Explore stories tagged with childhood on Nightscribe and discover reads shaped by this mood, theme, or genre.
I'm a Disney fanatic; if you were to ask me something, I'd know it. But sometimes you don't know EVERYTHING Disney does..
“Aww, Mervin, did you break Daddy’s wine bottle?” Emily was washing dishes when she heard the sound of the bottle shattering. “It was Ed, not me!” insisted Mervin. Emily knew there was no way the three-year-old could open the middle shelf of the cupboard yet. Mervin had turned six last month, and he was just tall enough to reach it. “Now, now, I already know it was you. I saw you playing with the cupboard handles. Don’t try to blame this on your little brother,” said Emily.
Jason watched the hands of the clock ticking. The hour hand was moving to nine o’clock. The hour he dreaded so much. His eyes darted around the room. In the corner his blue lava lamp cast fleeting shadows that resembled dogs, silhouettes and long-fingered hands, prancing and clawing up and down the bedroom walls and on the window curtains. He clutched his beloved teddy, Bubbles, very tightly.
A flame burst from the darkness. It was hesitant for a moment, but flashed for an instant, showing the faint glimpse of a lone figure. A second flame was made, but it sizzled low before fading away. The third, like the first, was shy for a moment. However, soon it became full of thorns and nipped at the fingers of its master, but it was held in its place. It would not go its own way, no, it must be sealed in a cage of iron and glass.
Matt and I returned to our hometown after our first semester in college. We arranged to meet at a bar to catch up and trade stories. “How's UVA?” Matt asked, sipping his glass of Shiraz. “Pretty good,” I replied. “I think I'll major in physics.” I took a swallow of my beer. “How about you?” “Yale's everything I hoped for—and more,” Matt answered, “but I still haven't settled on a major yet. Philosophy maybe, or comparative lit…”
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