literature
Whether written centuries ago or just last year, literary couples show that love is timeless.
Gone the Tides of Earth
The game was afoot ever since leaving estate - finally at sundown a great party commenced, festivities of the night turning into a whole different beast. Beforehand, sometime along families, certainly all youths had retired from the field. Those who remained were recruits, drifters, tent-dwellers; mostly a rowdy type of spectator entertaining grand expectations of debauchery, intent on putting dents in the part of brain which processes memory. Evening onward any available meals became sparse, non-perishable, and alcohol grossly expensive. Vendors carted supplies as well; spare bits of cloth, cut into little squares, sold pants, t-shirts to the ratchet and defunct.
By James B. William R. Lawrence5 years ago in Humans
Gone the Tides of Earth
Court had one hers bare, fair-skinned legs propped up, my jacket as blanket merely covering body. I sat on the grassy floor, neck hyperextended back, head rested on the edge to look up at her. Her soft fingers, she played through my hair, whilst puffing slow drags on a cigarette taken from the folder offerings.
By James B. William R. Lawrence5 years ago in Humans
Love at first sight
Vince sat in front of a nearly empty computer screen, eyes fixated on what at first seemed like a simple question, "what would be your ideal first date?". He came across t his same question on a couple other dating apps he tried signing up with, and not unlike the rest, he just couldn't seem to come up with a acceptable answer. Frustration washed across his face as he thought out loud, " I don't know why I keep pretending I'm going to actually finish signing up for these sites, I can never get passed such mind boggling questions," and then he closed out the app.
By Siosiua mafoa5 years ago in Humans
Red Between the Lines
The rain-darkened sky intensified the neon lights prancing across puddles on the pavement. The sizzling of the grandiose marquee was audible from the street. The man slipped the valet a note before surrendering his rumbling chariot to the valet’s keeping. He bounded between the murky voids seeking salvation under the restaurant’s awning. The door attendant looked the man over like a wet dog. The wet overcoat ruined his image temporarily, but he wouldn’t let it ruin the evening. Foreign food would do that.
By Nom de Guerre5 years ago in Humans
Gone the Tides of Earth
Back in the village the crone was hosting a banquet, families had come far and wide to attend. Most people were sickly and deformed, children cried in their mother’s bosoms, malnourished, riddled with leprosy. Adults begged mercy for the young, the elderly passed away in puddles of vile and excrement. A woman, naked and scarred, fumbles her way through the middle of the deathly orgy to the foot of the crone. She is worst of all, everyone else taking pause from their own misery to pay attention hers. At the final second the poor wretch falls at the sandaled feet of the crone; the old pagan takes up a bristly water pouch, cups the defamed girl’s chin in a hand and spurts a line of water into her blistered mouth. Each forlorn disciples’ heart flutters in beats of humility at the crone’s good, decent human grace, she raises the wretched girl up from under the shoulders to lift her afoot:
By James B. William R. Lawrence5 years ago in Humans
Gone the Tides of Earth
That same very beach before greeting the dawn, the blue sky evenly lit o’er its soft, cool sands. Gentle tide rolled in, in crevices of each wave dazzled the whitish light and thence undulated upon the shore where scale-esque formations, hard and firm underfoot ceased at the brink, an intimate kiss unto the moist beginnings of golden respite. Alas simply, with surety enough I didn’t care to leave out from there, those soothing waters of the Aegean, yet to wade the ways I still had to go on towards dusk would require pain - afoot on dryland I’d glide along at a better pace. Anyways then there will have been more time for it, going that way by the end of it all.
By James B. William R. Lawrence5 years ago in Humans
Gone the Tides of Earth
Through the night I held her there, she lay in my arms, a scent of wood and lavender mingled in the air. In damp under the covers lying together felt nice, cool, a transparency awoke of the senses the way that all things become clarified after. Gently, she touched my arm, ‘Do you think the others will be coming in soon?’
By James B. William R. Lawrence5 years ago in Humans
Gone the Tides of Earth
In the beginnings of autumn, we were stationed at an alpine post deposited in the northwestern range of Hellenic Macedonia. Its main function was as supply department, fueling station and stopover encampment accommodating soldiers between movements, those headed to the lines at the garrisons and others who arrived southbound from duty for rest. Therefore, it was mostly like what trading posts of old came to be, for settlers and natives in the early incarnation of the Americas.
By James B. William R. Lawrence5 years ago in Humans
Three-Way
He wiped the thin film of sweat that had formed on his twitchy palm across the upper thigh of his navy-blue jeans. He was stood outside the bar smoking a guilty cigarette. By every metric, the evening was going well, except for the ringing phone in his hand. He didn’t know if he wanted to answer it, much less what to say if he did.
By Dec Cochran5 years ago in Humans
‘Merlot’ From NC
As a simple and uncomplicated black man from the Outer Banks of North Carolina, my unexpected career opportunity in London, England was frightening. Yet, that being said, still a beautifully explorational process to explore. See, ever since I was a child, ‘knee-high’ to a grasshopper, I fixated with the idea of once in my lifetime visiting, ‘The Big Smoke’. I longed to hear ‘proper’ English spoken the way it was designed to be approached into the ear cavity. I dreamt of devouring ‘fish and chips’, in a newspaper, by the River Thames. Now, as a fairly young man, not only am I getting that chance to visit this ‘gem of a city’, I have also acquired the opportunity to work and reside here as well. And now that I am a little older than that ‘dreaming kid’, I may even partake in a hefty pint of beer, to accompany my ‘street food’ by the river? My arrival at Heathrow airport was hectic to say the least. Never in my life have I ever been to a city so grand and I must also be completely frank with you; never in my life have I even witnessed a subway system, and now I find myself hopelessly and clumsily trying to navigate this elaborate system alone, with a plethora of Samsonite bags. (Later, I would find out from someone that arriving at Heathrow airport was much less of a hectic struggle than the further away, Gatwick airport.) Nevertheless, I found my way to my small, yet, stylish ‘flat’ near Trafalgar Square, in central London. I was greeted by a ‘smartly’ dressed doorman. (And yes, as luck would have it, I lived but only a minute walk from my apartment to my beloved river below!). Greeted by the doorman, he says, “ It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Frankfort. Here are your keys to your new ‘flat’. Would you care for any help with your bags, sir ”? I answered him puzzled.... “ How did you know my name and who I was? “ He answered back in a deep British accent, “ Sir, this building is own by your company and 100% of the tenants in this building are occupied by your corporation’s counterparts. It is my job to know every face and name of each individual residing here and to make sure that each person is provided for adequately. And if there is anything you need, do not hesitate to ask.” I replied gratefully, “ Ok, I appreciate that, but I am just going to go upstairs and rest a bit....but, thank you.” As I was tirelessly inching toward the elevator, the doorman briskly walks up to me from behind and utters, “ By the way, sir, forgive me, but I forgot to give you this letter and a bottle of perfectly-aged merlot left for you. I replied, “ Kool, probably just a ‘welcome gift’ from the corporation or something, thanks? ” As I made my way into my apartment, I gazed out of my window at the perfect view of the River Thames. As I sat down and placed the bottle of wine on the counter, I glanced at the letter. It read, ‘ Welcome to London, ‘Merlot’. You not only have you followed your dream and claimed it, you have surpassed ever aspect of this said dream. This was a dream that most could not even fanthom coming from a tiny city on the Outer Banks of North Carolina. Someone as beautifully, ‘dark and smooth’ as a merlot, should only sip on the best of such. After you freshen up, meet me downstairs at the bar with the bottle of wine, I will posses the wine glasses for us to drink and ‘catch up’. I will be anticipatingly waiting on your presence, ‘Merlot’❤️ ‘. Now, two things that you may not know about me, is that I don’t know a soul in this city and most importantly, the nickname given to me by my much older cousins, as that kid dreaming of a life in London, was affectionately known as, ‘Merlot’. ( This was because of the dark rich complexion of my skin. Only someone from my neighborhood would know of this nickname? ) So, I hurriedly showered, dressed and gotten on an elevator to the bottom floor. At the entrance of the door of the bar downstairs, wearing my favorite black suit, I grasped this great bottle of wine and the notion of whom this could be? Then, right there, at the end of the bar with two wine glasses, sat ‘Monica’, my very first ‘crush’ in middle school. She looked beautiful as ever and smiled seductively as she said, “Good evening, ‘Merlot’. I guess that you are wondering what I may be doing here in London? I know that it has been a considerable amount of time, since we communicated with each other last. But, when I ran across your name and picture on your resumé, I had to have your talent and friendship on my team. I have lived here in London for quite some time and to have someone that I care for from home, here on my team, would be an absolute blessing.” Still confused, yet pleasantly surprised by this meeting, I asked, “ Monica, wow.... I really missed you and where have you been all of these years? Wait... and how did you come across my resumé ? ” She smiled even bigger as she answered, “ Well, I am not the CEO of the company, but I have a little pull here. Two things, that bottle of Merlot that you are holding in your hand, is not only made by the company that you work for, but it is partly owned by me. Strangely enough, I too had desired dreams of far away lands. I am the ‘majority’ stockholder of the company, ‘Merlot’.” Winking at me she says, “ So, why don’t you have a seat next to me, find us a corkscrew and let’s drink, catch up and celebrate? ” I asked her jokingly, “ Is this finally going to be considered our ‘first date’ or is ‘fraternizing’ not allowed in the company? ” She replied as she grab my hand, “ I own the company, ‘Merlot’, so, we can call this whatever we like and I would love the idea of this being considered our first date. I missed you deeply ”. I just shook my head, realizing that the world is much smaller than we know.....and unfathomable dreams can actually become reality.....if you just believe in the ‘dark richness’ of it all.
By Tyronn Rahda Monroe5 years ago in Humans
Dream man in LaLa land
I was on the best vacation of my life, a week with my best friend Melissa, in the city of angels. To say I was fascinated by the rich and famous would be an understatement. My dream was to become a writer and live happily ever after in California. Melissa, was a tall platinum blonde model with lots of connections and friends in the industry. So to my great delight, she was asked on a date by a very famous movie star, Tom Diaz and as the loyal loving friend she was, she asked him to bring a guy for me.
By Samantha Durnil5 years ago in Humans
