literature
Whether written centuries ago or just last year, literary couples show that love is timeless.
Vice Prices
Slothfulness Zoe, at 27, decided her adulting score required a "restart". Crossing her chocolate-dipped legs, she tugs down the denim over her widen hips. Maybe not the best attire for travel wear, Zoe thought to herself. She gave away southern smiles sitting at the GBI Airport, acknowledging the few glances that landed before the planes.
By StoryBookShalette6 years ago in Humans
The Original Mabel
The lockbox hung as a black mark on Auntie’s front door. Mabel grabbed the hateful thing and punched in the combination, popping the box open to claim the key, shiny and newly minted from within. She opened the door and stepped into her beloved Auntie’s house for the last time. No longer alive with her presence, it stood as a tomb to be raided by those who don’t believe in curses. Mabel dropped her sleeping bag and went back to her car to get the dozen collapsed boxes before closing the door to the outside world. She had been given the weekend, reluctantly, by her great-aunt’s daughter Corrine to take the books she had been left in the will with the caveat not to touch anything else, as everything had been cleaned, recorded and priced. Corrine would hate it if she had to call Mabel’s parents about something that was missing or broken.
By Christine De Vuono6 years ago in Humans
The Little Black Book
THE LITTLE BLACK BOOK There it was. The little black book. It sat on the floor, in the middle of the room. Alone. The moonlight cast a spotlight on it, through the bare window, like it was waiting for it to take a bow. The breeze gave me a chill. Or, was it the ambiance of this lonely room? My eyes scanned this one-room house for a glimpse into its past. Mouse droppings littered the floor, giving the sense that I wasn’t alone. The front door hung loose off the hinges, like clothing on hangers at an annual rack sale. There was no furniture, but the wooden floor was scarred from furniture that may have been dragged across it at one time. It was obvious this place – somebody’s home – has been vacant for quite some time. Yet…this little black book was laying perfectly center in this little black room.
By Jazmine Warling6 years ago in Humans
Sandi's Insecurity
You know the old saying, “be careful what you ask for?” Well in my case, this is one time I wish I would’ve never asked. Here I was, Ms. Sandi Whitaker, in my prime, mid-twenties, I must add, living my best life. Unfortunately, my insecurities set in, leading to a moment I can never take back. Let’s go back to a year ago, when the most exciting day of my life became the worst day of my life.
By Misty Chiandra Ward6 years ago in Humans
You Just Never Know
Short story - You Just Never Know Judy woke up to the sound of banging on her door, she lay there thinking what day is it? did I invite anyone here? Looking around she notices that it is still quite dark so it must be early, all the time the banging on her door is increasing.
By Julie Walters6 years ago in Humans
Fully Functional
“Where the hell did you get the money Kate?” What does it matter it was the twenty thousand we need I thought, as I stared into the desperate brown eyes of my husband of ten years. “Why you are asking me, just transfer it into the home loan account,” I hissed with contempt. How dare he question me! I did what I needed to do and sorted it. Trying hard to hide the look of disgust and my deep, dark boredom that hid behind his every word.
By Kylie Foord6 years ago in Humans
Conversations with Jesus
This was one of the first stories I ever wrote. I've written, rewritten, scrapped, rewritten... It was a seemingly endless process. It is a project that is dear to my heart, partly because parts of it are direct experiences. I finally decided to try and get it published and it is in Magic We've Forgotten, an anthology.
By G. Dean Manuel6 years ago in Humans
Scribbles in
Cleaning houses is my mother’s business. She encouraged me to go to college, get a degree and find a job doing something I loved. ‘Do well in school’ she said to me. 'So you won’t have to clean toilets and mop floors. Use your brain not your back’, she said. Although it was my first job at sixteen and where I worked on the weekends and summer vacations, she didn’t want to make it a family business. Don’t get me wrong, mom has a thriving business in the Seattle area with some wealthy clients and she’s grateful for the work. Most of her clients are tech guru’s or CEO’s who live in mega mansions whose houses are still clean when you come back because they are never at home to dirty them.
By Lorri Meyer6 years ago in Humans
Drawing Fire
The artist’s knuckles were enormous, arthritic, bent. He scratched at the page, huddled in the corner of the pub in his newsboy cap and swallowing wool coat. How his fingers could even grasp the pencil, I wasn’t sure, nor how his eyes—milky, rheumy—could catch my likeness.
By Beth Doane6 years ago in Humans
