Original Stories

The icy wind stung Emily Carter’s face as she gently set her four-year-old daughter, Ava, on the snowy sidewalk in Maplewood, Vermont, just a block from the town’s annual Winter Maple Festival. Ava, wrapped in a puffy blue jacket and a knit beanie with a bright red pom-pom, looked like a tiny snowman toddling through the drifts.

• Come on, sweetie, let’s use those legs, Emily said, her voice soft but worn. You’re getting so big, and Mommy’s wicked tired from carrying you, okay?

Ava let out a big, dramatic sigh, her breath forming a frosty cloud, but she nodded and shuffled along, her boots crunching in the snow. 

• That’s my girl, Emily said, exhaling with relief.

Ava often whined about her legs hurting, and Emily would end up hauling her around, despite the ache in her own shoulders. The pediatrician had checked Ava out and said it was just growing pains—her bones were stretching faster than her little body could handle. She’d recommended some gentle stretches and a warm bath to ease the discomfort, but it didn’t stop Ava’s complaints. 

• Hey, what if we get you a sled? Emily said suddenly, her eyes sparkling. We could race down the hill by the park, maybe even at the festival. Wouldn’t that be awesome?

The idea hit her like a snowflake on a warm cheek. Why hadn’t she thought of it before? Probably because her life was a nonstop circus—work, Ava, and endless requests from her mom and sister. There was no time to think about fun. 

Emily, 28, was the eldest daughter in her family. She’d married young, had Ava at 24, and then her world shattered when her husband, Jake, a sheriff’s deputy, was killed on duty when Ava was just a baby. Since then, it was just Emily and Ava, scraping by in their small apartment. 

Being a single mom in Maplewood wasn’t a walk in the park. There was no one to lean on when things got rough—no one to watch Ava so Emily could grab a latte at the corner café or just catch her breath. She’d begged her mom, Linda Thompson, to babysit a few times, but it was like asking for a miracle. 

• Why are you always whining? Linda would snap. You get survivor benefits, don’t you? Hire a sitter! You know I’ve got high blood pressure and arthritis. My shifts at the diner wipe me out. Kids are too much. 
• Mom, what about Sarah? Could she watch Ava for an hour? I just need to pick up a form at the clinic, Emily would plead. 
• Sarah’s got her own life! Linda would shoot back, always defending her younger daughter. She’ll have her own kids to deal with someday. 
• She doesn’t have kids, Mom! Emily would argue, her voice tight with frustration. 
• Well, she will! Linda would end the conversation, leaving Emily to drag Ava along to every errand, from the pharmacy to the grocery store.

Things eased up a bit when Emily started working again at the local insurance office and enrolled Ava in Maplewood’s preschool program. But even with a steady paycheck, the costs piled up—preschool fees, winter boots, Ava’s swim lessons. Emily felt like she was running on empty, looking more like a frazzled aunt than the vibrant young mom she used to be. 

To top it off, Linda was always pestering Emily to order gadgets she saw on QVC. 

• I need that back brace with the healing magnets for my sciatica! Linda would insist.

Or: 

• Betty from down the street got one of those fancy foot massagers, and she swears she looks ten years younger. I need one for my health!

Emily tried to explain that those things were overpriced scams, but Linda wouldn’t listen. 

• You can’t spare a few bucks for your own mother? Linda would guilt-trip her. I raised you, stayed up nights, and this is the thanks I get?

So Emily would dip into her tight budget, skipping her own haircut or new jeans to buy her mom’s latest whim. Meanwhile, her younger sister, Sarah, was living it up—newly married, no kids for a while, and free to do whatever she wanted. That is, until Sarah had her daughter, Lily, a year ago. Suddenly, Linda’s health problems seemed to vanish when it came to helping Sarah. She’d babysit Lily, cook dinners, and dote on her “sweet grandbaby.” 

One cold afternoon, Emily worked up the nerve to ask for a break. 

• Mom, can I drop Ava off for a couple of hours? I just want to hit the salon for a trim. I haven’t had a second to myself in years, she said, her voice hopeful. 
• A salon? Linda laughed. Who are you dressing up for? You’ve got a kid to raise, Emily. Focus on that. Besides, Sarah’s coming over with her family later. Why don’t you come too? You can help me cook dinner, and Ava can play with Lily. Perfect plan! 
• Mom… Emily started, but Linda cut her off. 
• Be here by three!

With no choice, Emily and Ava trudged to Linda’s house on her day off to prep for Sarah’s family. As they chopped veggies and set the table, Linda kept at it. 

• Why are you always acting so hard-done-by? she said, stirring a pot of chili. You’ve only got one kid! No husband to cook for, no piles of his laundry. And that office job? Sitting at a desk, clicking away on a computer. Try being Sarah—she’s got it tough when Mike’s out on his trucking routes. 
• Tough? Emily snapped. She’s got one kid, just like me. And you’re always at her place helping! What’s she doing that’s so hard? Ironing his flannel shirts every day? 
• Don’t you compare! Linda barked. She worries about Mike on the road. You don’t have anyone to worry about. I told you not to marry Jake—it’d end in tears. And I was right! 
• Mom! Emily’s voice cracked as she dropped the knife she was using to slice cheese. Jake died! How can you say that? She sank into a chair, tears welling up as she covered her face. 
• Oh, stop the drama! Linda said, rolling her eyes. Sarah’s coming soon, and I don’t need your grumpy face ruining the vibe. 
• Ava, honey, put the cheese back, Linda snapped, spotting Ava sneak a piece from the platter. 
• Mom, seriously? Emily said, shocked. It’s one piece of cheese! 
• I just meant she’ll ruin her appetite, Linda mumbled, backtracking. 
• Mommy, I’m bored, Ava whined, tugging at Emily’s jeans. 
• Can’t she entertain herself? Linda grumbled. Wait till Lily gets here—you’ll have fun then.

Sarah, Mike, and Lily rolled in two hours late, just as Ava was getting drowsy. Emily fed her daughter and was about to head out when Sarah swept in. 

• Hey, Emily! Sarah beamed. Can you loan me some cash? I’m dying for a spa day at that new place downtown. 
• A spa day? Emily stared, floored. Your husband’s hauling freight to make good money, and you’re asking me—a single mom—for cash? 
• Don’t count our money! Sarah shot back. We’re saving for a cabin by Lake Champlain. What, you want one too? 
• Exactly! Linda jumped in. Mike works hard for that money. You get government checks and still act stingy! 
• Government checks? Emily’s voice shook with anger. You think I’m rich? Ava needs new clothes, boots, a sled, swim lessons. I can’t afford a manicure, let alone a spa day! And neither of you ever watches Ava so I can have a moment to myself!

Grabbing Ava’s hand, Emily stormed out, her face hot with fury. At home, as she tucked Ava into bed, she muttered to herself, They can talk about me all they want. I’m done caring. 

• Are we gonna be rich, Mommy? Ava mumbled, half-asleep. 
• Someday, baby, Emily said, brushing a curl from her daughter’s face. We’ll go on a big adventure, just us. 
• To see Santa? Ava smiled, her eyes fluttering shut. 
• Yep, straight to the North Pole, Emily promised,ientras su corazón se hinchaba.

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He stepped into the conference room, radiating confidence and the anticipation of an easy victory. The large glass doors slid smoothly aside, allowing him and his companion—a slender brunette in an elegant yet slightly provocative dress—to enter. Even before crossing the threshold, Robert Hayes—a well-known millionaire in business circles, owner of a major real estate company—was certain that a smile, a firm handshake or two, and his captivating speech would charm the partners effortlessly.

But everything crumbled in an instant when he saw who was seated at the head of the table. It was his wife. Hayes froze as if he’d slammed into an invisible wall. His jaw dropped involuntarily, and the hand holding the folder of documents trembled slightly. Time seemed to stand still. Right in front of him, dressed in a sharp pantsuit, with impeccable hair and a steady gaze, sat the woman he had honestly been avoiding in high society.

The woman whose humble background had embarrassed him, whose presence he deemed inappropriate in his luxurious lifestyle. The very wife he had once married for love, but whom he later began to distance himself from as soon as his fortune grew substantial. And now, here she was, occupying the leadership position in these crucial negotiations.

• Maryanne? — he whispered, unable to believe his eyes.

She merely raised an eyebrow, looking at him without a hint of embarrassment, displaying complete professional detachment. Beside her sat the people he had expected: partners from the international project, experts, financial analysts. They exchanged glances, not fully grasping what was unfolding. Only a few, including the head of the international corporation «Velara»—a tall, silver-haired man named Gabriel Monten—shared meaningful looks, realizing they were about to witness quite the drama. The brunette whom Robert had brought as his assistant literally felt the tension in the air thicken.

Her name was Melissa. She was a bold, self-assured woman, accustomed to her beauty and charisma opening any doors. But now, facing Maryanne’s direct gaze, she felt uncomfortable. And even a bit guilty. After all, if this was Hayes’ wife, why hadn’t he mentioned a word about her capability to appear at negotiations, let alone as the director?

• Please, everyone, come in and take your seats, — Maryanne said calmly.

Her voice was even and professional, but Robert caught familiar notes of resentment and cold determination in it. The room filled with a quiet murmur. Partners, managers, interpreters—all watched this clash of stares, unsure whether to smile awkwardly or wait for the events to unfold like in a dramatic series. Some anticipated a massive argument with raised voices. Others thought the director and businessman would handle everything maximally formally. However, the silence dragged on. Robert took a deep breath, trying to steady his breathing. His pride and self-assurance—qualities that had always helped seal deals—turned into chills and heat simultaneously. He stepped toward the long mahogany table, circled it, and sat in his place. Melissa settled next to him, projecting her importance with every gesture.

Under her gaze, the glances became even more intense. Some personal assistants and secretaries evidently realized she wasn’t just an assistant and that the situation promised plenty of gossip. Maryanne’s voice rang out like steel:

• Thank you all for coming. First, let me introduce myself: I am Maryanne Hayes. I’ve recently been appointed as the international project director for «Velara,» and accordingly, I’ll be managing the new joint venture for building a network of business centers across the United States. Thank you for being here, ladies and gentlemen.

Robert nearly dropped his pen upon hearing those words. So now Maryanne—the one whose opinion was decisive in his potentially massive deal. Meanwhile, he himself had aimed to take leading positions in this project, counting on colossal profits and expanded influence. But circumstances had ironically turned against him. Just three days ago, he had learned that one of the key investors planned to replace their representative. And it turned out to be his own wife, whom he had considered too ordinary for elite circles.

• Maryanne, — Robert decided to go on the offensive, trying to compose himself, — we have a lot to discuss. I think it’s wiser to get straight to the point to not waste the respected partners’ time.

She ran her fingertips along the edge of the table, giving herself a few seconds to decide on her approach. Once, Maryanne had been quiet, gentle, and incredibly caring. She prepared breakfasts for him, managed the household, volunteered at a children’s shelter. She was expected to be submissive and uncomplaining. But years of patience had passed. And now, before everyone, stood a completely different person—strong, independent, and capable of meeting challenges head-on.

• Of course, — she nodded, averting her gaze from Robert. — We have a detailed plan: development, investments, market entry prospects, technical aspects. Please, take your seats and prepare for the presentation. I’ll be leading the discussion.

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Hey, Mom! Oh, you won’t believe what I have to tell you!

— Emily exclaimed in a joyful voice as she addressed her mother.

— I’ve been dying to share this with you since yesterday. Something absolutely incredible happened to me at the library. I ran into Sarah, that girl I was best friends with back in fifth grade. You have to remember her. Her parents relocated to Paris because her dad got offered a contract job there.

In the end, the whole family settled down permanently in France and built a wonderful life for themselves in their new home. At first, Sarah and I didn’t even recognize each other—after all, so many years had passed. But the moment she mentioned her last name, it was like a switch flipped in my mind, and all those old memories came flooding back.

I instantly recalled exactly who she was. I’m sure you remember her too, Mom. Sarah and I were the ones who accidentally shattered your favorite red glass vase while we were playing hide-and-seek one afternoon.

You know, the one you cherished so much? We were terrified of how you’d react, so we hesitated for ages before confessing. Anyway, Mom, Sarah told me that everything turned out fantastically for them in Paris.

She finished high school, got into college, and now works at a major corporation. We chatted endlessly about our past adventures, our silly pranks, and all those childhood dreams we used to share. It was pure nostalgia, taking me right back to those carefree days.

I couldn’t help but marvel at how life sometimes brings people from our history back into our lives in the most unexpected ways. It felt like I was dipping back into my beautiful childhood, back when you were still here with me. With that thought, she gently straightened the photograph of her beloved mother on the gravestone.

A light breeze had tilted it slightly to the left. She continued her quiet monologue at the cemetery. You know, Mom, Sarah also updated me on her current life.

She’s doing great. She works as a designer and is happily married. She has a husband and two sons, born just a year apart.

They’re adorable boys, ten and eleven years old. She eagerly pulled out her phone to show me their pictures. And get this—she and her family moved back to the States just a year ago.

Alright, Mom, I really should get going now. I’ll hurry off, but I’ll definitely visit you again next Saturday. If I linger any longer, I might miss my train.

Emily suddenly glanced at her watch and realized there were still forty minutes until the train departed. Since the walk to the station took about twenty minutes, she knew she had plenty of time. Before leaving, she took one last look at the headstone to ensure everything was in order.

The grave was neatly tidied, and the photo showed her young mother gazing out with a kind smile. Emily remembered that picture vividly. Her mom had taken it the very year Emily started school.

The photographer who was capturing the first-graders that day also snapped a shot of Emily’s mom. He was so struck by her beauty that he even considered asking her out, but he soon learned she was already married. When Emily was sorting through photos to select one for the headstone, she instinctively chose this one.

The result was stunningly beautiful. The woman checked her watch again and was shocked to see that ten minutes had already slipped by. That meant she was now at risk of missing the train and having to wait a full hour for the next one.

Alarmed, she spun around quickly and hurried along the path toward the gates. But suddenly, she let out a sharp cry of pain and collapsed to the ground in the same instant.

— Lady, are you blind or something? Watch where you’re stepping!

— a man in work overalls grumbled, reeking strongly of alcohol, as he extended a hand to help her up.

Emily looked down at her legs and gasped. Her knees were scraped, smeared with dirt, grass, and blood. She pushed his hand away and limped over to a nearby bench.

Sitting down, she pulled a handkerchief and a bottle of water from her bag. She dampened the cloth first, then carefully began wiping away the grime and blood from her knees. The man watched intently as Emily tended to herself, and once he saw she was managing okay, he returned to his interrupted task.

He was cleaning up an abandoned grave situated close to the path, with a large pile of debris nearby. The grave was in a sorry state—overgrown, with a neglected headstone, no fence, and not a single flower in sight, creating a truly dismal impression.

Every Saturday, Emily visited her mother’s burial site. But she had never noticed this forsaken grave so close by until now. Intrigued, the woman observed the man as he diligently cleared the area around the grave.

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At a quaint little train station in a small Midwestern town in the United States, the platform buzzed with activity from early morning. People hustled about, shouting over one another and dragging heavy suitcases behind them. Amid all this chaos, a particularly lively group stood out, gathered for a special occasion—the send-off of a young man heading off to military service.

Joy and sorrow intertwined in this vibrant moment. A man with an accordion, positioned slightly off to the side, played an upbeat tune with enthusiasm, drawing everyone’s attention. Some sang along, others danced lightly, and a few wiped away tears, unable to conceal their emotions.

All eyes were drawn like magnets to the central figure of the event—a handsome young man named Kyle. Tall and sturdy, with a backpack slung over one shoulder, he stood in the middle of the crowd. His face lit up with a faint smile, but his eyes revealed an inner tension.

He fielded countless questions, nodding to words coming at him from every direction, and handed out assurances to calm the group. Yet, despite all the focus on the proceedings, he seemed unwilling to let go of a slender, delicate young woman. She clung tightly to his chest, quietly sobbing and hiding her face from everyone.

Their figures, merged in this farewell embrace, created a unique atmosphere that evoked warm smiles from some and a bittersweet pang of separation from others. Kyle and Kelsey had grown up on the same street. He often helped her with homework, protected her from the neighborhood kids, and she brought him missed assignments when he was sick.

Their friendship was as constant as the changing seasons. Even when romantic feelings began to blossom between them, they took care not to disrupt the tender harmony they had built over the years. With his other hand, the young man supported a middle-aged woman who, despite her outward resilience, couldn’t hide the tears streaming down her cheeks.

Beside her stood another man, who occasionally patted the young man on the shoulder in a gesture of support. The father, mother, and girlfriend of the future soldier wished desperately that this moment could last forever. But then, the long whistle of the train echoed through the air.

The group suddenly fell silent, and the accordion’s notes ceased. Everyone turned their attention to the approaching train, anxiously counting the cars.

• There it is!

someone from the group shouted.

• Our car’s pulling up right in front of us!

The car did indeed stop directly opposite their gathering. In that instant, relatives and friends rushed forward to hug, kiss, and offer last words of advice to the young man.

• Serve honorably, son!

the father said firmly, though his voice trembled betrayingly.

The mother, overwhelmed by emotions, burst into tears again and pulled her son close, while on the other side, the young woman pressed against him, gently wrapping her arms around him.

• That’s enough, my dears!

the young man said, his voice slightly shaky from nerves. But he tried to stay composed.

• Mom! Kelsey! Everything will be fine, I promise! I have to go now!

he said resolutely, kissing his mother and girlfriend goodbye. Then, waving to everyone, he stepped decisively into the train car. As the train slowly began to move, the entire send-off party waved vigorously, as if hoping the gesture could delay the parting.

The young man, standing at the window, waved back until their figures faded into the distance. The train picked up speed and, after a prolonged whistle, pulled the cars toward unknown horizons. Kelsey, that very young woman, stood rooted to the spot for a long time, her gaze fixed on the vanishing train.

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«Emma, enough with the mirror already!» Sarah called out sharply from the doorway of her daughter’s bedroom in their modest home in Willow Creek, a sleepy town in rural Ohio. «How about helping me out instead of primping for hours? You know I’m swamped with chores that nobody else seems to care about.» – «Give me a break, Mom,» Emma shot back lazily, her eyes glued to her reflection as she adjusted her mascara. «You kept the family together, kept this house standing. What more do you want?»

Emma’s sarcastic tone barely fazed her. At eighteen, she was restless, dreaming of a life far beyond the weathered front porches creaking under summer heat and endless cornfields of Willow Creek. The air buzzed with cicadas, and the faint smell of diner coffee lingered from Main Street. This small town felt like a cage. She craved excitement—city lights, new faces, a chance to be someone bigger than the girl next door.

Sarah, on the other hand, took pride in her role as the backbone of their home. She’d built a life with her husband, Tom, embracing the traditional values of their tight-knit community. By local standards, Sarah wasn’t a knockout—tall and wiry, with sharp features and none of the curves that could win the county fair’s pageant. Her grandmother, a no-nonsense woman named Betty, used to say, “Sarah, with your looks, you’ll be lucky to find a husband. Men around here want women with some meat on their bones.” In a bigger city, Sarah’s slim frame and pale skin might’ve been called elegant, but in Willow Creek, she felt like an outsider. Growing up, she’d envied her friends who flaunted engagement rings and planned big weddings at the community center, while she sat home, dateless, fearing she’d end up alone.

That all changed when she met Tom. He was the son of Linda, a woman with a bold personality and a reputation that raised eyebrows. Linda had been the talk of the town in her youth—stunning, flirty, and always chasing the next big thing. She’d tried to make it in Chicago years ago but came back to Willow Creek after her dreams fizzled. Her return stirred whispers; folks called her a homewrecker, claiming she still turned heads, even among married men.

The townsfolk kept their distance, wary of Linda’s charm. She, in turn, didn’t hide her disdain for Sarah, calling her plain and boring. At family dinners, Linda would lean toward Tom and say, “You could’ve done better than this wallflower who shops at Goodwill and knits like my grandma.”

Sarah bit her tongue, swallowing the sting of those words. Tom, though, stood firm. “This is my life, Mom. Stay out of it,” he’d snap, brushing off her jabs.

But Linda never let up, mocking everything from Sarah’s thrift-store dresses to her quiet hobbies like knitting. The tension between them simmered, threatening to boil over.

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This story happened in our neck of the woods a few years back, and it made headlines all across the country. I wouldn’t say it was all positive buzz, but it sure gives you something to chew on. Are we really labeling the right creatures as animals? And is just walking upright and talking enough to call yourself human? It all went down in early spring, when farmers gear up to till the fields for planting season.

Out in the heartland of Iowa, tractor operators were hitting the dirt after a brutal winter, harrowing the soil to aerate it and get it ready for fertilizer. That’s where Jack comes in—a sturdy, middle-aged guy who’d spent his whole life in the countryside, raising a big family. He was out there on his trusty John Deere, just like everyone else. With a practiced hand, he hitched up the harrow to the back and headed out to the fields. He got assigned the edge plot, right up against the woods. «Sweet,» Jack thought, «less folks around, more fresh air to breathe.»

Jack had never been much of a people person since he was a kid; he preferred his own company and the quiet of the open land. It was only at home, with his wife and their two daughters—one in middle school, the other a toddler son—where he really let loose. Playing games with the kids, he’d lose track of time, laughing like crazy and coming up with wild new adventures together. Sometimes, he’d chase them around the yard pretending to be a monster, or build forts out of old blankets in the living room, their giggles filling the house with pure joy.

His wife would sometimes get a bit jealous, teasing him,

• «Seems like you only light up for them. With me, you’re all distant and cool.»

He’d just pull her close in a silent hug, holding her tight, letting his actions speak louder than words. Once he got to his spot, Jack figured he’d take a quick smoke break before diving in, leaning against the tractor and watching the clouds drift by.

He shut off the engine and stepped out into the crisp air. That early spring freshness hit him hard—the kind you only get when the snow’s just melted, and the ground’s soaked with thaw water, bursting with energy, ready to sprout new life. Birds were chirping in the distance, and the faint smell of damp earth mixed with budding wildflowers. Jack scanned the horizon. «Man, this is the life,» he mused. «What could beat being out here, just you, the soil, the sun, and Mother Nature?» «Nah, I could never wrap my head around those city slickers, crammed in stuffy offices, always rushing and late for everything. Give me wide-open spaces any day.»

That’s what Jack was pondering as he climbed back into the cab and fired up the tractor. He rolled onto the field, lowered the harrow, and was about to throttle up his iron horse when odd noises caught his ear. «What’s that?» he wondered. «Wolves howling? But why now?» He leaned out the open door, straining to listen. «Yeah, sounds like a pack of gray wolves. Weird, especially this time of year.» Shrugging it off, Jack settled back in and hit the gas, revving the engine.

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