Love
The Birds
The best advice always comes from nature. The best advice, the best guidance, the best protection. I was travelling around South America after my recent, dreadful, break up, determined to forget him and to discover the part of the world that’s famed for its sensuality. I’d never been anywhere so far flung. Though I had spent time on the opposite side of the world in London, along with travelling around Europe with London-based friends, that was simply a rite of passage for any typical kiwi girl, and not a proper adventure.
By Charlotte Dallison4 years ago in Fiction
Blindman's Breakfast
Part One: Blind Man’s Breakfast Chapter 1: The Patio Giles De La Ronde was born blind, but since a man cannot rue the loss of something he never had, he asked for sympathy from none. In fact, he reveled in a very special superiority over his sighted neighbors in the Vieux Carré.
By Mark Newell4 years ago in Fiction
La Guara Rojo
Maria had been sitting in the maloka for almost an hour. In the darkness, over the pounding of her own heart, she could hear her neighbours shifting in their seats, rearranging crystals on their altars, rolling mambe. She’d watched the curandero stand in the middle of the circle, blowing ceremonial tobacco smoke to the four cardinal directions, thanking Father Sky and Mother Earth.
By Birdy Rain4 years ago in Fiction
How to make your own wedding cake and eat it too
Start early, say at twelve, with Chris O’Donnell sword-fighting on the screen and your heart beating as you think, So this is a man. This is when you start making the design of your wedding cake, made up of the first illusion of love and everything that it implies. You think about the layers, the flavour, the filling, the icing, and the decorations. Five layers seem too tall and ominous, and three is for a girl’s quinceañera, the big 15th birthday ball that every Mexican girl dreams of. You can always go for five on an expanded array, like your aunt Cora’s, but you already have this image of three roses climbing up over the layers of the cake, so you go for a respectable four layers and add a sparkle of sugar pearls. Not too many, otherwise it would look tacky and people would ooh at you and whisper how distasteful you are behind your back. Maybe thirty-three, one for each one of the traits you wish for in your future husband. Vanilla is the reasonable flavour, because it’s white and neutral; the filling: strawberries and cream, to add a touch of red inside and tartness to the sweet.
By Sandra Tena4 years ago in Fiction
Out THere
Ray Dragon’s writing career had fallen on hard times. Ray was running dry after the relative success of his first book, Loving Them Madly. This is a fictional account of serial killer Simeon Beckwith’s horrific murders of young women near the Oberlin College campus. He also wrote a few travel articles for This Our World, in which the only traveling he did was over a mouse pad. Unfortunately, the magazine failed before any royalties were paid.
By Ed N. White4 years ago in Fiction
The Yearning of Jeanette
Jeanette hitched up her leggings, expertly hooking a finger to extricate them from between her sweaty arse cheeks before turning back to her shopping. On autopilot, she weaved her way absent-mindedly through the quiet morning traffic in the aisles of Lidl, carving her way through clouds of warm, sweaty humanity with her belligerent trolley. Three of the wheels were compliant, having worked long enough to have the free-spirited attitude that mobility gives ground out of them by their eternal up and down life. One wheel, though, was still young, full of hope and ambition, as it constantly asked Jeanette if she’d like to turn right, in the vain hope that enough right turns and it would eventually make it out of the sliding doors to freedom. Even trolleys can dream, even if that dream is futile.
By Gary De Cloedt4 years ago in Fiction
Birds of a Feather
Six months of living here and I’m stil not use to waking up to the sounds of all the birds and critters that live right outside my balcony patio. I think as I sip my coffee, while staring at two parakeets fly overheard and a ground squirrel search for its food on the forest floor. Six months ago I was an exotics doctor working for a non-profit organization back in the states, but after they found the company was money laundering it was dispearsed and left me and many others out of a job and under scrutiny of the public. I put up with it for all of three months, before I got sick of the accusations and the not so subtle reasons for why other organizations didn’t want me working for them. I had nothing to do with their money scheme, in fact I didn’t even know what was happening until it was too late, so after losing everything and living with my best friend rent free for three months, I decided to take action. I happened upon a job Ad for an exotics doctor specialist in Columbia, South America. The job mentioned they would pay for my flight if I got hired and the pay was double what I was making there in the states, so after talking with my friend about it I applied and got hired three days after my zoom interview, and so here we are now.
By Selika Richardson4 years ago in Fiction
The Mortal and the Goddess
Photo by Didin Emelu (Unsplash) The Secret Garden (the mortal chapter 1) I have felt this feeling before, this feeling of being free.. again I have been dreaming. In as many nights in a row as possible, I have dreamed the same thing. I am walking through a green field alongside a crystal clear river, one where the stones and peebles in it can be seen as looking through a mirror. Giant trees decor the landscape underneath a sky full of orange.. fall they call it. And then, I see her. Sitting on top a rock near a waterfall, her long black hair gently falling along her shoulders down to her waist. Her golden brown skin glistening in the sun majestic light. She slighty turns to me, but I hide; my shyness always triumphs. Her hands playing in the water, no doubt admiring the glowing peebles in the water. There's something about her, I grow courage to ask her name.. and as I walk towards her, my hands are barely steady. She turns around and smiles to me, my eyes catches hers and suddenly time stops. The thunderous waterfall falls silents, standing still as snow in the ground. As I get near, my heart feels light, as if made of feather.. I ask her name.. she smiles and says: "My name is Na.." Gone Nothing. Silence. As I open my eyes I realize that I am still in my bed, the first light of day creeping through the curtains. Just like every dream before, I never get her name. I find myself navigating through a concrete jungle where everybody looks the same. The mighty green trees I have seen are now tall boring grey towers, no magic at all. All this people, walking meaningless, bound to this material confine. Expressions, manners, one and the same.. There! You heard it? A whisper.. "Na.." I may be going crazy right now. Am I losing a grip on reality? Or is she out there?. As I get to my destination, someone catches my gaze.. "those eyes, I know them" I say to my self. I walk up to that someone and there she stand, smiling and out of my lips a "what's your name?" slips out. No name, just a laugh and a "you're funny". And so she leaves.. story of my life. Thousand upon thousands of stars illuminate our nights, their light shining upon us. Beautiful, unreachable but perfect. Only but a godess is parallel to their beauty. So, is this what my mystery woman is? A goddess? As my soul wanders through the infinite wonders in the universe, never before has it feel like this. As free and courageous, inspired like never before.. still the question remained. How does one conquer a goddess? As my head rest above my pillow once again, all I can think and wish about is returning to that enchanted forest. With luck, this time, I can learn her name. I know that in my world, she does exist. But will she knows I exist?
By 𝑵𝒂𝒉𝒐𝒏𝒚 𝑯𝒊𝒓𝒂𝒍𝒅𝒐 4 years ago in Fiction
Rest Your Head
It takes everything in their power to not throw up from the dread that lines their stomach, pulling on their insides. They lay on their bed and stare blankly at the ceiling, intermittently shedding tears as they focus on keeping bile from rolling up their throat.
By Jules Day (they/them) 4 years ago in Fiction
The Garden
The sun was hot on her face as she laid in her garden. A smile across her face as she soaked in the heat. It had been raining and cold all week, now the rain spell was broken. A slight breeze rippled through the grass, the sounds of birds chirping, insects buzzing. She didn't even care the ground was still wet and a bit muddy. She had missed being in her garden which was her pride and joy. She sat up, her long brown hair sticking to her back and started inspecting the flowers around her. Making sure the rain didn't over-water them. She gleamed when she was done - none of her flowers wilting. She stood up and started spinning in the middle, her light-blue dress flowing around her, arms out and face towards the sky.
By Allison Marx 4 years ago in Fiction
