Love
My Favorite Constellation
She gazed at his eyes like she'd looked upon the stars. Charting every constellation. Memorizing every inch of the small, yet magical surface. Her love for him was a concept she hated, but craved. Once she'd seen his eyes, she could only give into her cravings. She spent so much time reaching for the fallen stars, she never thought she'd be the one falling.
By Samuel Courage3 years ago in Fiction
Total Eclipse of The Sun
"And if you go before I, how will I find you?" An older man asks. His wife's reply was anything but simple. "If I shall go before you, I will light your path. If you follow that path you will find me." The old man replies, "And if it's years later?" she says "I will continue to light your path until you are ready." The old man sat on his porch facing the east every morning and the west every evening. Then, one day he got up. His daughter asked, "Where are you going dad?" he replied, "To the moon."
By Steffany Pope3 years ago in Fiction
Wife in Waiting
Brandeis “Brandy” St. Pierre was working diligently over her sewing machine. The ocean breezes and the sound of the surf failed to distract her from her task. She was putting the finishing touches on her daughter’s first communion dress. It was a white cotton dress that would breathe in the tropical heat. The bodice had lace and pearls from her own wedding dress. She attached tulle to a satin wrapped hairband adorned with tiny shells that she had gathered on her honeymoon. Finally, she attached a small plastic comb to keep the veil securely fastened to her daughter’s head. If her husband could not be there in person, for Maria Estella’s first communion, evidence of their love would be. After all, she would be getting her first communion in the same church where she and John had been married.
By Kathryn Labosh3 years ago in Fiction
Intersecting Lines
Two lost lovers meet under the clock at Grand Central Station, the point where x and y come together. The minutes tick by, people pass, trains come and go, but for them, time moves backwards. His smile brings back spring. Her eyes bring back snowy winters. A lost touch, a familiar voice, an unfinished story. The question of what could have been if different choices were made. But tonight, he will get on one train and she on another, headed in opposite directions, as they did years ago, each one, a line, with a definite trajectory, never to intersect again.
By Samantha Parry3 years ago in Fiction
