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Vintage content about families throughout history; all about ancient ancestors, heirlooms, royal families and beyond.
Estate Sale
The Chateau de Chambord A castle located in the Loire Valley of Loir-et-Cher (France) was built between 1519 and 1547 CE. The French Renaissance building—impressive in both size and architectural detail, was commissioned by Francis I of France to function as a hunting lodge. This is where the king and his entourage could pursue the abundant game in the surrounding forest. The chateau has several innovative design features which proved influential on other French monumental buildings in the 16th century CE. A company called UNESCO is looking to list Chateau de Chambord as a World Heritage Site. Before this can happen, the castle is scheduled to host its first (ever) estate sell of portraits, paintings and anything that can be carried out by hand.
By R. L. LASTER3 years ago in Families
Secrets from the Porch
Collins knew that Pops left each grandchild a box with items he kept for each one of them to be opened after his death. He found his underneath his grandparents’ with the others and walked to the front porch and sat. The sound of the screen door slamming or the chipped paint on the porch rails didn’t bother him today. Today they brought him peace and if felt like there was still life in the empty house. Pops could have lived anywhere but his neighbors were "his people" and he wouldn't leave them. "I have your favorites here" he heard as he stretched himself over the porch steps. Leslie walked quickly towards him. "It does me good to see you here" she said handing him a paper lunch bag. "I can't believe they are both gone now. Things aren't going to be the same." Collins knew that both his grandparents' passing was devastating to her. She sat next to him holding her head in her hands. "I keep telling myself it'll get easier but when? It was hard when Gloria died but now its final that they're both gone." "I don't know" was all he knew to say. "I don't know. I wish I did." It had only been a month since Pops passed but it seemed like yesterday. They both knew it would take some time. The sound of Collins opening the paper bag broke the cloudy silence. "You always know how to brighten my day" he said as he pulled out a fried bologna and onion sandwich wrapped in waxed paper. Leslie always added mustard and bacon just for him. He set aside the can of soda on the porch behind him. "I'll keep making them as long as you keep coming back" she playfully jabbed him with her elbow driving home her point. She had been making them for him since he was very young. "I guess I'll keep coming back then." His response brought a look of relief and she heard what she needed to. "Don't leave without saying goodbye now. You know you were his favorite."
By Lisa Benoit3 years ago in Families
The Ghosts of Fabbriche di Careggine
Jessa was raised by ghosts. Her great grandfather, Gino Della Nebbia, and his great grandfather, and grandfathers back to the 1200's, had formed a long line of callous-fingered iron workers, farmers, and quarrymen in the Tuscan village of Fabbriche di Careggine.
By Beth Jones3 years ago in Families
Henry's House
December 12th, 1945, Liverpool. - Whoever waits for me here must think me dead, with it being so many months past the war. And perhaps it is better off left as such. I don’t think I’m scared of the answers that are hidden here in England. But I don’t believe in choosing wishful thinking over the promise of a good life with a good woman.
By Lucy Perrin3 years ago in Families
Notes from a Spectre
Regina may have always been searching for something but never as often as in her new apartment. The first floor of a three story townhouse in Savannah was a big score for her. For the last year she’d been enjoying her job as an assistant and caretaker for a surprisingly self sufficient 93 year old. Her employer, Marie, was a widow and a renown antiques expert in French artifacts and pottery. Marie’s daughter, Pauline, had offered Regina the chance to rent this apartment in one of their family’s properties at a steal. She had been refered to Pauline from her manager at the nursing home that had been her first job. The whole family was very nice and Marie was as sharp as a tack even if her body wasn’t keeping up. She occasionally acted as a consultant for museums and antique dealers all over the world, she had even consulted for a popular antiques show.
By Allison Holub3 years ago in Families
The Gift
A childhood home should be a happy place. But as Margaret walked into hers, she could hear the silence haunting the walls and feel the air tense at her arrival. She would have preferred not to come back here, but it had been her mother’s last request — in her last days she had ranted endlessly about what a good man her father had been, and that he had taken care of them — which Margaret had taken to mean there was money in the house.
By Jenny Morris3 years ago in Families
Little Black Book
I was tucked in a corner of my attic, enjoying myself. I’d found a box of my mom’s, filled with notebooks of every shape, size and color. The one with flowers had recipes, like the one for my grandmother’s tamales. The yellow one, poems; the green one was one of six journals. Some had short stories, including my mom’s favorite genre; mysteries.
By Francesca Bozem3 years ago in Families
Lost and Found
I’m tired of mysteries, of feeling like I am all alone in this world. It’s cold in Pennsylvania. The wind blows, sending sleet across the dark blue sky. I desperately huddle by the fire to warm my bones. I hear my aunt plagued with consumption. My home and everything I know shall soon be lost. We can not afford a lot of food and our funds are diminishing. I fear I have become the greatest burden in her life. My schooling seemed wasted on me, the numbers all look strange upon the blackboard and I can not make any sense of them. The kindness she exhibits can not be repaid.
By Melody Golden3 years ago in Families
Mystery of 1944
Mystery of 1944 As I walked eerily down the dark streets of Manhattan with the rain gushing down, I stepped on something firm. Ordinarily I would just keep walking but for some unknown reason I bent down and picked up the mysterious item. It was a soaked little black book. To say I was intrigued is an understatement. I resumed my ten block walk home with the book clenched in my hand the whole time.
By Sadie Colucci3 years ago in Families
A 60's Tale
A 60’s Tale 1962, Friday, 2:15 pm. Barbara sits in her car, her long dark hair hangs limp in front of her face. She stares out the window at nothing as she replays that last forty five minutes in her heard. She walked into her estranged husband’s offices, as she walked through the beige, dim lit corridors towards his office she noticed the sympathetic looks from the secretaries, even other business men. How could they know? Did they really know who Stanley is? She reached his office. Time seemed to warped and grow foggy. The words “keep the damn house, do what you want with it, sell it. But don’t contact me again” ring and blast through her ears. A traffic warden taps on the hood of her car, bringing her back from her thoughts. She begins the slow drive home. In her rearview mirror she looks at her son and daughter’s clutter on the backseat, wrappers from rhubarb and custards litter the floor and sandy footprints line the interior. Barbara smiles to herself thinking the freedom they must feel, her smile fades when she thinks of them for too long.
By Charlotte Gould3 years ago in Families