Love

Locked Memories
Henry lights up a cigarette in the outskirts of Bourbon Street in New Orleans, he sighs as he witnesses day by day that this place, he’s lived in for almost a decade is finally sinking. His wife, Lila who is suffering from severe depression has done nothing but the usual: wake up, eat, sleep, and repeat. They have been married for about twelve years, but no children. It’s been a dream that they get to live by the French Quarter where they can share their common enjoyments like jazz music and the constant vibrant nightlife that it’s known for. Henry was a long-time civil engineer for a small company located in New Jersey where he met Lila. She was just an admin when he started out, they bumped into each other in the break room then the rest turned to history.
By Christina Chantharavongsa5 years ago in Fiction
Song in the Woods
The Song in the Woods The song was all he had left; it’s why he never left and why he never came closer than the boundary.
By Frannie 5 years ago in Fiction
Remember to Forget Me
Memories are dangerous. That’s what Yuyu always told me. “They’re only good for painin’ folks,” he’d said. “Either makin’ ‘em sick with wishin’ they could go back to somethin’, or drivin’ ‘em crazy with wantin’ to forget somethin’ else.”
By E. F. M.5 years ago in Fiction
Paper kites
Looking down I can't believe it. Frantically searching, digging, weeding, and then searching again. I can feel my heart beat increase and that intense hot constriction of my trachea. you know the one. When you feel like you will asphyxiate. The one that comes when panic rises, tears flow, and hearts break.
By Terah Jamison5 years ago in Fiction
I am old
I am old now with my story coming to an end. I remember a time when flowers bloomed, and the days unfolded with birds and blue skies, but those days are gone now it is too hot to go outside. The birds have long burned, and the blue skies are hot with fire. The ones that survived have been through the height of trauma but the ones that remember are the ones doomed. Times are different people survive. I received my locket today. My fate is but days away.
By Page Neihoff5 years ago in Fiction
Adam's Doomsday Diary
Day 2,099. A Tuesday. I always thought beginnings were tough, I never really thought about endings. I was nineteen then. Took a year off a schooling to “find myself”, little did I know that I would have so much more time to find who I really am. Adam. I hate my name. Nobody ever uses it. I hate being here. I hate being alive. I always thought that people back then were unlucky. I’m the unlucky one. Why am I still here? The last person, if you can even call them that, I saw was 48 days ago. I wish I was taken even then. I’m not even sure it’s Tuesday. I look down at my heart-shaped locket. I WISH I DIDN’T MAKE IT THIS FAR!
By Adam Starr5 years ago in Fiction
Bridal Gift
It was common knowledge that the Smiths and the Wardens hated each other. This was what Elisha Warden reflected on as he picked his way over the ancient debris. Despite being surrounded by relics of a bygone age, rife with risk and reward, his family’s feud was what occupied Eli’s head.
By Hayden Dillard5 years ago in Fiction
Developing a Taste for Coffee
He hadn’t been there forever. He wasn’t like most people in the town, where their ancestors settled in the town and the family never left. He had arrived the winter before last in a modest carriage drawn by a horse that wasn’t anything to brag about. It was clear that even though he was from the big city near them, Coremont, he didn’t necessarily make big city money. His brown tweed jacket was worn and had a small hold in the left shoulder, something that could have been fixed if he had the time to do so, and he hadn’t bought a house when he moved into the small town of Darley. Instead, he converted the lab of the previous doctor that was above the office into a small apartment.
By Madelyn HIx5 years ago in Fiction
Heart Song
I woke up to the sound of birds singing and their song sent a stab through my heart. It was one of those days where the beauty that remained of my surroundings was a painful reminder of what had been and what was lost.
By Laura Leite5 years ago in Fiction
Midland
The pink child sized roller suitcase disappeared around the end of the hallway beyond security as a smack to her temple woke her. She blinked sleepily, pulling her mind back from the airport to focus on the orange dust streaming outside the aluminum framed window which had become her accidental pillow. The bus bounced again, and she rubbed at her eyes, clearing the grit. Her skin felt a size too small, lips stuck together. There was no way of knowing how long she’d slept. Fully awake, she checked the silver heart, sliding it back and forth on the ribbon around her neck. Uncurling, her knees crunched complaining about the extended time bent against the pebbly green seat in front of her. Sleep had come with her head on her backpack, but even slumping over unconscious she hadn’t let the canvas out of her grip. The water in her bottle was flat and hot, but she swished it thoroughly before swallowing.
By Timber Holmes5 years ago in Fiction
Mouse and Bat
As the winter’s grip gently releases the spring warmth, black silhouette of winged flying mice begin to appear in the evening skies as they swoon, swoop and soar for tiny flying morsels. A long hibernation has come to an end.
By Daniel Lestrud5 years ago in Fiction
The Heart Shaped Key
I woke up to the sounds of my wife coughing up a storm. “Jesus Christ, Ashlee!” I said in my raspy, dry voice. “I’m sorry! But my asthma has been acting up for days now, and I ran out of the last inhaler we managed to find a few months ago.” She replied while covering her mouth to keep her coughing from disturbing me further.
By Patrick Mourin5 years ago in Fiction