Love

In the Quiet of the Night
John sighed heavily as he turned the key in the front door. The world was dark and cruel sometimes. He shrugged off his jacket and hung it up, before pulling off a tie he had loosened hours ago. He shuffled a few steps and slumped down heavily into his worn out armchair with his hand over his eyes, without bothering to switch on the light.
By Dr Jake Hong4 years ago in Fiction
Meant to be
Im going to tell you a story about a young couple who are now grown and happily married. It wasnt an easy road though they went through alot apart and together. Two souls who were meant to be. But almost everything and everyone stood in their way. They gave up for a while but came back strong. This is the story of Mitchell Tollison and Brittany Westall.
By Mitchell4 years ago in Fiction
Saving Daylight
I fell back to a different world that night. It appeared to be one of black and white. Old fashioned—sure, But I’m speaking more of simplicity.
By April4 years ago in Fiction
The moment we didn't get together
It had been a long evening. Drink had followed drink, story had followed story, smiles had followed smiles. There was a warm glow sitting behind my cheeks and by some miracle I was not feeling sick.
By Sarah Morgan4 years ago in Fiction
In Love, Out of Love
August It was my best friend’s birthday party where I first met you. She rented a beach out and the chilly August breeze led me to seek shelter inside. That was when I found you. Your baby blue eyes twinkled as you too were seeking warmth.
By Steven Rice4 years ago in Fiction
I Love You, Bella
The house was as silent as a Charlie Chaplin movie. In my mind, I could already hear the ever-constant click click click of Bella’s nails on the wooden floor. She always came to sniff and lick whoever came in through the garage door into the house. Her way of saying welcome back, I missed you while you were gone. But it was just a wish.
By Ifeanyi Esimai4 years ago in Fiction
The lies we tell
He was standing there in the middle of the mall he stood at about six-two, skinny but not too skinny he had a footlocker bag in one hand and a finish line bag sitting beside him. From the distance, I could see a ring on his hand but I couldn’t tell which finger it was on until she walked up and kissed him. Damn is what crossed my mind that’s when a hand was placed on the small of back-breaking me outta that graphic sex scene I was having in my head. I guess he was watching me the same way I was watching him bc when I looked back over his back was turned to me. “Baby what’s wrong what were you staring at”? Chris Asked me
By Shamara Jackson4 years ago in Fiction
What's Not Gone
Evan carefully tips into the room so as to not disturb the sleeping figure in the bed or upset the glass of juice, plate of scrambled eggs with bacon, and vase with a single yellow sunflower on the tray he’s carrying. He places the tray on a bedside table and tries to tip out again, but stumbles on the braided rug.
By Lucinda Witherspoon Joyner4 years ago in Fiction
Clarrie
Clarrie, 1933. The shop was still. The final rays of the summer sun beamed though the window, catching the sugar and flour in the air, casting giant shadows of Clarrie’s baked creations onto the floor and walls. He let out a sigh, blowing the leftover ribbon he’d tied a cake box with across the counter and onto the ground. Glancing at his watch, “Five o’clock. Time t’shut up shop” Clarrie said to himself. He hummed, gliding over to the shop door, flipping the sign to closed and pulled the cream blinds down with a dramatic woosh. He leaned against the door and inhaled the smell of sponge cakes and icing in the air and thought how much he loved this time of day; when the warm, treacle coloured light rolled into the shop, making him feel that all was right with the world. It was Saturday and George would be staying. Smiling to himself, he thought about last weekend. The memory was so vivid he could smell the jasmine scented twilight gently drifting through the net curtains, as he and George laid in bed drinking wine, both blissfully happy on their stolen evening. Lost in his memories, the clock upstairs chimed pulling Clarrie out of his thoughts. “Bugger. I’ve got to reckon up the day and get everything ready for tonight!” He quickly turned the key in the shop door, dashed to the till, its bell ringing in protest at being manhandled with such force, as he emptied the contents into a yellow bank bag. “There. I’ll sort all that out tomorrow. I’ve more important things to be getting done,” as he picked up the last two éclairs from under the counter and popped them in the kitchen. “We’ll have them after tea” he thought and made his way upstairs to put his favourite shirt on, mentally noting he needed to get some eggs from his chickens and a few flowers out of the garden.
By Siddown4 years ago in Fiction
The Marriage of Two
I stood before him, my husband, at the altar, our hands joined together by a bit of colourful rope while the grand priest recited words of prayer from his platform over us.
By Victoria Pitter4 years ago in Fiction
The Fractal Engagement
Before her lay time. Outstretched, as though a fine fabric sown into the very essence of space. She could almost see it, as though a bright, and broadening white light. It was beautiful. It held such promise. What was it he had told her when he had proposed?
By Eric Geimer4 years ago in Fiction
Love Letter
The hospital lights are a blinding and sterile white, a white that only makes me miss the bright colours of my home. The nurses are all showing kindness to me, insisting that I eat something, but I keep stubbornly refusing. I have tried to make conversation with them, but they are all in a hurry, and I am too tired to push them to speak. A doctor has indicated that there is not much time left for me, he looked too young to be a doctor, and was rather nervous as he spoke. I laughed at the fact that he appeared even more nervous than me.
By Carlos dominguez4 years ago in Fiction