Love
Just Another Trip
ONE Waking up beside him feels like the beach at sunset. I stare at the lines of his face, so peaceful as he slumbers. His chest rises up and down like the waves climbing the beach and then receding. My heart double beats as my eyes find his parted lips and I kiss him softly.
By David Brandy2 years ago in Fiction
Remnants
The bed I woke up in is foreign to me. It is large and quite beautiful, white and clean and I can hear voices in the distance as I attempt to get my bearings. I lift my head off the pillow and I feel groggy, my neck stiff. I push back the light duvet cover and swing my bare feet onto the soft, cream colored carpet and sit up.
By Nicole Deviney2 years ago in Fiction
Wet Feet…
The cruise ship roared and rumbled like some giant best ready to consume us all. I took one final look at land, and then watched the waves carry us away. As the ship left port the strange realization that nothing would ever be the same hit me like a hurricane tearing a tree from its roots.
By Kenneth cruz2 years ago in Fiction
Overboard. Runner-up in Overboard Challenge.
Her hair smelled of the sea. A salty haze of an ocean ecosystem and an island breeze filled his nostrils, with every kiss he placed upon her neck. That was one of the things he loved most about her - she was totally at one with nature, unlike any woman he had ever been blessed to know. She seemed so present with him compared to the Europeans and fellow travelers he had crossed paths with in his time. There was a lack of "proper" civility in her that captivated him, knowing she didn't care for the shallow pleasantries of his modern world. He wasn't exactly the most civil of sailors himself, but she was wild, and unexplored. It reignited the adventurous spirit within that had already driven him so far across the globe. She was the compass that guided his joy. Like the primordial sea creatures in the darkest depths of the ocean's abyss, their love glowed in the moonlit night, secret and transcendent.
By Mama Magdalene2 years ago in Fiction
Love in the Jazz Age
Peter Gower stood on the deck of the Freyja and watched Mary Wollstone step out of a bright red, convertible motor car. She was even more beautiful than the day she rejected his last marriage proposal. He was no expert on the affairs of the heart. But after six failed attempts to win Mary’s hand, it dawned on this slow thinker that his future may not include a union with his heart’s desire.
By Pitt Griffin2 years ago in Fiction
Simon Says
Simon was only four years old when his mama had to explain that his daddy had gone to heaven. Confused, he smiled up at her and said, "WOW, daddy always said if we were good, we would go to heaven one day. He must have been really good, right mama?" His mama ran out of the room crying.
By Kelli Sheckler-Amsden2 years ago in Fiction
