literature
Whether written centuries ago or just last year, literary couples show that love is timeless.
Little Black Book
Heart pure and mind sharp. Invisible connections to her mum and the sun. She walked on the cusp between worlds. Strange voices haunted her sleep at night. A bright academic. Always top of her class. Seriously studious, for a 5 year old. She would sit in her garden for hours communicating with ancient Egyptians as they danced around the sun in geometric patterns. She knew the trees, each with their own personalities. Energy open, receptive, understanding.
BookWorm
I was never much of a bibliophile, but I’d heard this new store, Bookworm, had a selection for every type of reader. I couldn't remember who had recommended it, only that it sounded enticing. Sheer curiosity, paired with a love of graphic novels and Sci-Fi/Fantasy films lead me directly to my serendipitous find. I am not sure if it was the setting or if this peculiar black book had an actual glow. Two beams of light wedged around it and illuminated the empty space as I removed it from the shelf.
Franklin KleinholzPublished 3 years ago in HumansMissed Connection
On a mid autumn day, I was walking in the river valley. This is easily my favorite season with its kaleidoscopic coloration of trees. I often stop at this little park to sit and meditate. The park really hit that sweet spot of comfort, being sunny and protected from the wind. There was even a bench with my name on it, carved in my delinquent youth.
Robin GeorgePublished 3 years ago in HumansArea 79
At four o’clock they arrived in swarms. Elijah leaned forward in his seat, his eyes fixated straight ahead, as a dull hum vibrated through the air. The sound grew louder as they scattered around the courtyard and Elijah’s spine tensed in readiness. He had to strike quickly. Night came quicker in the north and Area 79 wasn’t the type of place you wanted to get caught after dark. It was a place without decency, free from those who believed in edicts handed down from the skies, where only the criminals and poor survived. Or so Elijah had been told.
Midnight CrescentPublished 3 years ago in HumansMonica's On Main
My boss had always gone above and beyond to inspire and motivate her employees. Recognition and appreciation were never in short supply when Monica was in charge. She single-handedly made sure that every Artist at Peachy Trends knew their worth.
Aria Amanda KreuzPublished 3 years ago in HumansCards Against Urbanity
Bullshit jobs. That’s what the article the other day had called them. “Bullshit Job (n). A job that provides no societal good, and that the person doing it views to be pointless”
Luke TerryPublished 3 years ago in HumansIn The Stillness of Remembering
The first day of the second summer after my dad died, I came in thirteenth place out of fifteen people in a watermelon seed spitting contest. Of the two people who placed behind me, one of them was a five-year-old boy, so that was embarrassing, to say the least.
Rachel R. CarrollPublished 3 years ago in HumansWUTHERING WUTHERING WUTHERING
‘Are you sure I can have it?’ ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I’m sure. Isn’t there a bit at the front where you can see I’ve ripped out the pages?’
The Power
“Katherine?” he says, appalled, cringing into the open doorway of her office. His sweaty face strains to affect civility. So, he really had no idea. She feels a flicker of pity – but mostly, the urge to crush him.
Lindsey KennedyPublished 3 years ago in Humans#Lady Luck
#Lady Luck By Eclipse93 The day I realized my potential, I was eating a SUPER gush-worthy, still hot, freshly grilled cheeseburger with a side a fries, and a green smoothie. But before that…
Diana Alves SantosPublished 3 years ago in HumansJust Feed Sam
From the frosted panes of a dirty bus window stuck shut with ice from a storm the night before, Ms. Vivian Johns sat in the regular meditation of sameness that passed before her every day at this time. No remarkable thoughts surfaced on this early morning, just as they did not on most mornings. She is waiting for the bus to make its way to the center of town, where she hurries the down three quick steps where she steps off and marches nearly straight into the same greasy spoon where she has been a server for the past 17 years.
Erin WesternPublished 3 years ago in HumansTo Paint a Sunset
Gilded and gleeful. The dining room of the pretentious social elite. Daily trudge through the monotony of meaningless interactions. This was the perpetual existence of Eliza Loughnan. Fraudulent interactions of the societally upward with the person that brings them their seventy-six dollar steak. Still, it pays the bills.
James FroggePublished 3 years ago in Humans