literature

Whether written centuries ago or just last year, literary couples show that love is timeless.

The "Just One" Rule. Top Story - March 2021.
I have a rule that I live by every day of my life, no matter the circumstances, because I believe it has been the only thing that has given me the life I want. Some actually think I'm crazy...and for what? Because I found something that works for me? If it works, why not do it? I'm not bound to what others think of my methods. My methods work. I will abide by them as long as I continue seeing success.
By Dani Banani5 years ago in Humans
Beloved Toni
Fierce, intelligent, determined queens - Women’s History Month is a meaningful celebration to highlight these pivotal figures. It always excites me. I’ve always been surrounded by women who inspire and motivate me. However, the recent loss of a American writer, Nobel Laureate and overall badass Black woman has left me yearning. Chloe Anthony Wofford Morrison, also known as Toni Morrison, joined the ancestors on August 5th in 2019. Her loss has left a gulf in the writing world, in the intellectual thinking spaces and the African American community as a whole.
By La'Nee Griffin5 years ago in Humans
BUENOS AIRES NIGHTSHADE
Gaetano ruminated the thought of how some plants naturally avoid incest as he pressed the air between the petals and his ample palm, carefully compressing the flower’s randy fragrance into a sigh. Then, he cut through the tropical fog of the vast conservatory with agile steps receiving the bow of the admiring Zingiber, the African flame tree, the Mirabilis, the Hibiscus, the Bombox ceiba, the Passiflora, the Frisia, the Oleander, the Mandragora, the Milkweed and the Belladonna. Hesitated in one step, but out stepped firmly from the warm hydroponics lights stage to the chilled semi-dark outside, the grayed northwestern air of the afternoon was brittle in his potent chest. Deftly, he dialed his cell and talked to Mr. Rubin about the dilapidated shutters on the first floor at the back of the decaying mansion in Belgrano, the important delivery pick up, and their recently departed gardening staff — he could hear Matilda fussing over him the expansive oak room upstairs from where the old man doesn’t descend any longer. After a pause, Gaetano softened his broad lips to a “you too, sir” and snapped shut the device like the Venus flytrap.
By Francisco Ibanez-Carrasco5 years ago in Humans
The Leather Couch
Margo woke up from the heavy knocks coming from the front door. She had forgotten where she was and she was shocked into it too so it made her panic for a moment before focusing on a nearby object. Her father’s desk reminded her of him and it made her remember she was in his home office. She had fallen asleep on the leather couch he had kept in there. It was comfortable enough to sleep on which she found herself doing the last couple of nights. She liked the way the soft leather felt against her skin and she liked the way it smelled like old leather. It soothed her when she needed to be soothed. And so rather than sleep in her own bed she instead decided to draw the curtains to the room until she was in the dark and then rested her head on its arm rest until she was asleep. Doing so reminded her of when her father let her do the same when she was younger, back when she didn’t want to sleep alone, back when she was afraid to do so. Margo remembered her father as he sat behind that big wooden desk in his chair—curtains drawn too so no other light except from the monitor of the computer he would focus on while using the mechanical keyboard he preferred to use over the one that came with the machine. Margo liked it too if only because of the melody its clicking created when her father added or made changes to his work. It was better than any fairy tale read or glasses of warm milk. It gave her peace and it was missed.
By Steve C.5 years ago in Humans
The Last Home
I was never so happy to see a sign in my life. It lit the Montana night in neon brilliance. A much bigger sign than the building under it warranted, but I guess they wanted to make sure you saw it. I had seen the glow from the sign for miles. It was amazing how far light carried out here. I had left Wolf Lodge, Montana a couple of hours back and was looking for a place to bed down for the night. I had planned on sleeping one more night under the Big Sky, watching the Milky Way until I drifted off. Tomorrow, I should be able to make the Washington state line. I was walking along Interstate 90, what the locals called Old Highway 12, and by my GPS, it was about 23 miles to the border.
By Darryl Brooks5 years ago in Humans
Hungry Eyes
The bathroom was filled with the echoing sound of water swirling down the drain. A single drop of blood dropped, mixing with the clear water.
By Shannon Riley5 years ago in Humans
A Sip in the Spotlight
I sit alone, fidgeting uncontrollably as I wait. The restaurant, Bernadino’s, is packed full. The din from the surrounding patrons laughing, gossiping, and sharing details of their day…is deafening. Despite that, I can’t shake the feeling that everyone is staring at me.
By Gena M Beal5 years ago in Humans
Second Chance
Pedro and I grew up together but when he went away for college, we grew distant and no longer kept in touch. He is now an accountant and returned home where he would take control of his dad’s accounting firm. After the many relationships that I had, some how I always thought about Pedro and what life would have been for us if he stayed. He was my best friend at that time but I always wished we were more.
By Ali SP5 years ago in Humans
WHY BLUE JAY HAS SUCH A SCRATCHY VOICE
WHY BLUE JAY HAS SUCH A SCRATCHY VOICE (or, Why Human Beings Should Learn To Guard Their Words) Once long ago, as you well know, Blue Jay had no voice. In those days, she was a lazy mean thieving bird. She stole eggs and nests from other birds, she stole food from other birds, she stole anything she could find to steal. Mercy! She even stole her color from the sky! In the First Times..., she had neglected her First Instructions and hadn't gotten her real song. A day came when she began to wish she could sing. So of course, she looked around for some songs to steal. She would have done it, too, except all birds guard their songs very carefully, only letting them out at just the right times. Other wise, they keep them locked up safe in their feathered breasts. Although Blue Jay tried and tried, she couldn't ever catch a song from another bird.
By William L. Truax III5 years ago in Humans
Gone the Tides of Earth
Late midseason was crisp cold and fresh snowfall blanketed the mountains. All along the roads were levelled by a few inches of powder, remnants of disowned sleeping bags and tents covered ivory like alpine miniatures. Shovelled walkways led the way from the cabin back to the outhouse, to the cellars and there was another that connected with the outpost on the distant side of camp. Trailing them was customary only for the preparations of meals, routine checks, to use the toilet or rarely in the odd case that fresh stationery or candles were required. It gave one a false sense of secondary soldiering in the habituation dugouts that accommodated personnel behind frontline trenches.
By James B. William R. Lawrence5 years ago in Humans
Gone the Tides of Earth
Inertia overcame us in the heated sedan cruising through the clear, crisp coldness of the mountain roads. Nestled up front Cian had dozed off quite fast, incubated in the direct, warming stream of the radiators. In the backseat sat Alci and I, windows rolled down until from the chill could only bear leaving them open a crack. The driver was a trim, middle-aged man with beard stubble and a stern lip; he was in uniform, so were we, although unlike us his lapel boasted the colours of a few commendations.
By James B. William R. Lawrence5 years ago in Humans
Gone the Tides of Earth
The lodging of our mandate was a basic troops’ tent, blue with a white cross ordaining one side, stripes horizontally the other. Three foldouts were inside equipped with twill blankets, one against the backwall, two the sides. Off a notch on the uppermost point of the ceiling hung an LED lantern, and on each cot a nylon pillow, file-folder brimming with contents. Both flaps, outwardly tied back made the interior visible as we came up; finer, bland assignment made better without bitterness of mountains.
By James B. William R. Lawrence5 years ago in Humans