Author: Kathy Duong
A Complicated Beginning My name is Dylan, and my life has never been simple. My mom, Jessica, had me when she was barely more than a teenager. My father, Greg, wasn’t much older. They tried to make things work for a short while, or at least that’s what I was told. But whatever fragile thread held them together wasn’t strong enough. Not through a pregnancy. And definitely not through me. When I was born, my father rushed to the hospital believing he was about to begin a new life — meeting his son and starting a family with the woman…
The Call at 11:47 p.m. My phone rang at 11:47 p.m. At sixty-four years old, late-night phone calls carry a certain kind of weight. They rarely bring good news. More often, they carry the kind of silence that settles deep into your bones long after the call ends. For a moment, I just stared at the glowing screen on my bedside table. Lily. My granddaughter had never called me that late before. Even before I picked up, my heart had already begun to pound. “Lily?” I answered quickly. Her voice came through the phone thin… shaky… almost like she had…
The Pen That Felt Like a Sentence The Montblanc pen felt far heavier than it should have in Isabella Reyes’ hand. Not because it was crafted with gold and lacquer. But because it felt like a sentence being passed. The formal living room of the Castellano estate was quiet in the way courtrooms are quiet—thick, tense, and watchful, as if everyone was waiting for a verdict already decided. Late afternoon sunlight streamed through the tall windows and stretched across the polished mahogany table. At the center of it sat a thick stack of papers. Thirty-seven pages. Three years of marriage.…
The Storm That Wouldn’t Stop The storm had been building all afternoon. Dark clouds rolled low across the open fields while powerful winds pushed sheets of rain over the pastures. By evening, the small creek behind the barn had already spilled over its banks, creeping slowly toward the buildings. Amanda had lived on this land long enough to see floods before. But something about this one felt different. More aggressive. More relentless. By the time she pulled on her boots and ran toward the barn, the water had already reached the lower steps. Cold brown floodwater rushed across the yard,…
The rain wasn’t just water that afternoon; it was a heavy, gray curtain that seemed intent on erasing the world. Teresa walked along a dirt road, forgotten by God, where the mud swallowed her footsteps and the wind cut like a knife. She wasn’t walking toward a destination, but fleeing a recent past that had left her raw and exposed. In her arms, wrapped in a threadbare blanket that no longer provided warmth, she carried her little Andrés, barely a year old. The child didn’t cry; perhaps the cold had lulled him to sleep, or perhaps, in his innocence, he…
The Empty Parking Lot The strip mall parking lot was nearly deserted when Officer Greg Martinez turned his patrol car into the back entrance. It was late. Most of the stores had closed hours ago, leaving the long row of buildings dark and silent. Only a few tired streetlights buzzed overhead, casting pale yellow circles across the rain-soaked pavement. Rain had been falling steadily all evening, forming shallow puddles across the cracked asphalt. Greg had driven this route hundreds of times during late patrol. Usually, the only things waiting back here were abandoned shopping carts, overstuffed trash bags, or the…
The Homecoming When I stepped off the plane at Denver International Airport, the cold hit me immediately. After nine months overseas, even the dry Colorado winter felt sharp against my skin. The mountains beyond the runway stretched like dark silhouettes under a steel-gray sky, and a thin layer of snow clung to the edges of the tarmac. But honestly, none of that mattered. All I could think about was Sophie. My eight-year-old daughter had a tradition every time I came home from deployment. The moment she saw me, she’d sprint across the room like a tiny missile and launch herself…
The Night the Hospital Doors Exploded The doors of St. Mercy Hospital didn’t simply open that night. They exploded inward. The heavy glass panels slammed against their metal tracks with such force that the entire entrance rattled. A volunteer at the information desk jumped, her clipboard clattering to the floor as papers scattered everywhere. Conversations in the waiting room stopped mid-sentence. Every head turned. Most people who rushed into emergency rooms carried fear. But the man who burst through those doors carried something different. He carried a performance. A Husband in Panic “My wife! She—she fell down the stairs!” the…
The Unusual Name One day, an old Native American man was asked a simple question. “What is your wife’s name?” The old man paused for a moment, then replied calmly, “Her name is Three Horse.” The person asking looked surprised. “Three Horse?” he repeated. “That’s quite an unusual name for a wife. What does it mean?” The old man sighed deeply, shook his head slowly, and said, “It’s an old tribal name.” Then he added with a tired smile: “It means… Nag. Nag. Nag.” 😄
The Phone Call That Left Me Speechless One evening, my phone rang. The caller ID showed my ex-husband’s name. We rarely spoke unless it was about our son, so I picked up expecting something routine. Instead, what he said next left me completely speechless. “I really need four months off from child support,” he said casually. There was a pause. Then he added the reason. “My wife insists we take our daughter to Disney. I need time to save for the trip.” For a moment, I honestly thought I had misheard him. A Vacation… or Our Son’s Needs? I sat…