Love
Strawberry Mint
A box of strawberry short cake and a platter littered with homemade mint cookies sits so quietly, scrutinized by my misplaced glare, a worn pot once a vibrant lime green, the only audience in my frustration. A slow afternoon tea once again tarnished by red and smooth cream over my sharp cooling taste of mint.
By Elyssa Burd4 years ago in Fiction
"He is a murderer, I understand that very well": how a American woman, after the first date, married a man sentenced to 23 years
Alas, many women are waiting for their husbands and lovers from prison. However, some of them do not mind linking their fate with a man already serving time, going to him on rare dates hundreds of kilometers away and hoping that in the future they will definitely be able to live happily ever after. Anna shared her story with us.
By Sahina Bano4 years ago in Fiction
Navigating Time During a Droughtlander
While us fans wait for our beloved characters to grace our screens once more; we are stuck in what we call a Droughtlander. The inevitable waiting period that begins once the season finale comes and we long for more adventure to come to life with the next season. Until then we watch and rewatch what we have.
By Megan Marie4 years ago in Fiction
Love is not an easy game.
We were mere days away from getting married when Olga changed her mind and told me, “go to hell.” She had no good reason to do so, or at least I did not think so at that sad time. But later on, I was very grateful she’d saved us a kind of marriage situation that could lead only to trouble, fighting at the court, and a painful divorce.
By Ayman Baroudi4 years ago in Fiction
No Purchase Necessary
It all started when I was a kid. I saw it on a cereal box: no purchase necessary. I asked Mama what it meant and she said people could enter the contest without buying the cereal. Mama would never buy the cereal. It was not on the list.
By Riya Anne Polcastro4 years ago in Fiction
Theresa, a Love Story
Sometime in 1955, late , I suppose, my family took up residence on the property of a distant aunt of my stepfather. Her name was Appie Lane. Appie was an old time Virginian, transplanted to Fresno, some twenty years before. She was a stern old woman, but kind. She took to my Mom as to a new-found daughter. Her home faced a south-side street, and there were two houses on the strip of land behind it. In between those extra buildings stood an outhouse. The larger back residence had been tucked near the fence, just yards from a vineyard. We stuffed ourselves into it, all twelve of us, and proceeded to make the best of a situation. The schools we attended were thoroughly integrated, and I appreciated the diversity. We had just a few hours, after dismissal, to be playing in the yard. For, in the evenings, we crowded into Appie's house, to watch that new-fangled thing called television.
By Charles Turner4 years ago in Fiction
When The Ring Doesn't Fit
The ring had been meant for me. This much was clear when Frank slipped the ring on my ring finger. He we were, standing before an altar, in front of our families and friends, and the ring meant to bind me to the love of my life didn’t even fit.
By Chloe Medeiros4 years ago in Fiction
Piano Man
If you had told the Piano Man, “in a week life's gonna change for the better,” he would have finished his whiskey and chuckled at the very notion of better. He knew that his show was just about over, and that the third act wasn't going to get any better. He had long ago given up on the idea of better for himself. He knew it was real, the “better” that so many desperately craved, and he wished and hoped for “better” for his friends, but for now the Piano Man was comfortable and content. His life didn't look like much from the outside; his little apartment, his 55' Oldsmobile, and his favorite bourbon, but he admittedly did not need much to get by. The Piano Man was content to tickle the ivory and serenade the betties as he’d always done.
By Daniel Clay Varela4 years ago in Fiction
The Homecoming Queen.
I don’t know why my Uncle Clive left me his house in his will to me with all the trappings to go with it. My parents didn’t get on well with him and didn’t have much to say about his past life. Remembering back to my college days, being in love, taking good grades and becoming Homecoming Queen with my first real love. My father, thru his work , transferred to another State. We left, like criminals in the night, no goodbyes for my special love. I don’t see how he could ever forgive me.
By Dianne Neal4 years ago in Fiction
