Love
Divine Love
Boom! Boom! Boom! The onomatopoeic sound filled the room, Beckha’s eyes opening slightly whilst her ears adjusted to the echoic noise as she woke. She inhaled deeply, she could smell the mix of lavender and frankincense, that she often had diffusing throughout her bedroom. The gentle smell satisfying Beckha’s nostrils as she drifted into the sensuality of life. Her white silk sheets softly covering her naked body, she felt their love as she playfully rolled from side to side. She giggled and enjoyed the sensual caressing of their silky lustre across her buttocks, she rolled to play a little more, as her smooth skin and the silk collide in sensual wonder. Beckha wondered if that was what spiders felt like with their butts full of silk. Is that what they did when they ran their little legs together as the spun their webs. She stopped mid roll to gaze upon her chairs. As antiques go, the two green velvet chairs each side of the bay window were her favourite pieces. They were the only thing Beckha stayed attached to; everything and everyone else, long gone. She traced each leg with her eyes, caressing the carved wood like a lover in waiting, she knew how they felt, and they always held her beautifully. Beckha pretended sometimes that she was the craftsman, creating such splendour with her decorous hands; how she loved those chairs. Her morning ritual: think of all the beauty she has seen and fill her existence with it, she was always happy, happy all the time, unless of course, if she wasn’t.
By Rebecca Clarkson5 years ago in Fiction
The Barn
It's 1953, and a dozen teenage kids ranging in age from 13 to 17 are sitting inside the old, rust-red, barn. The barn is lined with five California pepper trees that cover the southside of the roof. It is located on a cotton farm in Bakersfield, California.
By Rick Henry Christopher 5 years ago in Fiction
Perchance to Dream
I stood arm in arm with my father beside the willow tree as the breeze picked up and my heart gently sunk. With the sunset pristine, he looked at me with a shimmering glint in his eyes. "I love you, Susan," he said, "I'm so very proud of you, sweetheart." I looked at him for a moment and smiled, then looked away towards the trail of lights that lay before us. Around the corner, the pathway illuminated far greater than that of any starry night, and my love for this moment became undoubtedly absolute. Still, arm in arm, my father and I walked along the sacred path and witnessed the utmost beguiling scene of thought and affection. Fireworks erupting across the lake, violinists performing in such an exquisite style, the townspeople gathered with nothing but smiles, and the cliche but appropriate; white doves emerging as we went onward. It was magnificent, even more so than the sun flaring behind us as it sunk beneath the horizon. I proceeded to hold my father close as we neared the end of our lively course. My dress was still immaculate and glistened as though all of the light that we traversed absorbed into it. I felt majestic, glorious to say the least, and as we approached the doors of the old barn I had once feared, I was now facing them with reverence and a willingness to persist.
By Nathan Fisher5 years ago in Fiction
Just One Night
“Just one night. Just one night…” Jack muttered to himself. He was sitting on a bail of hay and staring into the feedbag he was given with ten dollars in crumpled one dollar bills. Ninety dollars more would follow if he could make it just one night in the old barn. Strips of light from the setting sun pierced the voids between the barn’s wooden slats. Dust filled sunbeams gripped the ground and crept up the wall onto Jack’s black overcoat. Looking down, the pattern reminded him of the jail cell he reluctantly called home for seven and a half years. The thought of his captivity turned his stomach. Reminders of his crime and his time plagued Jack at all hours of the day, but especially at sunset. Perhaps it was the impending darkness taking over the light of the day that set him on edge. The jail cell projection on his chest seemed to mock his efforts to hold fast to the newfound light in his life… his love. His Elanor. She carried his heart and stoked his yearning to… as Judge Hanes put it, “turn his life around, b’fore it was too late.”
By Ryan North5 years ago in Fiction
Donovan's Barn
Trenton and Rachel had moved away from Taftsville 15 years earlier. They had both attended Taftsville High School and after their senior year had moved to the city to attend college. They dated throughout their college years; on one warm spring night Trenton proposed and Rachel eagerly accepted. Though they had married young, they had made a good life for themselves and their two children, twin daughters who were now 12 years old.
By Julie Buchy5 years ago in Fiction
Leaving
I was feeling blue. I decided to take a walk. It was raining, but it was only a light drizzle, and I walked past all the shops in downtown and past the river. I went past the famous Spanish bar and peered inside, hearing the faint sound of boisterous laughter and I saw couples happily sitting together nursing their homemade spun concoctions and cocktails. They famously always had Matador bull fights on all the Flat screens they had in the bar. Old fights, new fights. Fights from years ago.
By Melissa Ingoldsby5 years ago in Fiction
Love Will Last Forever
The barn had changed since she had last seen it. She could remember when it’d been freshly painted red, the paint had gleamed in the sun for days. Her father had joked that you could always tell who snuck out of the dance hall those days since they would always come back with paint on their clothes. Now, even the wood was faded. Had it really been so many years? Even though it had seemed like a blink of an eye, her aching bones reminded her it had been many long years since her days dancing in the barn.
By Keely Huber5 years ago in Fiction
