literature
Whether written centuries ago or just last year, literary couples show that love is timeless.
Uncovering True Love
I had just touched the rim of my Merlot glass to my lips when the doorbell rang. "He's finally here," I thought to myself as I set my glass down on the end table next to my books. I hadn't been this excited in months; my belly effervesced with anticipation as I headed toward the front door.
By Gabrielle Neavin5 years ago in Humans
Dear Maya and Toni
Dear Dr. Maya Angelou and Ms. Toni Morrison: I imagine that, in your places of rest, you’re unburdened of the tragedies and injustices of the living world. I imagine you’re sleeping peacefully under the stars. I imagine your days are full of laughter, food that edifies your bodies and souls, passionate discussion, and art. If you’ll indulge me I hope you’ll read the letters that I’ve written to both of you.
By Takeia R. Johnson5 years ago in Humans
Goodnight, Beverly
I discovered the public library at the age of six. I had already been introduced to the school library, which was certainly impressive to a youngster who would rather read than play, but the public library was something far beyond my little-girl expectations.
By Paula Shablo5 years ago in Humans
I Died to Myself
I knew there was a life breathed within me. I was led to such truth in the perceived highs of my life. Status held in corporate America, good education, good income, highly desired and respectable career, a home I lived in a neighborhood I loved, time, freedom. Those highs can actually be the lows when you're digging deep to find something inside, seeking to capture the worldly things becomes so shallow. Though I was always in tune with the creation and that still small voice within, it led me to another way, a deeper one that blessed me with more intimacy and love for and from the life within me. I was drawn near to the deeper parts inside myself, my heart was ravished, my soul was watered, as I listened to that still small voice inside. I was disciplined and taught obedience. I learned to listen, hear, and follow the still small voice, the yearning heart, and that gut instinct.
By Faith Ann Coates5 years ago in Humans
Reunited
Eleanore awoke with a slight start as a coarse but gentle hand settled on her cheek. Her eyes fluttered open to see a dark and handsome young man sitting by her bedside, his black curls poking out from under his top hat and the golden chain of his pocket watch trailing across his vest.
By Stephanie Nielsen5 years ago in Humans
Blue Eyes
He sat in the black leather chair, indents of time, and worn-out arms held his. His face was similar to the cracks in the leather, diminished by age and whiskey. He had led a hard life, been alone for much of it. But, today, he was not alone. Today he was surrounded by thoughts. Thoughts he couldn't escape. He squinted to forget, wrinkling his face further. Tears edged out of the corners of his blue eyes. The old man's sad yet enticing eyes. He'd been married once, and those eyes were the inception. Those eyes looked around the room full of books and not much else. Those eyes came to the table, where a revolver lay. He held his eyes on the revolver, those blue eyes dull against the harsh metal. Next to the revolver a picture, himself, a younger man, and a woman with a baby. The couple seemed untroubled. He clutched the picture—a knock at the door. Totally enraptured into the picture, he didn't hear. The knock comes again. This time he answered, "Come in." A man tall and slender, dressed all in black, slinked into the room. The slender man spoke eloquently, in not quite a holy way, "I understand you have something for me?" The man again enraptured in the picture. The slender man impatiently, "Do you have something for me or not?" The old man muttered, "Have I not called you to me?" The old man stood from his leather encasing, his imprint still lingering, and walked over to a bookshelf. From the shelf, he plucked a little black notebook. Opening the notebook, the old man thumbed through till he found the page he was looking for. "Here, on this page, it spells everything out," handing the notebook to the slender man. The slender man's eyes breeze through the words and then stop. Squinting, the slender man rereads a line, then looks bluntly at the old man. "Are you even sure she's still alive?" questioned the slender man. Not appreciating the tone, the old man bluntly responded, "Don't be ridiculous; why else would I have this done?" Pulling from within his jacket a piece of paper, the slender man hands it over, "I'll need this signed for proof." The old man inspects it, his eyes land at the end, he looks off into the distance and tears well.
By Tyler David Sutton5 years ago in Humans
The Mask
Mask: a covering for all or part of a face, worn as a disguise, or to amuse or terrify others; disguise The visual jagged lines and penetrating noise on the TV screen screamed at him. The piercing sound of the static and the visual snow made him cringe as he continued to get ready to leave his torturous dwelling…..
By Elaine M. Gallagher5 years ago in Humans
