literature
Whether written centuries ago or just last year, literary couples show that love is timeless.
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.
By Franklin Kleinholz6 years ago in Humans
Missed 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.
By Robin George6 years ago in Humans
Area 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.
By Midnight Crescent6 years ago in Humans
Monica'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.
By Aria Amanda Kreuz6 years ago in Humans
In 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.
By Rachel R. Carroll6 years ago in Humans
Just 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.
By Erin Western6 years ago in Humans
To 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.
By James Frogge6 years ago in Humans
