Mother Of Learning Fictionpress Novels & Stories

I went back to being a bro, the smart one, the classroom perfectionist. I took refuge in my room in my book. If my father had been loving, kind, or comforting, he would have read me my favorite stories every night as my mother had. Instead, he looked at the distraught eight-year-old girl who just lost her mother and asked, “Aren’t you old enough to read by yourself?” to which I nodded and went back to my room, alone. For the very first time, I opened my little blue book, Fairytales for Fairy Princesses. Inside were stories I had never heard of and symbols I’d never seen. Even as a small child, I knew this was something I shouldn’t have, it felt forbidden, and above all, it was a secret. My m

Eleanor Cole. His mother. I picked it up. Read it once. Put it down. Picked it up again. It was short. Four paragraphs. Business formal, which was its own kind of horror — a mother writing to her son in the language of contracts. The relevant paragraph was the third one.

Yvonne noticed the disgust my mother had for me, and a small smile curled her lips. She raised her head and asked in feigned innocence, "What would you do if I was kidnapped, Mom?" My mother put down what she was holding and quickly approached Yvonne. Then, she enunciated solemnly, "I will not let that happen to you. If it does, I will make a portrait of the kidnapper the first chance I get and save you, trust me."

We walked through the estate to a building I hadn't noticed before, covered in climbing ivy. "This was Mother's pride and joy," Silas said, opening the heavy wooden doors. "She collected books from all over the realm." I stepped inside and gasped. The library was massive, three stories tall with books lining every wall. Sunlight streamed through high windows, illuminating dust motes in the air. "It's beautiful," I breathed. "Mother spent every afternoon here," Silas led me deeper inside. "Reading, researching, learning. She believed knowledge was the greatest power."

It's intimidating. "All of this was your mother's?" "Yes. She had the finest collection of books in Freeport and hoped to find more when she ventured across the sea." "I thought sea travel was forbidden?" "It is, but it didn't stop her from dreaming." I brush past him, entering the library, immersing myself in dust and stale paper scents. I peer over my shoulder. "May I?" He flicks his chin, granting me entry into his mother's space. "Was she a scholar?" I ask, approaching a large oak desk littered with notepads and an old computer.

Normally they’d say no, tell me to get lost and chase me away. That day was one of the best days of my young life. When my mother came that afternoon to pick me up, I told her about the game called dolly house. I said I could be anyone I wanted, I chose to be a teacher. She lost her shit, started shouting at me, screaming in one of her crazy rages that I was going to school to learn facts. It was one of the few times I was really scared of my mother. She said imagination was for fools who didn’t taste the flames of hell.

she whispered, playing with her fingers. “That is the silliest excuse I’ve ever heard, Zheira. Those books will not only help you be a good businessman but will also boost your confidence. Look at you, you’ve been concealing yourself with that jacket of yours. Do you think it’s okay? You need to learn everything before it’s too late. I’m warning you, Zheira! If I see you reading any fiction book again, I’ll confiscate your phone!” Zheira stole a glance at her mother’s face and saw a feature quite unlike her own. The thought of being adopted lingered in her mind yet again.

He furrowed his brows, "Why? I thought you said you wanted to read?" "I don't know every word. Just four or five." "Then why do you act like you actually understand?" "I want to make Mommy happy with me." Her eyes shifted to her shoes. "And I want to know all the big words in the dictionary." Iby smiled then he bent down to her level, "Listen Maryam. If you want to know bigger things, you start from smaller ones." He started. "You see all those famous Nigerian authors like Chimamanda Adichie, Lambert Ototo, Chinua Achebe, Wole Soyinka. They all started by learning and understanding the smaller things. Understood?"

Not getting a scholarship wasn't really her fault, After the separation of their parents, her Mom and them had, had less to feed from and they had to starve for many hours of the day. Luckily, Her late Mom was a writer, a good one. She put her talent into action and with the little she gained from selling out her books, she was able to feed themselves and pull the children through highschool. As years went by, Mrs. Mateo, along side with an Author friend of hers, worked together to build a Minor book cooperative Company, But Mrs. Mateo wasn't getting much from there and her book selling was no longer enough to take her children to college.

I explain. My mom let out a chuckle. “Well, I am sure especially after knowing how far you have achieved. I mean, who doesn’t want to be your parents? I’m very proud of you, Honey. You have always loved to write since you were nothing but a little child and now you’re living your dream. I honestly can’t be prouder.” “Stop making my head grow bigger, Mom.” I laugh. “You know I’m not that good. You just say all these wonderful things cos you’re my mom.”