Love

Happily Ever After
The doorbell woke her up with a loud, Bzzzzz. She groaned and rubbed her eyes, then got out of bed. “Who the hell is at my door at this hour,” she mumbled to herself as she stumbled to the door in the dark. With a half-crazed expression, she threw the door open, prepared to curse someone out, but no one was to be found in the hallway outside of her apartment. Her eye started twitching, and she took a moment to slowly inhale and exhale. When she had calmed down, she sighed and opened her eyes to a box at her feet. It was a large package wrapped in brown paper with a twine string holding it all together. There were no markings on it; hence, she was immediately suspicious of it. Ever since she was a kid, she heard stories of instances like this, where a strange package appears out of the blue and it turned out to be a bomb. Well, if I am gonna die, I at least want to see the bomb, she thought. Slowly, she crouched down and gently lifted the box to her ear. She did not hear any ticking, and the box was considerably lighter than what she imagined a bomb to be. She then held it out a little and gave it a shake… Nothing.
By Leann T4 years ago in Fiction
The simple brown package
My doorbell rings pulling me from my thoughts. I open my eyes to the blank screen on my computer. I just can’t find the strength to write the words I need to, or maybe I just have too much to say to fit on the damn blank page. The doorbell rings again.
By Chase Johns4 years ago in Fiction
Yours always,
There’s not much I remember about that summer other than the boy and the shoes. I remember the cicadas were particularly noisy the day I met him. I remember the white blouse with little flowers that I wore until it was stained with dirt and grass. And I remember the marigolds.
By Bella Kulyk 4 years ago in Fiction
The Simple Magic of a Gift Box
Grandma Jo was one of those mysterious people that you didn't know why your lives became so deeply intertwined–they just did. She wasn't related to us or even had a family of her own. My parents didn't share a long history of friendship with her or have connections beyond pure circumstance. It was simple and natural, our pieces fitting together as if our blood did align.
By Flora4 years ago in Fiction
Confession Time
It is all I have dreamed of. I have dreamt this before. This park, that stands before us. Which calls to what feels like just the two of us. Inspiring is its colourful structure, the bright vast and sprawling metal tubes that reach and twist meters long and meters high with things to climb up and things to slide down. We stand together, hand in hand, both just as excited to explore, but where first?
By Katheleen4 years ago in Fiction
Love to Last a Lifetime
A subtle breeze tickles the sheer, white curtains that hang from the patio window causing them to dance lightly on the wooden floor below. The peaceful sound of waves crashing against the rocks streams through the window along with the breeze, providing a gentle song that fills the cozy beach house with tranquility. The oceanic interlude is interrupted by a ringing phone in the background.
By Gelita Mimms4 years ago in Fiction
Sweep It Under the Rug
My eyes are wet and my vision is blurred. Small spheres of liquid salt slip into my mouth. The taste is distinct: tears. I don’t know exactly how long I’ve been crying.
By Jem4 years ago in Fiction
Roleplay
A wrinkled linen dress. A slim faux leather belt. A pair of plastic sunglasses with scratches on the frame. Lastly, a lipstick that seems to be the only unused thing in the package.
By Rae Rorschach4 years ago in Fiction
The Greek Shark
“Mother, you can go to California, but, it’s no place for Elizabeth.” My mother’s protest to my grandmother echoed in my mind as the Skylark turned down a beachfront street. The protests were dismissed. My grandmother was funding my education, after all, and she demanded to spend the summer with me in warm sunshine before I left for college.
By Ashley Maureena 4 years ago in Fiction
Through the Lens
Chapter 1: Iris Her name was Jannie. Jannie Michaels. She was my best friend. Key word, was. Now, I stand beside her younger sister Carley and hold her hand as she sobs beside her parents, watching Jannie’s coffin lower into the cold depths of the Earth. I always knew Jannie and I would be best friends with each other until death, but never did I imagine it would be the winter of sophomore year. She was only 16. The foggy graveyard was nothing but a creepy site of mourning over the terrible loss everyone here had just faced. Even my boyfriend, or shall I say, my ex, bothered to show up and pay his respects on this dreary January morning. This town is small, so word travels fast. The typical community of people who can respect one another while also silently backstabbing them and slitting their throats. Everyone has to be perfect, otherwise they are misfits who struggle to gain any sense of having a “good” reputation. As for those who already have a “good” reputation in town, they will do anything to keep it that way. Of course, this is amongst the teenagers, as for the parents, they are oblivious to this social hierarchy and the injustices their children face in some way because they are wrapped up in battling each other over who has the best child.
By Tate Russell4 years ago in Fiction
Rendezvous at The Marigold and Crown
Rendezvous at the Marigold and Crown She always caught the train before the one she needed to catch because if there was one quality that Grace possessed, it was her pride in not letting others down.
By Gillian Lesley Scott4 years ago in Fiction
The Killing Field
She wasn’t nervous. She didn’t get nervous anymore. The years of lecturing had worn down the fear that she would forget what to say, until it was smooth and polished, like a small marble she could just flick away. It was just the way her hair was pulled up and back from her face tonight, she thought.
By Ruthie4 years ago in Fiction