literature
Whether written centuries ago or just last year, literary couples show that love is timeless.
Leave It to Them
All my life, it was very evident that I was the technical theatre queen, not the singing goddess. I knew this because of just how ordinary I had always been. There are plenty of things about me specifically that I felt as if went unnoticed or were too ordinary to catch the attention of someone else. I was a twenty-seven-year-old woman with the most simple brown hair, the most simple brown eyes, and a name that never seemed to cause question. My sense of fashion varied depending on the work I was producing at the moment, which often was never anything too grand. I also never was the singing type. Sure, I was involved in musical theatre for eight years, but as a seamstress. In an environment as rigorous as theatre, a seamstress has no business singing but instead seaming. I was okay with this fact considering I was more capable with a needle and thread than I was with some lyrics or a song. There was never a question asked from me, I just did as my art led me to do. When trying to think from an outsider’s perspective, I simply wasn’t anything grand.
By Katelynn Schulte7 years ago in Humans
Embers: Chapter 12
ZANDER The board full of signing sheets for the junior class was in disarray. Covered in signatures for sports and drama, art and music electives and other after school activities. I was having a slight crisis of indecision, wondering if it was a good idea to sign up for the track team this year. Zach and I would be starting work with Dad next week anyway. I wouldn't have the time or energy for school work, regular work and track too. I guess I could talk to Dad about it after school. Maybe he'd fire me and I could actually do something other than tune ups and tire rotations this time around. I didn't mind helping him out. Bonding over cars was a frequent past time for Dad and I. I just wanted something for myself for once. Something I didn't have to share with my brother.
By Sharlene Alba7 years ago in Humans
Pen and Scott
Her name is Pen. She's a quiet one, Pen. Doesn't like confrontation—with any gender. She's like one of those girls in the movies who have faded knee-length skirts, white socks, black loafers and a pink cardigan that's one too many sizes big. Her hair is a silky chocolate brown that reaches her mid back and if it wasn't for her yellow ribbon on top of her head, one would think she was half way decent for an actual date ... Not standing in a choir at church.
By Beverly Alvarez7 years ago in Humans
Something More
I wake up from my peaceful slumber to the small amount of light coming through the curtains. I need to hurry up and get out of here before Tom wakes up. I carefully pry his arms off of my waist then get up and get dressed. I then grab my phone and head out to the streets to head to my apartment
By Gisselle Canales7 years ago in Humans
WildTeenSeries (Pt. 2)
Waking up to the bacon aroma sizzling from the kitchen was something I could use right now. My mother gets up early on Saturdays simply because she runs errands, does breakfast, and cleans the, house. She likes to keep herself busy and discuss weekly updates with me and my sister through breakfast.
By Maria Starakov7 years ago in Humans
Not Quite
Everything is so bright and clear. The sun continues to feed my skin as I walk among the grass. I look up and close my eyes for a fraction of a second. The sky is nothing but clear and there is only a small breath of wind that periodically kisses my face and touches my hair. There are no cars, and there are no buildings. It is only me and the trees, hardly any sound. All I had carried with me is my phone and a bag containing a water bottle and an upholstery blanket in case I decided to sit for a while.
By Mick Johnson7 years ago in Humans
