literature
Whether written centuries ago or just last year, literary couples show that love is timeless.
Hysteria and Disillusion
It spoke to me. I'm sure of it. It was midnight. It was quiet. It was silent. I was warming myself near the fireplace. Only the cries of the fire and the wailing of the wind were the gentle noises I could hear. That was my nightly silence.
By Khaos Inkarnatum6 years ago in Humans
Bittersweet entanglement
The ground felt soft beneath his bare feet. Softness tickles. Beds of decaying leaves. Just like moist carpet. Layered. "Softened by rain" he whispered to himself. He felt amused. He closed his eyes. Relying solely on tactile sensations from the ground, he played a game of "I spy" with himself. Prominent midrib. Longish tapering blade. "Eucalyptus!" Spindly soft. "Pine needles."
By Oliver James Damian6 years ago in Humans
Sorrow
A hoot sounded into the silence of the night, the only sound to break the cacophony of thoughts thrashing in my mind. I looked out into the distance and saw it perched onto a branch, so beautiful, so majestic with its creamish gold feathers gleaming in the twilight, this beautiful barn owl watching me disapprovingly; knowingly.
By Jane Eleanor6 years ago in Humans
The Nest
The last time the room had featured an alarm clock the man occupying it had worn a far younger face, younger clothes too. But despite this absence, the only pair of eyelids in the room arose every morning like clockwork at 3:45am. The man swung his legs over the side of the bed, allowing them to fall to the floor without much resistance. He reached up and rubbed his eyes, in the past this might have invigorated him, kick-started his day perhaps? Now it served only to wake him and remind him that he had to face another one. His movements quickened in the following moments, he began to enact a dance he felt he had performed enough by now. He reached down and after fumbling for a time found a ragged old jumper, covered in holes, stains and smelling considerably worse than you're imagining. At great expense to his arms the man hauled it over his head and just to be fair, he expended his legs, raising himself to a standing position. From this position he could make eye contact with a photo of his girls that hung on the wall. He chose not to. Instead, he staggered forward towards a screwed up pair of jeans on the floor, he suddenly felt regret for the way he'd carelessly discarded them the previous evening. Acquired and fitted, his look was complete, not that he was a gentleman with a look. Not that he was a gentleman.
By Dom Borrett6 years ago in Humans
Help Me
HELP ME …..Sobbing! Mother, please help me? A loud drunken voice yells, “She is not going to help you; she knows better!” The young man looks at his mother with desperate tears in his eyes, wanting her protection. They share a moment’s stare looking directly into each other eyes to their soul. The mother breaks into tears and hangs her head. Then a loud noise with a crash as the young man’s vision becomes blurry. The stepfather was looking down on him, laughing, saying, “You are as worthless as she is; why don’t you do us all a favor and end it.”
By George Shannon Ferguson6 years ago in Humans
The Harbinger of Death and The Herald of Light
Mason's eyes were very telling. Entering his 48th year, his face belied the truth about himself….his life had been hard. Years of being homeless, subjected to the harsh and varying weather conditions, had creased his skin permanently, most notably around his eyes. But his eyes themselves…they were a beautiful hazel, more emerald in color than any other. Like the precious jewel, they shone brightly. And they told a story. A story of his life relaying more information than just that of his mental illness and being homeless as a result. They told the story of a man that has seen and felt things more deeply and passionately than most; a blessing and a curse simultaneously. It has been said that the eyes are the windows to a person's soul. Mason was a prime example of this adage.
By Darian McIntosh6 years ago in Humans
The Caretakers
The thumping of her heart roared in her ears as she ran across the open field. The sky was open and wide, but Simon had never felt so claustrophobic in her life. She could feel her legs turning to lead as she continued to pound her way across the grass and towards the forest. A loud crack sounded not far behind her, and she heard a piercing whistle go past her ears – they were gaining on her. Simon’s pack bounced across her back as she willed herself to keep running – fearing that if she thought too much about keeping her legs going, she would surely trip over herself. There was shouting in the distance and the sound of hounds barking started up – a shiver went down Simon’s spine. The forest was but a hundred meters from her now – she could surely reach the trees before the hounds reached her – right? Hearing the hounds racing through the tall grass behind her, Simon mustered whatever she had left in her and pushed herself until the safety of the trees were within reach and then dived into the forest. Her legs kept pushing her until she was safely concealed behind bushes and shrubbery and Simon watched carefully between the branches as the hounds raced and stumbled to a halt on the boundaries of the woods. They paced back and forth along the border, growling and snapping as their masters caught up to them. Simon could see them talking amongst themselves, likely trying to convince one and other that there was no need to continue forth into the woods. As Simon worked hard to slow her breathing and catch her breath, she watched as the masters turned around and led their dogs back to the town with them.
By Emily Fernan6 years ago in Humans
A night in the woods
His breath pushed downward as he exhaled through his nose in the fire light. The amber hew coloring everything as Wynne pulled his arms tighter to ward off the cold. It was doing nothing but make him feel even more chilled than previously. Across from the small campfire was the older of their group. An aged and battle-hardened fighter who didn’t heed the chill air, but busied himself with the care and maintenance of his short sword. Ahroun studied his blade with a scrutinized look of mild contempt before he sighed and continued.
By Paul Brennan6 years ago in Humans
The Night Guardian
The Night Owl landed on my windowsill at 2.43am. I know, because the numbers on my old alarm clock had just been glaring at me, chastising me for reading so late. A rushing, swooping sound heralded the bird, followed by a wooden clatter. I looked up with a start, and froze. A huge Barn Owl sat perched on the sill, folding its wings. What the hell? What was it doing here? This wasn’t normal. Then, the Owl turned turned to gaze directly into my eyes. Its dark eyes overwhelming. I gasped, and was fixated.
By Lauren Sanson6 years ago in Humans
Talons of Mercy
Caroline muttered out a curse word as she stared at the shards of antique porcelain splintered across the hardwood floor. A large and calloused hand grabbed hold of her arm, shaking her out of the split-second stupor. She caught his eyes, flooded with concern.
By Marilyn Evelyn Evans6 years ago in Humans
