literature
Whether written centuries ago or just last year, literary couples show that love is timeless.
Lasseter'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.
By Craig Cormick6 years ago in Humans
Elegy 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?"
By R. Antonio Matta6 years ago in Humans
Your 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.
By Christine Fox6 years ago in Humans
It 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.
By Firefliflihi6 years ago in Humans
Synchronicity
Part 1: He He waits for sleep to take him. He feels the passing of time. He knows he will see her again. This way, he is honest with his desires. His dreams are doorways into his soul. He feels her. Every night he can hear her voice, press his body into hers, and merge with her. He looks into her eyes and sees himself. He knows she’s out there. He knows she’s real. He doubts himself often, then convinces himself he’s right. His identity is changing. He’s wanting to become someone else. Correction: he wants to become his highest self. He’s never cared for money, but suddenly feels the need to have it, and save it. He’s always loved his parents but doesn’t want to be responsible for them. He’s always allowed himself to be used for his talents and made a career out of other people’s intentions. He’s more than that. He knows there is a chance that he will never meet her, this siren, this goddess who mysteriously knows all of him. He’s never met her, never even once known anyone that resembled her. It’s always her in his dreams. Always. He is restless. He is passionate and angry and sad and longs for something he cannot name. Bigger than affection, bigger than compatibility, deeper than love, stronger than desire, everything unnamed that dwells inside. He wants all of it. Right now. He has always been alone. Even when he is surrounded by people, he has never known anyone to understand his being like she does. This is torture. He is falling in love with a fantasy. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care. He needs her, this is all he knows. Sleep takes him. He sees her. For these hours, he is home.
By Ahlorah Morgan6 years ago in Humans
A Spot by the Sea
On the corner of 10th and Cherry street there stood a mystery that called to me in my youth. Where many eyes would pass with haste, I spotted something in my unhurried curiosity at the young age of eleven. Behind a row of cottonwoods, if one waited for the wind to blow, you could see the narrow peak of a house, and a single circular window. From the first moment I laid eyes upon it, I was fascinated by it. Its mystery beckoned to me.
By Emily Savannah Brake6 years ago in Humans
Someone Who Cares
Earnest rolls out of the left side of his bed. The right side has been blocked off with emotional red tape. He sits hunched over the left edge, digging the drying eye goo deeper into his eye crevices. Snap, crackle, pop and he’s up. He shoves his smartphone into his basketball short’s pocket, before heading over to the kitchen where he will pop the K-cup into the Keurig. The machine whirs to life and Earnest mentally berates himself for contributing to the global environmental crisis.
By Arianna Irwin6 years ago in Humans
Welcome to the Interdimensional Convenience Store
“Sir,” I said. “Sir, you can’t do that.” A large lyrebird, which was currently eating straight from a cereal box two aisles over, looked up. He trained his beady eyes on me and cocked his head to the side. He crushed a piece of cereal with his talons. I flipped to the next page of the fashion magazine I was reading.
By Taylor Larson6 years ago in Humans
A Great Deal Better
"You look so much like her. I think we can pull it off," Arlo insisted. Lydian stared at the weathered black and white photo Arlo found tucked in the back pocket of the notebook he took from their elderly neighbor. The photo was of a young woman with a dark, curly bob and pale eyes reclining on a sofa. Lydian was struck by the way the woman stared at the camera, or rather through the camera, like she was gazing into the eyes of her lover.
By Amy Jokinen6 years ago in Humans
