literature
Whether written centuries ago or just last year, literary couples show that love is timeless.
Anything but Ordinary
Mary Dobson was sure she was the most ordinary girl in the world. She knew somehow this was a great disappointment to her wild hippie mother, Starfire. As if her mother felt that allowing her father to name her something as plain as Mary had condemned her to a life of absolute banality. Mary understood. Her spontaneous, renegade mother fell for her sweet, stable father who provided security and gentle love. Her father loved the creative, wiley woman who added spice to his routine with her hilarity and drama. Even so, Mary knew her mother looked for more in her - some of that Starfire passion or spark.
Celine De ClercqPublished 3 years ago in HumansThawed
The snowy blur formed a mist around her eyes. She couldn't breathe. She wanted to scream, but her throat was parched from the dry coldness. She knew she needed to run, but she kept looking back. The wind was sharper than ice-daggers. Any moment now, she would collapse and perhaps never wake again---
Adrija BhattacharyaPublished 3 years ago in HumansNot worth it
“We won!” he said, beaming from ear to ear. I nodded in response. He was proud of his accomplishment. For him, settling this case was unprecedented, a note of celebrity, a chance for fame and more business. For me, the win was empty.
More Real Than UPublished 3 years ago in HumansSomething Familiar
The iron gray sky threatened rain on the city below. The city’s long steel and concrete fingers reached upward as if ready to embrace the wetness and dance in the winds of the approaching storm. Thunder rumbled in the distance. It was a sort of soothing rumble, not loud, but he could feel it in his feet, its deep vibration was as if the earth were shaking from fear. The wind was stronger this high in the air, pushing against him with invisible force in the opposite direction of the one he wanted to be pushed in. He knows he must do it; he just cannot seem to tilt forward the extra inch it would take to end this harrowing life he so, carelessly thrusted himself into. A little money on this sports game, a little on the next one, and the next one and the next until he is all ‘littled’ out. That’s where he should stop, right? When he has bet all his family’s hard-earned fortune a bit at a time. Take the loss and move on. Sure, it would be tough, but he could do it. No. this is where he knows, he is absolutely, one-hundred-percent sure that he can win all that fortune back on just one game. Then, he would quit. So, he finds somebody to loan him the money, but not just anybody, no, it had to be easy, untraceable. He gets a recommendation, follows it, and meets his future debtor. Sure, the guy looks like he means business, but he is an all-right dude. He makes the whole deal easy and with simple terms. Pay the money back with a, flat, ten-percent interest rate or face the consequences. ‘I don’t like confrontation, my friend,” the man told him in his heavy New York accent, “but I’m not afraid of it either.” With that statement, he would walk away, heavy briefcase in hand, wondering if this was a good idea. He would find out, soon, that it was not. Almost nineteen thousand dollars, gone in one week. Not one penny to show for it. So, he then, finds himself nearly on top of the tallest building in the city. Trying to talk his way out of something he knows he must go through with. He cannot run, they will find him, they will always find him. His next weighted decision is death by suicide or death by ‘consequences’. He does not know what consequences meant in this instance, but he has watched enough movies to know that it probably is not the desired outcome. Now, here he stands, listening to the city below move like nothing has happened, the smell of coming rain pulled through him with every inhale. Wiping the sweat from his palms, he runs his hands across his jacket; somethings there, in his pocket. He pulls out a small black notebook held shut by a black elastic band. Did someone slip it into his pocket? He does not recall being handed a notebook. Confused, he pulls the cover open to reveal a mostly blank first page. MOLESKINE is written in capital letters at the bottom. He flips to the next page. Written in a messy scrawl, in all capital letters are the words, PLEASE DON’T DO IT! YOUR DEBT IS PAID. Could this be true? He thinks. Or is it a trick?
Frank GaineyPublished 3 years ago in HumansSubtext of a Life
Patricia Lewis is a close friend of isolation. In fact, they go way back. Most would assume the friendship was forged by Patricia herself, considering her occupation and single status, but that wasn’t exactly true. When she was a little girl, she was as sociable as any child. She spent summer days with the kids around the neighborhood. They played jacks, marbles, statues, you name it, she played it. Even when Jimmy Turner, who lived next door, got a pair of boxing gloves for Christmas, she was the first (and only) girl eager to tussle. They each could only wear one glove and since they were Jimmy’s, he got the right mitt. But Pat, who was also right-handed, still gave Jimmy a run for his money with her left hook.
Ryan DoylePublished 3 years ago in HumansWar No More
Encapsulated Michael is a 19-yr-old college student. He’s a jovial virgin with more integrity than most young men his age. Although he has already met a couple new friends in class, he and his family are new to the neighborhood. He arrives home—just in time to witness a clock on the wall tick ‘five-eighteen’. Though the home is only semi-furnished, everything is in order. This allows a hand-written note on the counter to be noticeable as it seems to be begging for investigation. Michael begins reading.
R. L. LASTERPublished 3 years ago in HumansThe Hidden Treasure
Slowly walking down the dimly lit hallway, this place seemed so familiar, yet so foreign to Jack. This place that used to be home, was now just another house. This place that used to be filled with love and laughter, tears and pain, and all the emotions in between, was now nothing more than a memory of a past that never was, and never will be again.
Daniel RoddinPublished 3 years ago in HumansLasseter's Last Dream
Harry Lasseter lies against the rock wall and watches the desert sun set over his empire. He's the richest man in the world. But he's stuffed, and he knows it. Long black shadows stretch across the landscape. He watches them carefully. Sees them creep across the desert floor towards his little cranny in the rock face.
Craig CormickPublished 3 years ago in HumansElegy of a Serendipitous Demise
“Rico, it won’t be the same here without you,” Shawn says in a grievous tone. Rico’s colleague started working at the Manhattan company along with him eight faithful years ago. "I can't believe they are letting you go. It's disgraceful. Where's the loyalty?"
R. Antonio MattaPublished 3 years ago in HumansYour Name Here
In Which The Book Comes Home With Sue “How much did you pay for this one?” Mitch held the book out, away from his body, fingers barely gripping the cover. Sue looked over to see a small, black, leatherbound book dangling precariously over the dogs’ feeding trough where Mitch had been standing when she walked into the kitchen. She had been to the library book sale that morning, and, as usual, had hauled home several boxes of treasures. Boxes of books and more books to be added to her already overflowing bookshelves. Her dedication to the collection of books was admirable.
Christine FoxPublished 3 years ago in HumansIt Was Meant to Be
We used to come here together, every Sunday after art class. Leaving the swirls of oil on canvas and paintbrushes in linseed oil , I would forget about the beautiful women he painted. Women standing in fields of flowers or kneeling by sparkling springs. Feeling slighted by them he’d reminded me that they were figments of his imagination and nothing to be jealous of.
FirefliflihiPublished 3 years ago in HumansPlay It Forward
“Candy gram for June Bug! Candy Gram for June Bug!” Seer Corbett growls as the doorbell rings. Bassist June Cynthari sighs thumbing through the bills. “Candy Gram?!?” She pauses as Seer repeats himself. “I hate candy.” What is he up to now?