Why does it go through my mind in slow motion? All the memories. Things that were kept tightly sealed ia my imaginary box and put away in my imaginery closet. Trying to keep busy in order not to think, not to remember. But it doesnt help. Dont´t get me wrong they are all not bad memories. Alot of them are good ones but for some reason the bad ones are easier to remember. On my way to work I thought I was running late but as usual i am on time. All my l ...continued...

I was born into a world that was unfit and hopeless. My first memory is of me in my grandmother picking berries in the field. I was the first child born to my mother and was the least important thing in her life. She met a guy and start having kids by him but I didn't like him. he use to call me dumb and stupid and beat the shit out of my mom. I tried to help her but i would get thrown like a feather. One night he decided to teach me a lesson. my mom had went to bed and on his way to the bath room he would slip in to my bedroom to play a game called " don't tell mommy& ...continued...

It was in the centre of Paris that I was run over. Our ever-faithful bicycles were used to the maximum around the city. It was rush hour, and the reputation the Parisians have of being the worst drivers in the world was justified. Admittedly, we were on the pavement, studiously avoiding the square-hatted policemen who had told me off earlier that day for riding on the path. We were sitting at the lights, and when pedestrians were shown the green light, off I sped. A lady in a small car hurtled around the corner through the red light, we collided. Actually, I pushed myself off the car, only ...continued...

North Pole ...continued...

It was very big and heavy, cardboard, cheap painted white with clasps and lock, a holiday case which I used as a school bag, awkward to hold all the books I stored, caught on my bicycle carrier. Cycling home I felt a thud and heard a guffaw: the big school bully had knocked the suitcase onto the road. A challenge, a fight in the field, fear entering my bones. A school memory which sparked the bullying incident in Peeling Oranges. http://www.amazon.com/Peeling-Oranges-James-Lawless/dp/1496007646 ...continued...

Hello, everyone, I am not a writer at all but its something i have been thinking about doing since i was 12 years old. i Have a story i want to tell. I dont want to tell it to make money or get famous. Its a story i want to tell everyone who is or have went through stuff an cant seem to get through it. to let people know everything happens for a reason something good always comes from something bad. The story i want to tell is about my life from the age of ten till the age of 20. From me being molested to me getting married. I think i could get to a lot of people. I want to do something good f ...continued...

SURI’S HEART Kishinev, Moldavia A House in the Jewish Quarter December 1846 by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields “Yussel!” Papa pounded the table with his fist. & ...continued...