literature
Whether written centuries ago or just last year, literary couples show that love is timeless.
Blue Paper Stars
The cold, Appalachian air rolled down the mountain, filling the valley with a frothy-white mist, so quickly, that it sloshed back up the barren, winter hills like a hastily poured bowl of milk. The mist seeped through Brennan’s gloves and into his knuckles just as fast. Resting a palm on the shovel’s rust-eaten handle and another pushing on the small of his back, He stretched and gazed into the cloud covered sky. The air smelled thick with remnants of last night’s storm, harrowed earth, and iron. Leaning an elbow on his shovel, he began massaging circles into his palms, rubbing off fragmented rust and dried blood from the deep lines in his hands. Noticing how much blood was left, he began to rub his palm feverishly, panting so hard his breath was visible in short bursts, so thick he couldn’t see his hands, so red all he could see was red, so loud all he could hear was -- until a blister popped. The sharp pain brought him back into his body and all he could do was stare at his hands, rubbed raw, pulsating in harmony with the rhythm of his heartbeat.
By Jenna Calamai5 years ago in Humans
Dreaming
I saw her standing in the corner of the subway station, she was holding a camera on one hand and what it seemed like a Polaroid photo on the other. Her face expression seemed vague, a little sad I suppose. She rushed inside as soon as the subway train came to a halt, I couldn't help but rush after her. I sat down beside her; I had no idea where the destination of this train might be but I knew I had to talk to her. So I sat. I introduced myself and tried keeping a conversation although she seemed uninterested.
By Pita Gomez5 years ago in Humans
My Lucky Unlucky Day
My Lucky Unlucky day Damn, I can't believe my car broke down again. This is the fourth time this month. I could really use a miracle right now. I'm going to be late for work too! Again! I'll be lucky if i don’t get fired. This is great. I guess I'll be walking the 5 miles from the highway onramp back home. And if that isn't bad enough my phone is just about dead.
By Mary creighton5 years ago in Humans
Have a Glass of Champagne
The coffee cup sat on the corner of the desk half drunk. The steam had already subsided and occasional waves of hazelnut drifted on the HVAC laden air. The blue hue from the computer screen demanded attention like a toddler kicking and screaming at the injustice of a different colored cup. Work, work, work was the mantra. The mantra repeated itself like an old school record skipping.
By Fuzzy Slippers5 years ago in Humans
Not All Knowledge
Finally, four o’clock arrives. I don’t live far from work, maybe a mile. I usually just walk every day. St. George’s Bar is having a BOGO sale on whiskey shot tonight. Maybe I’ll stop by for an hour or so. As I get to the bar, Ashley, the bartender, asks me if I want ‘the usual.’ I nod distracted by the guy who comes to sit right next to me. This bar is never busy so there’s usually plenty of seats, so why did he suddenly sit next to me? “Hello madam.” His strange dialect catches me off guard once more. “I’ll have what he’s having.” He looks over to me then takes one of his shots and tosses it back. “That’s a strong drink. Bad day?” I’m dumbfounded unsure of what’s happening right now. “Are you alright?” he asks with a nonchalant look. “Oh, um, yes. I’m fine,” I clear my voice.
By chelsey miles5 years ago in Humans
The Cost of Cowries
Thin clouds – the kind that form in feathery wisps and disappear before you can be sure they were ever there at all – dance gracefully along the deep blue line of the horizon. That’s the way I start every story, have done since I was about eleven. I haven’t got an imagination, which is why it's fortunate that so many of my memories of our childhood happen to be beautiful.
By Winnie Stubbs5 years ago in Humans
Obsession
I hadn’t been in New York City for very long but the sprawl of the metropolitan landscape and the lights, especially at night, had captured my imagination and attention like no place ever had. I was raised in upstate New York, in a rural town just south of the great Lake Ontario. It was beautiful country and my father was an apple farmer. He had managed to parlay the fruits of the land into a respectable income that had allowed our family to have an upper middle-class experience in the setting of a lower middle-class community. My best friend from college, Vicki, had joined me in my quest to move to NYC and we were fast friends and roommates since moving to the city.
By Carol Cornwell Strickland5 years ago in Humans
