literature
Whether written centuries ago or just last year, literary couples show that love is timeless.
Mind the Light
“Fanny, you’d best get that laundry in right away. The pressure’s falling, we’ve got a strong wind, right about 30 knots, and my shoulder aches like the dickens.” There was an urgency in Maizie Wilmott’s disembodied voice emerging from the speaking tube.
By Katy Doran-McNamara5 years ago in Humans
What a Smash!
The next morning the first thing I do, is replace the light bulb in the new pendant light in the void. To my surprise, when I change it, I didn’t need to stand on anything to reach. I twist the old one out and replace it with the new brighter one. I switch it on to see how bright it is. I am happy with the brightness of the new bulb. I turn it off and collect the glass cleaning wipes from the table. I go back to the light, stand underneath it and look up at it. I decide that it would probably be safe for me to stand on a chair while I cleaned it.
By Cassie Ford5 years ago in Humans
Ghost Writer
Long shadows now appearing across the sand, it was getting close to happy hour on our little island oasis. I closed my eyes once again, relaxing into the sensation of the late sun and sea breeze across my faintly sunburnt skin from bathing on the front beach a few longer than planned.
By Eli Johnston5 years ago in Humans
The Island
Adrift again and alone in a rolling ocean, rudderless, and following the tides. The stars moved along the sky at night, and the sun crept from one horizon to the other, making sure to pause overhead and beat down unrelenting with no reprieve. Day after day, night after night, sailing onward at the ocean’s mercy. Little room to move, but enough to get up and manoeuvre around with some relative ease. Everything was wet, from clothes to food, and nothing was safe from the sea’s reach. Apart from adjusting the sail, there was no controlling the little boat’s course, and with no compass or map, there was no way to know where one was apart from the stars at night. Rest, that was it, for, with a little hope, land would eventually be made.
By Andrew Hall5 years ago in Humans
I Don’t Know Him
He came to me in a dream. His warm southern drawl comforted me as I floated through the darkness. I don’t know where he’s from, but I could easily guess Georgia or maybe Texas I wasn’t sure. He was just a voice summoning me to him like a siren to the rocks. His face slowly began to materialize as the light broke through my darkness.
By Mandy Raquel5 years ago in Humans
The Sails of Sorrow
My hands shook in anger; anger towards the alluring ship, anger towards the promising captain, anger towards my overconfident husband, and anger towards the world in only allowing us one option. I gripped the railing just to have an anchoring point, something that could stifle the rage roaring inside.
By Abigail Hult5 years ago in Humans
The Wedding Breakup Chapter 1
Inside an auditorium touched with old charm and bright sunlight, pictures of vibrantly colored, high quality art, hang on white walls. Each one boasts a silver, award winning sticker on the bottom left corner. A long table sits centered on the stage, where four people are seated. Someone stands before the table; a middle aged man with a wild gray-black beard waits as a white folder is viewed. A young woman evaluates the drawings within the folder, flipping through oil works of brown forests, gray nature landscapes, and pale blue oceans. Her expression uninterested as she looks over the plain work. One of the girl's eyebrows arch.
By BrokenDove5 years ago in Humans
Off the Elevator
He stepped off the elevator with purpose as if he had been there before. As he exited to the left, Leon scanned quickly for signs. He saw the room number and discovered he had luckily picked the right direction. His wife was waiting in her hospital room. Leon quietly opened the door and found Janie was sleeping. He went back out to pace the halls.
By Noah Glenn5 years ago in Humans
Bee Story
Harold Taylor was an unkind, self serving and lonely old man who never married. Drunk and drunker, he spent most of his days lost in the bottom of a gin bottle. Surly and sour he had always been but alcoholism had taken his bitterness to a new level. He blamed the world for his plight but could never realize how he wasn’t quite right. No wisdom or discernment was gained over his seventy-two years of evil existence. A man of meager means he survived off of his social security, disability and small pension he received from his factory job of forty years. The house he lived in was his family’s home that he inherited after the death of his father whom he hadn’t spoken a word too the four years prior to his death. The two men had a minor dispute over some tools and so he erased his elderly father from his life.
By Cam Rascoe5 years ago in Humans
