literature
Whether written centuries ago or just last year, literary couples show that love is timeless.
Remnants
She sat rigid, clenching the frail handle of the teacup, her other hand wrapped tightly around its base. The large drawing room was full; a fire roared in the great, stone hearth. She lifted her eyes warily and looked around the room. They were all strangers and she felt out of place.
By Dana Murphy6 years ago in Humans
Frugal Findings
No one knew that my grandmother had any sort of money stashed away. She wasn’t one to exactly be ashamed of her frugalness, even knowing that some of the family members taunted her for it. Recounting and recording each expenditure made into the small black notebook she clutched at all times.
By Kelly McLaughlin6 years ago in Humans
Death and Jackets
The text came in just after 9pm. She had been waiting for it, and she knew it probably wasn’t good news. Jessie hadn’t had much good news over the past few years. Her fiancé passed away two years ago unexpectedly. She had been with him over seven years and in that time, Jessie was every bit his wife as Mark was every bit her husband. Except of course for the legal paperwork declaring it as such.
By Jaime Begley6 years ago in Humans
Collecting Dominos
She dragged her fingers slowly over the dark, pebbled leather. Each pore feeling every individual bump and grainy groove. It spoke to her, whispered. She ran her middle finger along the edge, toying with slipping her finger under the cover and flipping it open. The edge, different than the front, was rugged and daring. Almost sharp... dangerous. Her finger dipped slightly underneath the flap then trailed away from the notebook onto the smooth leather seat. Immediately she could tell the satire between the leather bound pages and the plastic “leather” seat she was sitting on. Time stopped as she focused on it. It sucked her in. Thoughts flooded her imagination of what could be inside. Who...could be inside. Who would leave such an important item? Who could leave behind their inner workings inside a taxi cab? This was precious, she knew it. A gift. A definite sign from the universe.
By Lillian Beane6 years ago in Humans
Neutral
Elizabeth’s looks were almost characterless. She was of standard European descent, medium-sized, and solid. Her mind however was of rare design. Initially, she was raised by a secession of nannies. By the age of eight, she had failed to emotionally attach to any of them, or anyone else really. This inability to attach concerned her parents and so Elizabeth’s rearing was transferred from nannies to therapists.
By R. L. Glass6 years ago in Humans
Bristol Condominium
Thursday, November 9, 2017 It’s Thursday night, Friday jr., in college lingo. “What you feel is a choice, what you feel is a choice.” repeating out loud, dismissing the fact that I am about to hyperventilate. I was now behind in two of my classes. On top of that, I've had one of those days where nothing went my way. Everyday seems like having to catch up to it, making me exhausted. I’m staring at my dashboard, but my mind is in a washing machine accompanied by worn out thoughts that are meant to break me. “What you feel is a choice.” is the detergent and my positive reflection why I’m here. The saying “What you feel is a choice.” rinses all the negative thoughts away, replacing them with new gratitude and grit. I retrieved my tears that are sitting at the rim of my eyes, right in time before they begin to fall. My vision is no longer blurry and I notice the mileage on my car is in the same situation as me, reaching my breaking point.
By Miss_cellaneous6 years ago in Humans
On the Bridge
He’s here again- I sense him before he finally steps into view, the top of his face obscured by his ever-present camera. The bottom half, of course, is swathed in his black mask (he wears this particular one every week, so I have come to think of it, He’s here again- I sense him before he finally steps into view, the top of his face obscured by his ever-present camera. The bottom half, of course, is swathed in his black mask (he wears this particular one every week, so I have come to think of it, unimaginatively, as his “midweek mask”). He’s trained his camera on the tallest section of the bridge with its international orange towers and bulky cables that point skyward. The air is brisk, despite the dazzling blue of the sky with its puffy “what animals do you see?” clouds.
By Meigan Carson 6 years ago in Humans
Fate is a Funny Animal
After multiple unsuccessful attempts to flee his country, Jorge hoped his exhaustive attempts to set foot on American soil had ended, allowing him to move into phase two of his plan. Since losing his wife to breast cancer, he had been singularly focused on bringing his young daughter, Delilah, to America where she would have more opportunities with a better chance of surviving the genetic curse that had taken so many women in her mother’s lineage. Jorge was not poor, but had simply not earned enough money to cover his wife’s treatment. After losing his childhood sweetheart, he became laser focused on a trajectory that would change his daughter’s destiny. Having been denied legal channels to American citizenship, he decided his only option was to become an undocumented immigrant, work hard, and earn the right to bring Delilah to America where they could become citizens.
By Karan Joy Almond6 years ago in Humans
Did you hear what happened in Amsterdam?
She had finally made it. It had been seven years and it was all happening at once. There was no going back. She heard a woman’s voice calling from over the sound of her music, “Hoi love, gonna need you to hang up that call.. we’re just about ready go”. She hadn’t been talking on the phone, but she’d started murmuring aloud by accident. “Yes, alright” she replied to the attendant as she stowed away her belongings. This was her first flight since 2091, since the flying ban. She’d made it through the pandemic, and she was finally getting away.
By Malica Seille6 years ago in Humans
Lesson Learned
Ever since I moved to the Bay Area things have not been going as I had anticipated. I imagined myself in an ultra sexy apartment somewhere in the Mission with roommates that were smart, cool and just everything I aspire to be. I don’t know why that mattered when I was looking for a place to live but I’ll be the first to admit that sometimes I don’t have my priorities straight. I guess I saw other friends who had made this leap of faith and I was inspired to try on a new life too, I thought it would be the same for me but situation after situation I’m starting to feel like maybe I made the wrong choice. One thing is certain, San Francisco is not making it easy for me but I refuse to go back to the Bronx with my tail between my legs, to a mother that’ll be thrilled to say ‘I told you so.’ The idea of accepting defeat is not in my DNA, I’m not built for admitting when I’m wrong so I choose to stay here, where I feel lost but at least I can wallow alone. Here, no one knows me and I’ll just have to fake it until I make it, I guess, if that's even a thing.
By Crystal Adorno6 years ago in Humans
