Love
The Last Letter
The letter arrived on a Tuesday, which was strange, because Marcus had been dead for three years. Lena stood at the door of her apartment, the envelope trembling between her fingers. Her name was written in his handwriting — that unmistakable slant, the way he always looped the L like a small wave. She had spent years trying to forget that handwriting. She had burned his notes, deleted his messages, given away the books he had annotated in the margins just to stop herself from reading his thoughts.
By Elarix Dreson4 months ago in Fiction
In Another Life- Chapter 5
It’s been days since her preparation and today’s the day she’ll seek her revenge and attempt to reunite with Marzen. Currently Lissana is sitting down with her mother at their family home's garden. Her younger brother and sister who had not yet debuted into society were playing around. Guards and maids kept an eye on them as they chased after butterflies and rabbits.
By Hazel Rivers4 months ago in Fiction
Sunlit Absence. Top Story - June 2026.
You are pure poetry Your lips taste like the darkest void, a treasonous valley,of which I have lost myself unduly And set to roam its peaks foreverYour skin is the salt of deathYour heart a welcomed restThese words pierce my soulMake me whole, make me yours, Drown me in love, let me be absoluteSame as the sea foam swallows the shoreDo not let me float half-lit in the starry skyI am not your soft excuse or your safe fallFlood my chest and hold me bareMy night is certain, abandoned, without a care, You deliberately sink me into dusk where waters are velvet and air is warm. We are an immersion. We do not crave comfort with other creatures. We demand room for pain and truth. We are perfect, we are standard, we are beautifully and recklessly undone.
By K.H. Obergfoll4 months ago in Fiction
The Wrong Number
It was a quiet evening in the city. Dipak sat near the window of his rented apartment, waiting impatiently for an important parcel that still hadn’t arrived. He had work early the next morning, and the package contained documents he desperately needed for his startup proposal.
By Roshan Chauhan4 months ago in Fiction
The Day Ah Never Went Home. Winner in You Had to Be There.
It wis the summer of 2001 an' Ah wis 21 an' living away frae home for the first time. Ah had met a woman, who would become mah wife, online an' Ah flew frae Glasgow tae London tae see her a couple of times. Ah say Glasgow but Ah actually took flights frae Prestwick Airport, which is about 45 minutes by train ootside o' Glasgow, an' arrived at Stansted Airport, which wis about 45 minutes ootside o' London by train. Frae Liverpool Street Station Ah then travelled, wae the woman who kindly met me, tae Ilford, Essex. It wis the furthest Ah'd ever travelled without mah mum, dad, brother an' sister. It felt like a big deal, even if tae many people it wis just ordinary travel. Ah wisnae a sheltered boy by any stretch an' before Ah had met Ruth, Ah had experienced a lot, but this wis the first major bit o' travelling Ah had done on mah own. The third time Ah visited Ah stayed longer an' then didnae go back. In fact, it is noo 2026 an' Ah still havenae ever gone back home. No really anyway. Ruth wis 33 an' Ah wis 21, so Ah wis like the cat who had got the cream. Ah had nae interest in girls mah own age. Back tae Ilford an' the blossoming relationship between Ruth an' me. As a newcomer tae that neck o' the woods, having only been tae London once when Ah wis very wee, we decided tae go tae Green Park. At that point Ah didnae even know there wis a Green Park. The smallest o' the Royal Parks, it isnae quite as fancy as the bigger names like Hyde or Richmond Park. Still, it is a beautiful 16 hectares o' mature trees an' plenty o' spaces for sitting an' whiling away the hours. Before getting the train frae Ilford tae Liverpool Street an' then tae the side o' the city where Green Park sat, Ruth had done some bargain hunting in a local supermarket. She bought some wee bits an' pieces for a modest picnic. She wis a single parent wae disabilities, an' Ah wis a student. Ah cannae remember whit wis in her bag o' treats aside frae pastrami she had bought under the impression Ah'd had it often due tae mah deeply rooted Italian heritage. Both maternal grandparents were Italian immigrants. Ah had never tried pastrami before. It wis one o' the few cold cut cured meats Ah hadnae. Mainly because it wis more o' an American phenomenon. Whit's no tae love about cooked cured beef slices? Back tae Green Park. Despite it being the smallest, it still felt pretty big. The sun wis brightening things an' shining doon. Though Ah dinnae mind the details, Ah remember that we had a wonderful time just sitting, snacking an' drinking some fizzy juice or bottled water an' people watching. We would look at the other park visitors that day an' take turns imagining whit their life stories were. One gentleman wis on his first date wae his new girlfriend, one couple were in trouble an' trying tae fix their issues, another were trying for a baby. There wis the salesman who wis gearing up tae secure a big contract an' the couple who had been together for 24 years, which is ironically how long Ruth an' Ah will have been married in September. It wisnae a fancy romantic picnic. We didnae dae anything wild or illicit. We didnae even drink any alcohol. We just sat, chatted an' wrote the life stories o' the passersby. It wis one o' mah favourite days frae the early stages o' oor friendship an' relationship. One o' mah favourite days in life in general, though there have been more since. A lot more.
By Paul Stewart4 months ago in Fiction
Here Comes The Sun
It was one of the most inexplicable experiences of Tyler’s life that the most intimate night he had yet to experience involved him lying there, fully clothed, sand ruining a pair of jeans that retailed for a small car payment. She lay next to him, black hair with the hint of a natural curl hanging over exposed shoulders, uncaring that her black Bardot was certainly full of sand, an oddly formal choice to sneak out in that Tyler failed to notice until years after the fact.
By Matthew J. Fromm4 months ago in Fiction
I was adopted...Really!!!
The Day of the Yellow Cup The baby was so tiny, so beautiful, so perfect. Little Nardia had been adopted at six months old - soft‑cheeked, bright‑eyed, a child who fit so naturally into her new parents’ arms that even the nurses whispered, “She was meant for you.”
By Antoni De'Leon4 months ago in Fiction
Meek and submissive. Content Warning.
April has always been the defiant type. She never listened to anyone ever since she was a young teenager. She did what she wanted, whenever she wanted. She never listened to anyone, not even her lovers. She was rebellious.
By Danielle Mosley4 months ago in Fiction
