Love
Trip to Pamplona
The sun sets in a beautiful hue of golds and pinks along a quite street in Pamplona, Spain. I stare at the beginnings of twilight, lost in thought to how disappointing this trip has been so far. My husband, Francois, had invited me on his company trip to Spain. He had to go to the annual meet and greets to schmooze some colleagues and make sure his name was still remembered among the board members. When he invited me onto this trip, I had a grandiose vision of us strolling through Pamplona, listening to street musicians strum their guitars. We would explore new historical places, dine on food not found in our own country, and have romantic evenings that would end in sweet kisses. However, I'm now wishing I had stayed in France.
By Victoria Blitz5 years ago in Fiction
Underneath the Pear Tree
“Meet me at our spot under the pear tree tonight” I carefully fold the handwritten letter up and hide it in my pillow case. If my parents found out about Izzy, I could lose everything as well as bring shame on my family. We used to be close friends growing up, but after her father’s scandal their entire family were shamed. Honestly I didn’t mind, she and I would meet up often by the pear tree. It started as friends but over the years, friends started to grow into something more. I loved her… I do love her. Ever since her father shamed her family we would meet to talk about ways we could escape, but there always seem to be things making it feel impossible.
By Kalina Davis5 years ago in Fiction
The Bull and Balenciaga Man
My fists clench in attempt to stop my shaky hands becoming too noticeable. As the anger inside me progressively builds, my will power to not grab this self-absorbed man by his diamond encrusted Balenciaga chain diminishes. I can’t believe I’m on a date with this shallow man.
By Marissa Macedo5 years ago in Fiction
I Love You, Samantha
I don’t believe it!! This is not happening!! Am I dreaming? My thoughts started to swirl together, as if an F5 Tornado had touched down in my head. I winced from pinching my forearm, causing a sharp pain that tingled as it spread through the nerves up my arm, like wildfire. This can’t be real; I won’t accept it. I can’t handle this.
By Deecan Frost5 years ago in Fiction
Lover's Festival
A farmer's daughter was so fair, and a banker's son was so charming; to be wed only in death's bed. These lyrics have always haunted my thoughts of love. I suppose they shaped my childhood notions. It was the rhyme we all heard as children in our small town. They sang it every year for the Lover’s Festival. The town had turned an old lover’s fable into hopeful merriment. We sang, we made wishes, and we prayed for love.
By Meredith Lawless5 years ago in Fiction
