literature
Whether written centuries ago or just last year, literary couples show that love is timeless.
The Magic is Real
Before I was even old enough to know my ABC’s, my heart was filled with all the stories that my mother would read to me. I learned at a very young age that through reading I could escape my reality in this world and enter the imagination of a story writer to go on many adventures. In real life I am a very stationary individual that doesn’t go on a lot of adventures, through reading fantasy literary works I have been to countless places, made an endless number of friends, and have been on my fair share of adventurous journeys.
By Greylee Tynewise4 years ago in Humans
The Eight Tales of Life
Part 1: The Witch The rope was thick and coarse as it dug into her skin. She was bound by the hands to the back of a wooden chair. Her legs were tied up to the legs of the chair. She woke up and felt a jabbing pain in her chest. She knew, even before knowing where she was or what had happened, that she was in serious danger. She jostled around and tried to break free until she realized she was bound to the chair. . She knew she couldn’t possibly have much time left. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to remember what had happened. She was fighting with someone. A man. He was trying to have her publicly killed for being a creature that was ‘ungodly’. She tried to run away, but they found her. It was some group of men. They were all dressed in dark clothes and covered themselves from her. She tried to fight them off, but before she was able to use her powers, one of them struck her on the head. She was knocked unconscious. The ringleader of the group dragged her body to his old barn in the back of his house where he kept his animals. He moved them temporarily to make room for the girl and for her murder . He and the whole town believed she came from hell and should be tortured and killed off as a sign of power against evil. A cruel message that any hellacious creature would be met with the same fate as her if they dared to enter their realm.
By Zoe Andrews4 years ago in Humans
Generational Fruit
My father was a cultist. I don’t remember much from those days, other than this. I remember lying on the torn-up couch in the living room, watching Tom and Jerry on the weekends until I fell asleep. That's when I was at my father’s house, every other weekend. On Saturdays, I wasn’t allowed to sleep on the couch.
By TheWishfulThinker4 years ago in Humans
