literature
Whether written centuries ago or just last year, literary couples show that love is timeless.
Eloise.
As I inhaled the morning's cool crisp air through my nose, the rise and fall of my chest made my anxieties fall back to the hidden chambers within my deepest self. "Just hit send, Eloise..." I sighed heavily. My fingers crippled up and my heart nearly stopped when at once I slammed my laptop shut without hitting send. Another story not submitted. Another tale not good enough to be told. This was something I had been used to for years, for I was my own worst critic. As I stretched out across my bed reaching in the top drawer of my hopelessly broken side table I pulled out an unlit cigarette. "You promised to quit, young lady.." I murmured repeating my now deceased grandmother, Nona. I struck a match I found mixed within the random nothings atop of my wooden deathtrap; and I lit the end of it knowing very damn well regardless of how she felt about the tobacco death wish she would have more likely joined me for our very first smoke of the day. The first drag has always been crap since she passed. Always. I tried to find words to make myself feel better about this morning's failures but without her I thought the way that I always have since she passed; a way that became second nature so I could survive the pain without her, mindlessly.
By Kimberly Jimenez6 years ago in Humans
The Performance
The day her grandmother was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, Judith lost her journal. It was a black notebook with a soft cover and ivory-colored pages. After searching everywhere – her grandmother’s house, the practice room at school, and the cashier counter at the restaurant where she worked part time – Judith eventually accepted that the notebook was lost. When she told her grandmother, she saw a smile on her grandmother’s face: “Don’t worry, Jude. I will get you another one.”
By Jessica Zong6 years ago in Humans
Little miss Ava girl
"Well well well, would you look what we have here" Ava stated as she walked out of her 5th ave penthouse apt. Head high, heels even higher, today was going to be a good day, she just knew it . The sun was shining and her thrifted Versace shades made her feel like the Notorious BIG as she strutted out of the door and headed to the job interview of her life. Ava was the type of girl to keep herself dressed to impress and dipped in the latest threads at all times, but she had this gift of being able to do it for little to no money. The thrifty type of chic. The kind where she'd buy a vintage Chanel blazer with a moth ball oder and a fugly coffee stain on it that had been sitting on a manequin collecting dust for weeks. Take it back home and make it not only look like the latest collection, but make every other trendy girl walking down 5th want to know where she got it from and how they could get their hands on one. Meanwhile it cost less then $10 and Ava really could care less about the name adorned on the tag. She just had it like that. Her walk , her talk , the way she swung her hair when the wind blew, there was just something about this girl that even she was not fully aware of. Little Miss Ava as her mom called her was precisely the most underrated and overlooked senior in the class and life never handed her lemons , only lemonade and she loved it . She never let it get to her head but she definitely basked in it just enough to make sure that she always got her way in life. Young, smart and full of ambition she never forgot to chase her dreams. After all she was an unemployed senior in college and lived in a penthouse suit on 5th avenue for pete's sake. The girl knew how to hustle and she surely knew how to make ends meet in the most unexpected of ways. Avas parents were both deceased so after all she really didn't have a choice or much of a support system for that matter. Ava girl had dreams, she had goals and she most definitely had ambition.
By Alexis Jasmin6 years ago in Humans
Pario
The soft click of my laptop closing punctuated my thoughts. My work day had bled into a work night, and I was glad for it to be finished. I placed the computer on the coffee table, and started my nightly routine of checking the doors and turning off the lights on my way to an oblivious dreamland. My steps wove around the cats, who had rustled on my departure from the couch and started a rambling round of hide-and-seek. A brush of fur caught my leg as they ran by, and I flicked off the lights in the kitchen, grabbed the bundle of socks I had thrown down the hallway earlier, and double-checked the bathroom was already dark.
By Olivia Channon6 years ago in Humans
The Little Black Book
I was on my way home, or my place of living at that current moment. I was sharing a flat with three roommates in New York City, this was my fourth apartment since coming here from my hometown, Kalamazoo, Michigan. Everyone told me I was crazy to move out here alone and that I would never make it big in the journalism industry without a degree. But here I was, bar tending in any place that would take me. Which meant taking the subway, constantly.
By Michelle Schultz6 years ago in Humans
The Power in What is Written
He could feel his heart racing as he stared at the strange words on the page. There could be no doubt that it was his own distinctive handwriting, especially since he had just written it with his own hand. He stared at those words for some time, trying in vain to explain how they could have gotten there by some other means. Could the little black notebook have had someone else's writing in it already, and he had simply failed to notice? No, he remembered the first page being blank before he put his pen to it.
By Jonathan Lee Witt6 years ago in Humans
Elodie’s Daydream
Elodie daydreamed of the moon. A wispy, blonde little girl the age of 12 with grand dreams and even more elaborate daydreams. She told Alice that she knew one day she would launch into space and float around like a tiny feather that jumps out of your comforter when you jump into bed and your mother kisses your forehead goodnight after the nightly narration of your favorite homemade saga “2B the surf-mat.”
By Geonelle Rose6 years ago in Humans
What Goes Around
Adam sat hunched over his desk, watching a paper plate spin around the pencil he’d poked through the center. The rim of the plate was marked with thirty-eight squares colored red, black, or green. The plate stopped spinning, and Adam muttered something to himself before jotting a few notes down on his scrap paper.
By Jason Barlow6 years ago in Humans
Elodie’s Daydream
Elodie daydreamed of the moon. A wispy, blonde little girl the age of 12 with grand dreams and even more elaborate daydreams. She told Alice that she knew one day she would launch into space and float around like a tiny feather that jumps out of your comforter when you jump into bed and your mother kisses your forehead goodnight after the nightly narration of your favorite homemade saga “2B the surf-mat.”
By Geonelle Rose6 years ago in Humans
