Love
Maybe Tomorrow, Maybe Not
Angela sat on the park bench next to the frozen lake. The breeze was picking up and stung her cheeks, and the tips of her ears. You could hear faint cracks coming from the ice occasionally if you sat long enough, it truly wasn’t winter anymore, and the ice was hanging on longer than usual this year. Any day now and it would be separating into sheets that got progressively smaller and just became floating chunks of ice, soon to disappear as if they never were there.
By Dick Bachman5 years ago in Fiction
Affair? WTF said gently under my breath
Just because I am successful, beautiful and accomplished....AND SINGLE...does not mean I NEED to have an 'Affair'. Although you are 6ft 3inches of perfect sinew and muscle rippling gorgeousness...WITH RESPONSIBILITIES....you need to keep your distance.
By Novel Allen5 years ago in Fiction
She Made the Best Fried Eggs
Morning came with the smell of bacon. The hiss and spit of oil finally waking her up; the birds screaming love songs directly outside her window helped. Ava was still tired. She hadn’t gone to bed late, hadn’t woken up early, but it was hard to keep her eyes open. She wasn’t quite sure she wanted to be awake.
By Bethany Osguthorpe5 years ago in Fiction
Nancy
Nancy Austin was a pretty girl, shy and sweet. Her strawberry blonde hair was cropped at her chin, and her wide eyes and perfect skin made her look like a porcelain doll. She dressed in pastel colors, and had a beautiful smile. Still, she didn’t have many friends. There was always something distant about her, like she didn’t belong.
By Eleanor Wells5 years ago in Fiction
The Pain Of Love
The morning sun peeks through the curtains. I lay there half covered after tossing and turning all night. I get up and stroll to the coffee pot and then out to the patio. The trees are green and blocking the earliest rays of the sun, just the green traffic light and the occasional car. I can see my neighbor's house, and I watch him stir, walking out to get the morning paper and then give me a quick wave. He is a beautiful man, a tall blond Australian, and newly divorced. I have tried to find out why he wound up getting a divorce from his wife, but no one seems to know.
By Jeff Johnson5 years ago in Fiction
Queen of Hearts...
She sat, uninspired at the choice of men. They were pretty to look at sometimes but for the most part they were dumb. Dumb to the point she was sick of it. Over two years of the good ones disappearing and her need for someone on her level left her exhausted. With the sex drive of a succubus, and untouched by anything that that would do it even for a Plain Jane she needed something different. Fantasies of men she had once met randomly were not doing it. She needed someone to fix well everything. She hated depending on anyone for anything but the universe had gone insane.
By Justice for All5 years ago in Fiction
An Antique (Gay) Love Story
PART I: LOVELY ANTIQUITIES Antique stores are places where formerly cherished things go to be cherished once again, by another lover. On the 5th day of October, Carter Jones and James Brown found themselves in the same antique store. Carter Jones, donning a loose sweater and tight jeans was looking amongst the old typewriters and electric retro tea kettles for glass jars and bottles to fill with various crystals and incense, he was a major hippie.
By Andrew Clark5 years ago in Fiction
We Used to Meet by the Pear Tree
We used to meet by the pear tree. It was atop a steep hill; exhausting to reach, but worth the mild suffering for the view. We felt like we could see everything! The fields of green that went on and on, the apple trees, our farm house, the neighboring houses...
By Katie Gabbard5 years ago in Fiction
A Love Frozen in Time
I take a sip from my light blue mug filled to the brim with delicious hot cocoa and feel the marshmallows stick to my lip as the liquid burns the roof of my mouth. I breathe and watch as my breath mists over the hot beverage and floats up slowly to the darkening sky outside the window, where clouds cover the orange glow of the setting sun. I close my fingers around the edge of the mug, absorbing all the heat that I possibly can before I go out and face the harsh cold of winter. I take a look at the world outside my window and watch as the people of this small town hurriedly get to their destination while bundled away in coats and parkas. They briefly pause to nod their hellos and goodbyes to the familiar faces but continue marching along to get out of the cold. Scarves fly behind them as if they planned a cape to be a part of their wardrobe, and the tops of their heads buried into their hats, such as a turtle would burrow up in his shell. I can hear the crunch of the snow under their boots by just looking at the movement, and it brings me to a place of nostalgia. It brings me to a time of childhood wonderment as my snow boots crushed through blank, untouched fields of snow, marking my footprint as the first sign of life. I smile, thinking back to a time of simplicity, rolling my eyes to the many days when I envied adults and wished I was my own independent being already. God, I wished I could take it back and travel back in time to relive the golden days where my only worry was the homework assignment that had been due the next day.
By Brianna Kot5 years ago in Fiction
