literature
Whether written centuries ago or just last year, literary couples show that love is timeless.
The Western Dawn
There was a cloud following in the wake of the fleet when it came, a looming pall the color of a morning thunderhead resting atop a mountain's crown. This was the sign that the day would not be a normal one, that the world was soon to unfold into something we'd never expected. The sun vanished behind that strange cloud, and when it appeared again it was over a land made new.
By Andrew Johnston5 years ago in Humans
Tom From The Dock
I met Tom from the Dock tonight for the first time, and I have a feeling it won't be the last. Tom had to be at least 80 years old, out for a stroll along the wharf in the Charlestown Navy Yard around midnight on a Wednesday. Wasn't sure what to expect at first, an old white haired bearded guy with a paisley blazer and white pants, shambling up the road out of the corner of my eye. Realized he had seen me and corrected his course straight for me, so I knew an interaction was coming.
By Bryan Donoghue5 years ago in Humans
Winds over waves
The waves crashed against the rocks on the small bay where Jenna walked. Fog rolled in off the high tide of the sea, giving the horizon ghostly images rather than crisp sun- drenched glass of the sea. Jenna walked on the rocks every day, on the path created for many years by the worn feet of others looking to the waters for comfort, for solace or for peace. Jenna, herself, hoped to get a glimpse of her grandfather, Elijah, who loved the sea, captained a small fishing boat for many years, and went to rest in the depths of the sea during a major tempest three years before this last horrible year. The miscarriage, then her husband having an affair with his co – worker, then Jack saying that he didn’t love her anymore and wanted a divorce had put a huge hole in her spirit. Her heart felt ripped in two pieces. She was hoping to “feel” her grandfather’s energy as he had been her hero. Her grandfather was a tall, big man with a huge heart. Most often, he caught the fish but ended up giving half away to the poor who lived along the docks and the fish markets. Gramps had a hug for everyone, big and little, male or female with his warm blue eyes dancing in the sun, and his bright smile on his face. Tears ran down Jenna’s face as she stopped to look out to sea, peering out into the waves over to the horizon where the colored prism lights from the sun peering out through the fog, danced across the waters. Jenna looked out longingly through the fog, through the sunlight waves, wishing as she did as a child, to be waiting for Gramps to come in with the boat, wrap her in his arms, to say, “Gramps is here, not a worry in the world, my love. “ As she peered out over the horizon, her heart beating with pain and anguish, but there was no boat to be seen. Jenna knew from her knowledge of years of living near the sea, that the fishing boats tried not to go out when the fog was so dense. Still she stood on the rocky ridges watching the waves, come in, go out, misting her with small bits of water. She turned to go back to her cottage that was nearby on the path back up the rocks and sand. A bit of seaweed tangled around her foot, as if the gods of Neptune were saying to wait just a bit longer. “ don’t leave yet.” As she sat on the slippery rock, to untangle the long green seaweed from her sandal, she looked up to see 2 dolphins not far from shore. The dolphins were at play, singing their mating song. She smiled, then she saw the fishing boat. Far out, at the point where the sky meets the sea, the horizon, her soul leaped with joy as the small fishing boat appeared in her sights. In the midst of the fog, the boat looked as a ghost boat, floating silently on the high waves, tossing the boat around as a toy in the winds. She could make out the small trawler, see the sails, the net dragging in the waters behind, full of fish, but the images on the decks seemed vague, dim, as if the spirits sailed the boat. As suddenly as the vision appeared, the boat sailed into the sun, into the fog and disappeared. Jenna was disappointed. Getting her foot free, she went to have tea and scones by her fireplace in her small cottage where Gramps have spent his life. Gramps had left her the cottage in his will, because he knew she loved the little house and found comfort in its coziness, and her memories. Seashells and aloe vera plants filled her window sills. She drank her tea, standing at the big window by the fireplace, still looking out to the sea, hoping for another glimpse of the boat she had seen. Of course, the men had gone in for the night. She settled by the fire, wrapping herself in the warm flannel shirt her gramps had worn many times. As she fell asleep, she thought of who might own the boat. As she slept, her dreams were filled of Gramps on the ghost boat, sailing again the waters of the ocean he loved.
By Deborah Mills5 years ago in Humans
Love, In the Dark
It is a strange thing to drift for a long time in the certainty of your own death. I’ve been on the deck before when a man was washed overboard in a storm, and to my sensibilities then it was a sharp and sudden cruelty, a stab of horror, and of loss, and then the bitter regret and sorrow and guilt that lingered on afterwards. To my mind he was lost in one instant, and after that instant it was the long and weary slog of grief for a life snatched away.
By J.R. Tobin5 years ago in Humans
Fleeing
The pounding of her feet was nearly as furious as the rain that tried to blind her as she ran. She stumbled over rocks and roots, splashing mud on herself and sometimes tumbling head over heels over the rocky terrain. But she couldn't stop. Stopping would mean failing. Failing would mean death.
By Janis Ross5 years ago in Humans
On Duty
5:15 am; As if slowly emerging out of deep water I begin to hear the repetitive dinging of my alarm gradually getting louder with each ding. I roll over to silence it for 10 more minutes of rest only for it to go off again in what seamed like second later. Reluctantly I roll from the soft warm covers reminding myself it was my last shift for 3 days. But still, my fourth 12 hours shift in a row.
By Courtney Ah Loy5 years ago in Humans
Eye of the Storm
The wind whipped around Gemma’s hair violently, threatening to blind her. Her chest heaves, not from exertion but from excitement, from that feeling of knowing one is doing what they were born to do. The smell of the sea surrounds her and she can feel a slight slosh of water in her boots, a sensation she has become acquainted with. Gemma had only been out to sea for a few short years but the amount of times she had seen land since then could be counted on one hand.
By Laura Catherine5 years ago in Humans
On Stand By
Usually I’m in a cell phone lot. Rows and columns of cars neatly surround me, and it’s almost comforting. I sketch these cars and the things I see in the lot. Sometimes there’s other people. A lot of them are there waiting impatiently. I like to draw their faces, capture the annoyance in the crease between their eyebrows, the bottoms of the whites of their upward-rolled eyes. At first I struggled with making the clean lines that these perfectly parked cars make, considering there’s no ruler here. I only have a fresh number two pencil that never requires sharpening, and stacks of blank, white paper.
By Cassidy Barker5 years ago in Humans
The Dream
The dream had been ongoing for nearly six months, reoccurring at least once a week, but sometimes more. Despite the repetition of it, Tessa didn’t know what the dream meant, but she knew that her subconscious was obviously attempting to make her aware of something. Each time, she awoke in a profuse sweat and immediately tried to jot down specifics about it, but the dream was nearly always identical in nature and no real conclusions were drawn.
By Cindy Calder5 years ago in Humans
