Love
One Bus Ride
There she found herself, just like any other work day, riding the bus home. It was packed as always. She found herself lucky enough to have gotten her favorite seat, in the back corner where she could put her feet up on the bar holding up the side seats.
By Tressa Rose3 years ago in Fiction
A Time To Die...
She entered the sterile, brightly lit room in a rush. They'd told her to hurry, time was of the essence. He'd been in a bad way for a few months now, could this be it? He was all she had left in this world and she all he had. Everyone else had either passed away or left. Even his beautiful bride had passed years earlier from a sudden stroke. Ever since then, it had been he and I just chugging through life together. There he lay in that bed he'd laid in for at least a couple of weeks now. The hospital had been shuffling him between home and back there when he got bad again for at least six months. He was so small and so frail. He'd already been of a small stature but now he was even smaller having lost about 50 pounds, pounds he didn't need to lose in the first place. He'd been so strong her whole life but he was tired and she knew he was....heart troubles since the 90's and now with nothing and no one left but her a bout of pneumonia had gotten his lungs down too. He had fought hard but in the end his old lungs just couldn't seem to recover from the pneumonia. Now his whole body was just giving out on him. She looked at his thinning gray hair, the tired wrinkled face, his thin frame all the way down to his thin legs and arms which looked like little more than toothpicks now. His tired brown eyes found her worried brown eyes. He smiled weakly at her. The lights were much too harsh for the situation at hand but she didn't have time to worry with that, she could see he didn't have long left. Each breath was labored and weak. She sank into the chair beside his bed heavily; held his soft, frail hand and laid her head on his bed. No words were needed in this moment, no words would suffice. Not to mention, he'd always been a man of few words. He didn't see the point in mincing words and for that matter neither did she, only speaking what was needed. They had told each other they loved each other sure but it was mostly through actions. Being there for each other and after all, was that not what mattered the most? She lost track of how long she laid like that humming the old hymns she'd heard in church growing up with her grandfather. She could hear the clock ticking, she could see it getting darker outside the window, the beeps of the machines which most had been removed. It was all about comfort now. At some point, her grandfather put his hand on her head and then all of a sudden she heard a deep, rattling breath. She looked and saw the most peaceful look on a person's face she'd ever seen and then she heard the machines flatline, steady beeep, she took her hand and closed his eyes. Rest in peace and fly high... the doctors and nurses then flew through the door so she got up quickly and stepped back so they could do their job. There wasn't much to do however but pronounce him deceased considering there was a do not resuscitate order. They just disconnected the machines, called the funeral home and asked if she wanted more time with him. She said no, she'd had her time but as she turned to leave she could've sworn she saw the brightest glowing light shoot up into the ceiling. She smiled.
By Lindsey Altom3 years ago in Fiction
The Language of Forgiveness
I stood in the small, dimly lit room, my heart pounding in my chest. Across from me, Sarah leaned against the weathered wooden table, her gaze locked onto mine. We had been through so much together, and now, our unspoken conversation was a culmination of years of shared experiences.
By Aaric Nilan3 years ago in Fiction
Moonlit Danger
Fingering the tan parchment, she drew a breath to calm her fluttering heart. She should ignore his missive; pretend she never saw it, never read, never hoped that he would truly feel the same way. She carefully opened the paper and re-read the simple instructions inside.
By Lynda Spargur3 years ago in Fiction
Great novels for beginners
Romance novels are a beloved genre with a wide range of stories that cater to different tastes and preferences. For beginners, it's essential to start with novels that not only entertain but also introduce them to the beauty of romance literature. Here, we will explore some great romance novels that are perfect for those new to the genre.
By adekolujo khadijat3 years ago in Fiction
The Frame. Top Story - October 2023.
Evelyn leant against the wall, an empty hook above her, a frame three feet from her lay on the ground looking a little more tattered than moments before. It contained a photograph from four years prior of herself and her only love, Henry. Her heart was racing, her mind confused - this was the second time the photo had hurled itself backward off its hook. “Are you there, love?” she thought, focusing on trying to bridge the void between the world and the other side. He’d been gone for two years, three months and 17 days now, yet she could still feel his hand in hers, butterflies in her stomach as though it were the first time 61 years ago. “If you’re there, do it again,” she silently dared him. She braced herself as she rehung the picture. Nothing. She sighed and wandered into the kitchen to make herself her 10:00am international roast coffee. Just as she was opening a packet of scotch finger biscuits to have on the side, *THWACK!* the biscuit packet split open wide as Evelyn jumped through the roof. She dared to glance into the living room. Sure enough, the picture frame was in the middle of the room, face up, perfectly centred with Henry’s shining eyes looking directly up at a photo of the two of them together on their wedding day. “What a beautiful day that was, love. The happiest day of my life,” Evelyn urged through the void. With that, the lamp beside the couch flickered. Evelyn’s grandchildren had told her that the morning Henry had passed, they had all experienced varying power failures at their houses. They’d speculated it was Henry’s sign that he was still somewhere in the universe, a play on their surname of “Power.”
By Renessa Norton3 years ago in Fiction
Here at the End of All Things
The world could be ending, and you’d still be dancing around this kitchen. A joke you would tell as I twirled with the dishes lifted above my head to put them back on the shelf or as I tapped my foot and hummed while standing at the stove. And then I would grab your hand and spin you around with me. We would laugh and laugh as we danced in silence.
By Alivia Varvel3 years ago in Fiction
THE FORTHCOMING CALL
It had been sixty years, four months, and ten days and yet Joyce had not laid eyes upon them. Today was the day and as she walked through the autumnal woods, with the warm, hue colours falling, she was terrified. She felt her fingers, cold like blocks of ice, quivering like a tree being vigorously shaken by squirrels. Joyce couldn’t tell if she was frozen or scared for what she may encounter.
By Elizabeth Butler3 years ago in Fiction
