literature
Whether written centuries ago or just last year, literary couples show that love is timeless.
Goodbye, Mr B
Struggling to his feet and pushing his bent wire-rims back up his bloodied nose, Arthur Bletchley was overcome with the unbearable feeling that everything in his life up until that moment had been a sham, a farce, an extravagant charade – and not the kind that he liked to play at dinner parties.
By Joseph George5 years ago in Humans
My Little Black Book
This incredible story begins in 2019, after I had my first premonitory dream. To be honest, I don’t know if it was my dream which was premonitory or if it was the little black book in which I wrote that dream that was magical. Anyway, all I know is that since I started using this notebook, I’ve realised that all my dreams were coming true!
By Astrid NORDIN5 years ago in Humans
What’s Your Bookish Love Language?
It’s almost a quarter of a century since Gary Chapman’s The Five Love Languages was published, and the book has helped countless couples understand each other better. The idea is that we all have certain ways we naturally prefer to receive love, and we sometimes assume, without even realising we are assuming it, that the people in our lives long for the same things we do — whether that’s regular date nights, long letters of appreciation, or small but thoughtful gifts. We may think we are giving love, but they may not feel they are receiving it — and vice versa. Since the original book, there have been various other editions published, to help us love our kids, our teens, and our friends, in the way that they receive love best.
By Claire Amy Handscombe5 years ago in Humans
Black Depth
The darkness echoed in hymn. The sadness in its song, the longing. It reached out into the abyss hoping to be found, to be noticed. It had looked a sorry sight when I found it, a most peculiar finding. I felt an overwhelming ache in my ribcage, that crawled between my bones and pressed softly against my chest. But I couldn’t take my eyes away, not even for a second. It was there, on the ground. Some decaying leaves had covered the corners with their skeleton veins and it had a tear down the side, as if it had been thrown so violently away that I could almost feel its sorrow pulse through the veins in my wrists. Rejected by its owner. I knelt down in the dust, the ash. The fire had stopped burning yesterday and the only thing that could be found through the greying haze of a once beautiful blaze was this. This small black book that looked like coal and ruin. Its pages were held together protectively by a single elastic strap.
By Beca Harris5 years ago in Humans
Trist of a Tale
The light gently showed through the rust-colored leaves above my head, the crisp wind flinging the loose leaves into the air and out of view. I could hear the other children laughing in the background along with Durn’s hammer striking an iron tool of some sort, driving his hammer rhythmically onto the metal, sharply ringing through the air. Although I should be brushing out the horses’ manes, the breeze called to me, and before I knew it I was resting beneath the big oak by Marion’s place. My eyes grew ever heavier and I felt my view of the sky disappear under my eyelids.
By Michael Gaydos5 years ago in Humans
Trinity
George avoided his father’s workshop for as long as possible. Upon entering it was even more miserable than he’d expected. Something must have died amongst the wildlife and detritus, and he could smell it thickly in his nostrils. In good weather the conservatory walls brought it light, but now the grey sky closed oppressively above him, and the grass lay soggy and wilting outside, seemingly less green than usual. The rain hammering migraine-inducingly against the glass walls, dripping off the sloping roof like waterfalls.
By Cathy Davies5 years ago in Humans
Little black book
Hi my name is Alexis Bland. I moved to Hot Lanta a few years ago to start my Million Dollar company. My restaurant which I still own today. I didn’t always have money. I did what any other girl from the hood did schemed, scammed, and stole till one day a girl named Tiffany changed my life. I’m gonna take you guys back a few years ago before I became Ms. Alexis Bland.
By Nisha laboy5 years ago in Humans
Mysterious Blessings
Under pressure, Sam began drinking again after five years of sobriety. He had hopped from bar to bar over the past three months to drown his sorrows after he and his wife, Stacy, lost their jobs due to COVID-19. The mortgage and other bills kept piling up, and the unemployment checks were meager and sporadic. The financial strain had caused major tension between Sam and Stacy, and she threatened him with divorce once or twice although she hadn’t gone through with filing the papers.
By Kyle Mosley5 years ago in Humans
I can't wait for life to happen
I’m up. It’s what my internal dialogue always tells me, not what I tell myself. Almost like someone else is telling me what’s happening, my external narrator. Okay so you’re awake, now what. The light is streaming in softly from the vinyl blinds covering my windows. My cell phone is tucked under my pillow, I unplugged it from the charger and check it for the time, it’s a quarter past nine. I try to crawl into the part of my brain that functions to figure out what day of the week it is. After staring at my closet doors for about a minute I finally decide that it’s Thursday. Shakespeare’s sonnets at twelve thirty, followed by eighteenth century gothic literature at three, the latter of the two I’m actually looking forward to. Before even taking this class I already read most of the books on the syllabus; Bram Stoker’s Dracula, Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, a smattering of H.G Wells novels, and some news clippings about Jack the Ripper from the London Daily Post circa 1888. After finally willing myself to sit up and think about my day I turn to my nightstand and pick up my black leather day planner. Flick off the elastic keeper and turn to the current week.
By Stephanie Bontorin-Stuart5 years ago in Humans
