Love
A Chance for Love
A piercing scream echoed in the darkness, sending chills up her spine. She searched the star-studded sky, only to see a shadow darken the full moon. The owl's silhouette glided in silence, its soft feather down fluttering in the gentle breeze. It screeched once more, turning a few yards above her head as if in a dance, and then flew straight at her face. Its great wings made a whooshing sound as it slowed, suspended in front of her for a moment. Her heart raced as its eyes seemed to pierce her soul, holding a pearl of ancient wisdom–mysterious and out of reach.
By Nicole Boyd 4 years ago in Fiction
Skin in the Game
I saw him again tonight. This was the third time he'd come alone, or at least it seemed like he was alone. I've tried to think back, tried to remember if I'd seen him more than just the last three performances, but if he was here, I didn't file that memory away.
By Chris Botto4 years ago in Fiction
The Birds in our Family Tree
I was born in the same room my mother was born in, and her father, and every other Swan in existence, all born on a farm in Alabama. They were all buried here, too. At least, that’s what my grandfather used to tell me. I marveled at his round face, free of wrinkles, as he pinched my chubby cheeks. Swear he never aged a day in my life. He told us they used to tease him in school when they said black doesn’t crack, but he was the only one left to laugh at it now. He had plenty of jokes. The only thing he didn’t find too funny was breaking tradition.
By Blake A Swan4 years ago in Fiction
Future Tears
“Can I get you anything else dear?” Those soft words echoed as the small hand of the waitress reached towards my shoulder. As it came to rest there in a loving gesture, I was whisked away once again, to my dreams. A blur of images, pictures, and quick scenes flashed before me in my subconscious. So many wonderful memories from Anna, the old waitress. Her life was long and quaint, but full of life and laughter. It seemed like minutes before I caught up to the present and saw myself in a few scenes, sitting in this very booth, sharing hearty conversations and strawberry milkshakes with her. It was nice to see that I was a warm part of her long life. Swiftly I disappeared from the scenes and only a few more sweet memories of her long-time friend and pet, Betty the barn owl, drifted by before I reached the end. It seemed like a few minutes had passed while I was viewing this collage, but it had only been a moment and I could still hear the tail end of her question fading into the quiet background of the café. A single tear fell slowly from my right eye, pristine and beautiful. Full of color and life, shining so bright, and yet still reserved to a single tear. Mesmerizing to look at, if you knew how. I quickly looked away out the window, wiping the tear secretly while masking it by pretending to scratch my cheek. “I think I’m all set, thank you Anna!” I said as I turned and smiled back to the friendly face looking down at me. She nodded as she continued to smile and turned to head back toward the main counter against the back wall of the café.
By Caleb Reimer4 years ago in Fiction
Spirit of the Owl
Staring into cloudy abyss of night sky, my heart starts to flutter. I remember at once all of those sticky summer nights we spent side by side, looking far into the endless sea of black. You, in your white, light sundress, distract my eyes away from even the stars. Your eyes would outshine any number of those burning suns in this galaxy or the next.
By Lex T. Barnett4 years ago in Fiction
The Hopeless Owl
The sun rises over the forest village, and the enormous trees allow light rays to flow through their leaves, painting the forest floor in dappled shadows. Lilith, an eighteen-year-old with a gentle voice and light brown hair, grew up in a little forest town named Vihnlox with her father and other ordinary villagers until she met Deon, and everything changed ever since.
By Hasti Shams 4 years ago in Fiction
He.
He. The heat of a vintage lamp watched idly by as he weaved his life into piano keys. Just as his adolescence made mistakes, he hit the wrong keys, playing when he shouldn’t, talking out of tune. Fueled by the feeling received from the melody he continued creating errors, not a traditional, wise path but one that tickled his brain in stimulation. The chemical-infused notes signify the ever-changing ambiance in the fever that was our prematurity in juvenile adoration. I imagine coming behind him, brushing his shoulders with the softest fingertips I could muster as he plays. Enraptured by the notes, I don’t hear his missteps. I had never heard the song before, at least never like this.
By Payton Fischer4 years ago in Fiction
