears failed me, but still, they would not cease.
Drained with grief, I stumbled back into the room where my husband lay sleeping, and crawled under the heavy quilt. Wrapping myself securely, I crouched near his warm body, trembling with the shivering sobs. Chill seeped in through the sheets. Would I ever be able to set a firm chin of resignation to this issue of my precious baby daughter?
– His Bottles of Tears
(in A Bottle of Glass Hearts, releasing February 14, 2018!)
“When we are first born out of a moment of deep adoration, our mother sends us away in our infant state, choosing, at birth, that we will be the saviors of our families. We chrysalize like your butterflies, and, in just over a year, we mature into the adults you see now. Your atmosphere hits our full-grown hearts, and we feel that we are starving. This sent us to find you human to keep us alive. Those that are not sold quickly despair and die.
– Lucent Sylph
On Amazon HERE
(and in A Bottle of Glass Hearts, releasing February 14, 2018!)
She flung it. Threw it from her with the might of a thousand starwarriors before her. The hot ball of gas spun and sputtered, flying end over end. It whirled toward the densely ebony being only a few light years from her, its ugly hide filling the entire span of a galaxy.
– Aine, Starwarrior
(in A Bottle of Glass Hearts, releasing February 14, 2018!)

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