literature
Whether written centuries ago or just last year, literary couples show that love is timeless.
The Glass of Confidence
There he was, where he always is. I sit at this bench, day after day, writing, or sometimes pretending to, wondering what he's doing, or also pretending to. He sits there for hours. Watching people walk by, throw a ball with their dogs, fly a kite with their children, and eventually looks up. He stares up into the sky with a feeling of relief rushing over him. He's always adequately dressed but laughs and joins in with the games children play around the park that sits nearby. There's a leather-bound book on his lap, clasped in his hand. He never once opens it, and it makes me wonder if there's anything in fact inside of it. He could be a visual artist. The book's pages are filled with wonderfully depicted illustrations of his day-to-day life. He could be a writer, like me.
By Joannis Rodon5 years ago in Humans
Glasses of Merlot
Cole Davies Glasses of Merlot Dolor was a well-kept man—kept to himself that is. He spent virtually all his time perfecting his craft. After 14 intense years of training, considering, and testing, he earned the title of Doctor—Doctor of Literature—a lofty goal he set for himself at the ripe age of 14, following the completion of a required reading book in the 9th grade, a fantasy about a boy named Milo. But now, he was a teacher.
By Cole Davies5 years ago in Humans
Picture Perfect
Jane waited in fearful expectation, staring at her computer screen. She glanced once more around the room, especially at the bookcase behind her. It had taken her hours to perfect the bookcase: to arrange the books so it would reflect how she was a person of interest and in no way weird. Just the correct number of mementos from holidays abroad and her favourite picture of Toby. Why had he left her? She so missed their long walks together. This time in Lockdown would have been perfect, had he still been alive. They could have used the time she wasn’t wasting, commuting to work, to go on longer walks so he could have had more treats. Maybe, she thought, it was all those treats that had killed him. Either that or old age!
By Niall James Bradley5 years ago in Humans
Stars and Secrets
Lucy stared up at the stars. She had received an encoded message that morning that she would have to go soon. She hadn’t made any real friends this time so she had told herself it wouldn’t be hard to leave the people, but she was going to miss this view. The mountains, stars, and the warmth of the small town, which she supposed came from the people.
By Katie Altman5 years ago in Humans
The Palete
"No, I am headed to Costco's to grab a few things. I will be home in time to catch the show, I promise. I will call you as soon as I am on the way, Charlotte. Text me if you want me to grab anything while I am here. I glove you! Later." Charlotte is Kristen's bestfriend. They have been friends since the age of 10. They went through grade school together, college, graduate school, and now they are roommates in a beautiful condo in Florida. Their 'I glove you' saying started in their freshman year of college when they vowed to always 'Love and Protect' each other, the way a leather glove does a hand. It was cute, cheesy and theirs alone. Just like their friendship.
By CreativeKee5 years ago in Humans
Noble Rot
‘It’s our first date at Main Street Park, and he brought a fancy bottle of merlot. I should be ecstatic, but he doesn’t look half as good in person. It’s one thing that he’s twice my age; it’s a whole other thing that it shows. At least his beard and sunglasses are nice. Most importantly, he’s not from around here. …You’ll put up with anything for an unfamiliar face, Kyle. You—'
By Mr. Rothman W5 years ago in Humans
Wrong Person, Wrong Time
When you experience real love for the first time, you realise how nothing else before it even came close. It feels like the entire world stops spinning and the only thing that matters, is them. Every moment you spend together is bliss, and every parting is sorrow. I have experienced it once before, and although I like to believe that we can have more than one true love in this life, I am still yet to find another. Once you experience real love, you can’t settle for anything less.
By Emma Kolev5 years ago in Humans
Fictional First Date
Even the most experienced house remodeler can be surprised by what the world has to provide it. Tearing apart the 1990s version of a kitchen was more work than she expected. The cabinets were screwed directly into the studs and the electrical was placed in locations that didn't make any sense for the modern kitchen. So instead of just replacing the cabinets, Alex demolished to the studs.
By John Burkholder5 years ago in Humans
The Heart Note
The soft points of the honeybee’s six legs shifting on Kray’s naked shoulder tickled more than she expected. She knew them to be innocuous, as everyone did, and the thought of being stung shouldn’t have crossed her mind, but Kray couldn’t keep her muscles from tensing when it landed on her, though she didn’t try to remove it. Kray worked quickly among the branches of her orange tree, a tree she spent the last year painstakingly covering, fertilizing, and pruning to survive the New York winter. She was competing with the honeybees, floating from bloom to bloom in the low morning sunlight of early April, for the tree's few orange blossoms. Kray had an encompassing view of her backyard. A mass of Jasmine flowers, white as moonlight, wrapped down the iron trellis which rested against the back of her house, greeting the orderly rows of mint beneath with their heady fragrance. The yard was awash with every aromatic flower to be grown in New York’s temperate climate, meticulously planted in a grid, one foot between each. The sourness of fresh mulch and soil, almost fecal, mixed on a breeze with the flowers’ cloying sweetness, was carried to adjacent yards. Kray considered the smell a gift to her neighbors; they did not. This variety of high maintenance foliage was not merely a point of vanity, it supplied Kray with a bank of scents to utilize for creating perfumes, her trade of ten years. Kray reached for another blossom, pinching it at the base then plucking and laying it in a basket with the others before descending the eight wooden rungs resting against the trunk of the orange tree. Kray thought of her father, buried next to her mother behind a quaint Presbyterian church in the blue ridge mountains of Virginia, and the trees she helped him prune on their farm by stabilizing the base of his extendable aluminum ladder. Her left foot was the first to touch the ground. Before the right could catch up, a car horn from beyond the fence surrounding her backyard threw her off balance. She stumbled backward as two flowers fell from her basket into the dewed grass.
By Maddy Johnson5 years ago in Humans
