Love
The Lost Love of a Vampyre
The Lost Love of a Vampyre It was a dark, foggy night in London, when I first saw her. What day this was, I couldn't say, since time has a way of becoming obsolete in my life. She was the perfect picture of beauty with her hair pulled back from her face, cascading down in curls. Her smile touched a long forgotten vein in my heart. I had to approach her. As I walked up to her, she turned toward me with this odd gaze that seemed to question my very existence. Something about her reminded me of someone I knew long before. With her in front of me, I could discern her dress with the empire waist tied with a long sash to be of red velvet, matching a ribbon in her hair. The red color of her attire was quite a contrast to her complexion, which was distinguished most by her pale skin, pigmented an icy buttermilk, as if one had poured buttermilk into snow. She had eyes and hair the color of deep chestnut. Her gaze intimidated me, but I kept my composure about me.
By Amy Chris Keiper aka LC Harrison4 years ago in Fiction
Bree the chatterbox
Bree, a young girl, lived her childhood in a small town with her mother and father. She was an only child and found it hard to make friends, so she spent most of her time playing by herself. As Bree grew older, she began to wonder why she was so different from everyone else but had no idea what it meant. She didn’t feel like she fit in anywhere, not even at home. Bree thought about this for many years until eventually she got married and had children of her own.
By Edison Ade4 years ago in Fiction
The Play's the Thing
It is ungodly hot and Hamlet should shut up. “You cannot call it love, for at your age the heyday in the blood is tame, it’s humble, and waits upon the judgment,” over-enunciates one of the actors while wildly gesticulating with a plastic human skull. The skull does not normally appear until Act 5, and Hamlet certainly is not waving it at his mother while lecturing her on how to control her sexual desires.
By Deidra Lovegren4 years ago in Fiction
Nonsense Makes True Meaning
Fallen leaves littered the quiet, rolling hills under the twilight, purple sky. Filled with the oh-so mundane movement of the birds in their delicately woven nests and the squirrels that sped through trees like snails through syrupy wastelands. Oh, how beautiful the unnamed land in its lifeful tragedy—yet still so lifeless.
By Equilla Beasley4 years ago in Fiction
Playing with Fire
“We’ll drop those supplies off in the morning,” Lila says to Odette, who nods and scribbles down the instructions for the messenger from her perch on Lila’s bed. “The last thing we need is the Nemean soldiers ambushing our transports in the dead of night.”
By Dani Dreams4 years ago in Fiction
I Came Home as Usual
The Love We Had, a novel Chapter 2 I tried to think back, the last few days before she disappeared. As far as I could see everything had been as usual. The day yesterday, and the day before that again. I came home, took off the shoes. I climbed the stairs. I came up to the main floor. She usually sat on a chair in the kitchen. The same thing always happened: As I entered, she got up.
By Øivind H. Solheim4 years ago in Fiction
