Love

Mr. Tucker and the Priest
I’ve heard a lot of people talking about how they wish they could have gotten the chance to grow old. Do you ever wonder if you’ll grow old, when your hair will start to turn gray, or maybe even when your body will start to ache from old age? All of these have already happened to me, but it happens quicker when you’re a dog.
By Hanna Taylor5 years ago in Fiction
Rapunzel Rapunzel let down thy hair
Rapunzel is one of my favorite fairy tales. As a little girl, I recall my great grandmother often saying "Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down thy hair that I may climb without a stair." I visualized what it would be like to have such long thick tresses that an individual could use my hair to climb up a tower. In one book version of the story. I read that the prince said "Rapunzel! Rapunzel! Let down your hair that I may climb thy golden stair". This German fairy tale was recorded by the Brothers Grimm who collected folklore and used their talent to turned what they heard into their own version of the stories.
By Cheryl E Preston5 years ago in Fiction
The End of Us
The emergency sirens howl throughout the city and I can feel it my chest. The rush pulses through my veins and my body is tense as I'm driving through the chaos of the city. The world is on fire and without warning humanity is facing it's immediate doom as an asteroid is about to hit and we say our last goodbyes. The sense of urgency and panic fuels the desert metropolis as well as my own intentions.
By AL5 years ago in Fiction
My Life Before...
I remember about 15 years ago, i was 16 and my first love was in high school and hated my parents for keeping us apart.. His name was R.J, short for Ronald Jr.. he was tall, dark, and handsome, and all the girls wanted him.. And he wanted me.. We fell in love and had plans to marry after high school, have a small family and live happily after all..
By Angela Severin5 years ago in Fiction
Hashtag Dad Jokes
Pitch dark. Black. Empty. Aware only of his existence, Finian floated. Suspended in whatever this was or is or might be, he tried to speak, to yell even. Nothing. His attempts to do anything at all: yell, flail, see, hear - anything that might prove he was something more than this “nothingness” pervading his entire being - proved fruitless, save for a list of failures and falsified theories. It was as if he had ascended to a higher plane of existence, but was the only one who had discovered the process. He could think, but nothing else. So, he did the only thing that was allowed. He let his mind wander through its corridors, back alley ways, into rooms it did not even know it had and then, finally, it made the long trip back to the foyer. Finishing, Finian felt confident - perhaps for the first time since he had awakened - that this was going to be a very long eternity.
By Michael Neuman5 years ago in Fiction
Happiness Man
The funeral was held on a cold Wednesday morning, it was raining. How hypocritical, Yulian thought to himself when sitting at the front, watching the priest reading from the collection of safe passages approved by the State.
By Eleanor Foxtail5 years ago in Fiction
Tani's Torture
Tani sat in her small room listening to music, one of the few joys in her life. The front door slammed shut, her mom must have forgotten her wallet; she had only left for the store 15 minutes ago. The thought was gone as soon as it came, because her mom did not throw whatever was in her path. Her stepdad home already and drunk of course.
By Viltinga Rasytoja5 years ago in Fiction
Population: 111,193,098 Artists. Top Story - June 2021.
The year was 2051. Cities all around the world were ruled by The Basics. The Basics covered 99.9% of the population. And how they dressed, spoke, or what music they listened to, was influenced by the common trend of the time.
By Sandra M5 years ago in Fiction
Hand of Love
The stale, cool light of dusk fell on his hopeful face as The Twin tore the window's tattered curtain away. The world outside was different again today, but not too different. The same broken windows adorned the city walls. The same abandoned cars populated the same scorched streets. The same silent sky bore the same forgiving light of a timeless Sun stuck in endless evening. The same unmoving stone statues of those who listened to Her stood strong, always with their hands hiding their faces. The charred corpses of those who turned Her away all wore the same pristine, twisted, maniacal expression. Dead colors. Always the same, everywhere. Except for one thing. A fresh breath charged into his lungs and filled his heart with new fire when he saw it. Today there was a sliver of green! A new path!
By Amelia Leonhart5 years ago in Fiction
Crossing Paths
Once upon a time in a faraway kingdom, there lived a princess. She was an average-looking princess with pale green eyes and long brown hair. Nothing special. Special were her two younger sisters Amelia and Penelope. They both had striking red hair and bright blue eyes. So it was a shame to the eldest princess Ophelia that she was to be married. For she was not as beautiful as her younger siblings and besides, she had other things she longed to do.
By Kaytlynn Rose5 years ago in Fiction
The Way You Look Tonight
As I sit here, sipping slowly on my classic Old-Fashioned, my mind absently drifts back to the one topic that I don't want to be thinking of. I take another draw from my cocktail and gently replace it on the old oak bar top. Thoughts begin to spin in my mind, following the slow rotation of my drink's ice ball, churning up memories that are painfull to my broken heart. I'm grateful that the drinks are starting to do their job, dulling the sting a little bit. Suddenly, I become aware that my favorite artist is playing on the jukebox, Frank Sinatra. I force my thought away from... her, and tune in to the song. "My kind of town, Chicago is. My kind of people, too..." I love this song. As I concentrate more of the tune, trying to forget the hurt I had unwillingly welcomed into my heart, I look across the smokey pub towards the jukebox sitting in the corner. Faces blur in my vision as my eyes pan over: old, young, beautiful, not-so much. All of which are lost to me once my eyes come to rest on the musicmaker and I am hypnotized by Sinatra's smooth voice and lyrics. "Why I just grin like a clown. It's my kind of town" "This place really is my kind of town," I think to myself. "I've always loved it, with the people and the mellow, but hardworking energy..." My thoughts drift off, finally finding tranquility as the last verse of the song plays in the background. I'm not sure how much time has passed when my conciousness finally wanders back to me. The current song enters nonchalantly into my mind, I don't recognize it. Suddenly, like a shock of lightning, I become aware that my eyes have inadvertently been resting, unfocused, on a beautiful woman across the bar. I quickly look away to break the appearance that my eyes have been glued to her for this unaccounted time. I focus back on the drink in front of me, noticing that the sphere that previously rested in the glass has developed a flat spot on the bottom. I guess I had spaced out longer than I had presumed. I order another drink from the bartender and can't help but steal another glance across the way. Her hair, shiny and flowing like a milk chocolate river, cascading down her shoulders to rest gently on top of her breasts. My eyes slowly trace the silhouette of her face, entranced by her porcelain skin that was softly shadowed in the darkness. The only lit portions of her face are her smooth cheekbones and the crest of her forehead as it gracefully slopes down to her bright caramel eyes. Surely, I have never in my life laid eyes on another woman as beautiful, as captivating, as subtly elegant as she. Just as I'm taking in the piercing golden glow of her eyes, she glances up from her cocktail. Her gaze follows the bartender as he passes by and eventually places my fresh drink in front of me. For reasons beyond my comprehension, the woman's eyes flick up from my glass to my own paltry perception. In that brief moment, time stood still. I quickly and abashedly smile, nod and turn to the bartender tl thank him for the drink. He nods in response as he knowingly glances over at her and then back to me. "Blueberry Mojito." Is all he says to me before he turns and walks back to the kitchen. My confusion sets in as I watch the two-way doors swinging behind him, I hadn't ordered a Blueberry Mojito, nor had he given me one. What could he have meant by that? I absently reach for my drink, and miss, grasping at nothing but air. I turn back to the bit of bar in front of me to realize that he had not placed the glass on my coaster. I roll my eyes at my ignorance of that detail. Just then, I hear a small noise. Was it a laugh? I look back down the bar and catch her gaze again. This time, there is a playful simper gently curling her lips as she regards my blunder before lifting her purple drink to her mouth and drinking lightly from it. The peices fall together after I see her drink. Blueberry Mojito, it's hers! Was I really being that obvious? I try to shake it off, but now it's weighing on me like a full-grown elephant sitting on my shoulders. The next thing I know, I'm taking a deep draw from my fresh old-fashioned and sliding my stool back from my placement. I stand, turn toward the far end of the bar and, with confidence that I don't realize I feel in the moment, approach her just as another Sinatra song plays its introductory verse, "I feel a glow just thinking of you. And the way you look tonight."
By HaydenV5 years ago in Fiction
A Twist in the Road
I'm a very straight forward kind of guy. What's the point of making things complicated when it doesn't have to be. Just follow the straight and narrow and you will get to where you are going. I have followed that belief for sixteen years and so far, it has served me well.
By Glauticus5 years ago in Fiction