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Submitted to Contest #96
The Garcia family was sitting down to their routine family dinner. The family, which consisted of four children and their parents, were just about finished with their before-dinner prayers when Mrs. Garcia heard crying right outside their front door. The source of the crying ended up being a two-month old baby girl; she was placed at the Garcia’s doorstep, and sat right in the middle of a wicker basket like it was those past times when people didn’t own factory-manufactured strollers, car seats, or bassinets. Mrs. Garcia, overwhelmed by...
Submitted to Contest #95
Lake Beaver isn’t far from home. Nearly a month ago, I began my daily drives there after work. Nearly three months ago, I applied and started my first shift at Lily’s—the slightly run-down diner that holds a familiar place in my childhood memories. But working wasn’t enough. It got me out of my house for around ten hours, seven times a week. As it turns out, seventy hours a week just wasn’t enough. I needed more—and Lake Beaver granted me that asylum. I didn’t need a job. I didn’t need the money. What I did need was t...
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