love
All you need is Love, and Love is all you need.
A Creative Heart
Brainpower has always been the most important type of power to me. Knowledge is everything to me (I'm a Ravenclaw) and finding ways to expand on my perspectives and understandings of the world as I know it is a peaceful passion I practice daily. It helps fulfill my need to gain more understanding, especially when it comes to humanity itself. When my emotions react in a way I cannot immediately understand, I review situations and compare them from different angles. If someone is hurting, I push myself into how everything they are experiencing must feel for them, and I validate their feelings through compassionate summaries of what they have shared with me. I would call it my most creative activity because each person I come across who I choose to help is an entirely different personality; I spend time learning that personality so I understand how to approach it and achieve results. I have harbored a passion for communication for the majority of my life; it always felt like an understanding worth having, as I learned early on that words and delivery were vital to effective discussions. Words are our most powerful type of magic to use, and I always did want to be a witch.
By Dani Banani5 years ago in Humans
Lindy's Gift
After another grueling day of physical training, the distance to my quarters seems endless. While navigating the corridor, my thoughts focus on my fiancée’s upcoming birthday. The challenges of having three days to prepare, and keeping preparations a secret, remain unsettled. In addition, no one, except Terrans like myself and my fiancée Lindy, knows what Death by Chocolate is.
By Brian Drake5 years ago in Humans
On Love
It consumes you. Whether it’s your own or another's, there is no way to escape the undeniable feeling that is the most desirable to experience. Some people would do absolutely anything to feel and experience just a little piece of the love others are willing to give. The difficulty is in finding not only the feeling but the person.
By Kennedy Bayer5 years ago in Humans
"Old Barns and Vintage Bottles"
She was reminded of him each time she passed an old barn, sitting off kilter, in its open pasture, the sight would bring her back to a time when life was an adventure! With him, it always was, she thought. And suddenly, she would sense him, as if he were there, as if he had never left her. And she felt safe and loved and whole.
By Pamela Walsh-Holte5 years ago in Humans
When saying "I love you" doesn't express how you feel
She could feel the chocolate run over her cut lip and down her chin, like a thin sheet of blood oozing out her mouth as she puckered her lips and then abruptly smacked them open for another bite. She shoveled the loaded fork of cake into her mouth. She almost swallowed the fork as she mashed down on the pasty but pulled it out of her tight lips, cleaning every tine as she sucked off the chocolate with a deep inhale. She pushed down through the slice of cake on her plate again making sure to get a fork full of cake, icing and chocolate syrup that was glazed over a scoop of vanilla ice cream, and raised it to her mouth again. The base of her fork was waxed in red lipstick that began at the end of the tines, from several shovelings of dessert. She wasn’t even talking anymore, she had become so enamored by her desert that all she could do was only open her eyes to look for her plate each time she was done with the previous bite.
By Daniel Lestrud5 years ago in Humans
Cooking from the Heart.
The lavender infused, chocolate mud-cake slid easily out of the heart shaped tin. She heaved a big sigh of relief, then inhaled deeply to enjoy the hot spicy air escaping from the cake. A slight perspiration wet her forehead, she lifted her linen apron up and used it to pat her face, leaving smudges of flour on her eyebrows. She gathered cups, plates and spoons. She warmed the teapot and poured the creamy milk into a pretty jug. It was a very special day, their anniversary. She intended morning ‘smoko‘ to be memorable. A repose wafted over her. She looked out the window.
By Tracey Price 5 years ago in Humans
THE PEN PALS
I had joined my first job as an Assistant Geologist at the Ahmedabad Project of the Oil & Natural Gas Corporation (ONGC) of India on February 10th, 1970, in Ahmedabad, India. I was exactly 21 years, 6 months, and 11 days old on that day. I shared a three-bedroom house in the Usmanpura locality with my fellow ONGC geologists; they were great guys, and all hailed from Karnataka. We used to subscribe to two national newspapers: the Times of India and the Hindu. Sometime in the summer of 1970 I saw the names of people listed under the ‘Pen Friends’ column in the Sunday Times of India. A name with the address was that of Mr. Rajesh Ramcharan of San Fernando, Trinidad, West Indies.
By Arun Kumar Ph. D.5 years ago in Humans
