literature
Whether written centuries ago or just last year, literary couples show that love is timeless.
The List
I closed the notebook, its black cover smooth under my calloused hands. Hands which I closely examined, each tiny line a representation of the pain I felt. A thousand tiny cuts. Wounds that never closed. Its not what I wrote about though when I sat cross legged on the floor across from the washing machine. I watched it spin in circles, the clothes soggy and soapy slapping against the clear glass door mesmerizing me into a state of mind where I could detach and make the lists of things I needed to finish before the BIG DAY. I gave myself a solid 6 months to execute them all and once a week I sat with my pen and black notebook, the one that never left my side. Diligently I checked items off my list and made sure I was not forgetting anything. The black ink ran in a few spots where large tear drops had fallen, until the washing machine lulled me back into my detachment. Line one read “fix the car serpentine belt” line two read “have the piano tuned”. Each line dutifully scratched through. All but two lines remained and 4 weeks until all the lines would not matter anymore. The two items left required me to fix the floorboards around the fireplace and that required tools and spending time on my hands and knees; something I was not looking forward to but as I stared into the darkness of the spinning washer, I reminded myself it wouldn’t matter in a few weeks. The pain would go away, the loneliness gone like a ghost in the night, its vapors extinguished. I decided I would start that project first and went to work gathering tools. Each tool a memory of a life I no longer lived. A sharp reminder of music playing and laughter always in the background. If I focused, I could hear my own laughter. See myself head thrown back laughing hysterically calling tools by the wrong names. I ran my fingers over the etching of his initials in the handle; P.W. I wanted to scream out and throw the tool through the picture window, but something snapped me back. I thought of my notebook and regained focus because the only thing that mattered was finishing the list in time. I wiped my face catching a glimpse of it in the mirror hanging above the piano snuggly set next to the fireplace. I saw a ghost. A shell of someone I once knew and couldn’t linger there staring. I spent hours once tracing the lines of my face in the mirror searching for one I recognized. Something, anything that made me who I know I used to be. The floor was uneven, if a marble dropped it would roll to the opposite wall from the fireplace. That was not what needed fixing in this old place. It was the trim around the fireplace that bowed strangely, and from the first day I moved in it bothered me like a dead flower in the middle of a vibrant bouquet. I passed it daily, an uneasy feeling; but always moved to something else. I told myself it was more character which this house had loads of and meant it just needed to be repaired. The new trim was not as heavy but looked like it could substitute and would not bow strangely. As I removed the trim the old nail jutted out quickly like it had already been worked loose or maybe it wanted to be free and was helping itself out. Once the entire piece was removed, I measured the new piece, careful to check several times. It still did not fit. I decided the floorboard, its ancient pine edges swollen from moisture and humidity over generations needed to be sanded. I figured that might have been the cause of the trim bowing out. A quick sanding and I realized there was putty where someone had attempted to fix it before. Possibly they gave up and left it. I grabbed a thin flat head screwdriver and dug into the groove between the floorboards. Two of them felt loose. For a moment I wanted to give up and chuck all the tools. The calmness reminded me that I needed to finish the list. The house had to sell and make as much as possible to carry my kids through college. The board creaked as I worked around it popping it loose. I decided to bring it all the way out and sand it down to make a fit better. With the board out, I saw the runners underneath and a hollow spot. When I looked closer that hollow spot held a canvas bag covered in dust, wrapped around itself. As I pulled, it snagged on a nail so I gave it more force. Suddenly it ripped the canvas sending me ass over elbows onto the floor and something flying over my head. When I sat up, I saw money all over the floor, more than I had ever seen in my life. Some of it banded together and loose bills stuffed into the bag as if someone had been in a hurry. I sat there dumbfounded. Completely disturbed from my detached mental state. I was suddenly present in my body and reached forward to pick up a twenty-dollar bill that felt real. But who would have left this here? I gathered it all stacking it and roughly counting until there were over twenty stacks of cash and still some in the bag. I examined the bag shaking some dust off. An old army green duffle bag, the side torn open, the end still rolled over closed. I stepped back surveying the scene and began counting. I realized there was about twenty thousand dollars in cash. My head was alive with noise. I immediately grabbed my notebook and sat down cross legged in front of the gaping hole in the floor. I ripped out the list page. The one with all but two items crossed off. I crumpled it up repeatedly then threw it into the fireplace. The first two matches would not light, and the voice told me to take it out and continue the list because it was the only thing to do. It told me my kids needed the house to sell for college. It told me I needed the list to get me to the BIG DAY. The third match struck, and a flame rose its sulfur smell burning my nose. Its heat and light mesmerizing and awakening. I turned to view the stacks of money in the empty room.
By Jessica Binkley5 years ago in Humans
Little Black Notebook
It was just a moment. Yet in that moment he knew that he had messed up. “No, no, no, no, NO!-Damnit!” Johnny screamed, looking at the pole that hadn’t been in front of him a moment ago. “Oh my fucking God, WHY!” Hitting the steering wheel, he leaned his head back, slapping his hands onto his face. As if rubbing his eyes would make the whole accident disappear and his car be as it was before. Stepping out of the car into the cold night, he was at least glad that no one else had been on the road. Walking over to the passenger side, he groaned as he surveyed the damage: a huge scrunched dent on the side of his car that was going to be a pain to fix and add a complete set back to his life.
By Maitee Natalia 5 years ago in Humans
Is It Worth It?
“Jump first and build your parachute on the way down” echoed in her head as a sense of dread mixed with a feeling of euphoria swirled through Mary’s body. Sipping her frozen coffee, she wondered if the last seventy-two hours had been worth it. Unguarded by the meticulous planning which usually accompanied every decision, she impulsively quit her unfulfilling job to move halfway across the country. Something about her life didn’t seem quite right, and although it was difficult to articulate exactly why that was, she wanted more out of life than the mediocrity that shadowed a career spent building other people’s dreams. She knew she was beyond the point of returning to her old life, even if her new life wasn’t fully apparent yet.
By Meredith Rivas5 years ago in Humans
How I Met The 99% Luckiest Woman in the World the Evening Before She Was Set to Die
The sun was finally setting for the day. The presence of summer was nearly enough to make me forget about my troubles. Here I was, thirty, unemployed and still asking my mom for rent money. I was about to head back to the apartment to continue job searching when I smelled it. I hurried down the street and turned the corner right into the park. It was two acres long and every inch of it was covered with exciting vendors and chattering people. Tungsten lanterns swung from trees and sparkled off the waters of the reflection pools. White smoke from sizzling food carts steamed into the air. The summer solstice festival. “Come right in sir, come have a seat at my stall,” a grizzled old man shouted. His cheeks were flushed with heat. His stomach was rotund. “Yes, I'm talking to you! You’ve got the look of a man down on his luck, come on over.” As I took a seat he asked, “What’s been bothering you son, is it a woman?”
By Jordan Chanslor5 years ago in Humans
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“I am not broke. I am pre-rich. I am.. pre-rich. I have access to everything that I need. Money? It’s not a problem. Oh you want to know how I can say that with such ease? Well it’s simply because I am abundant. I am prosperous. I am a literal money magnet. Yes, yes, yes. I can see it now, my checking and savings account are growing exponentially.”
By Jasmin Chestnut5 years ago in Humans
Dimner Avenue
“Congratulations Miss Spalding. I’m sorry for your loss.” The lawyer handed Collette a check, a deed and an antique fountain pen she couldn’t get to work. She pulled a plastic ballpoint from her purse and signed the check for $20,000 and the deed to the mansion owned by her late Aunt Aria.
By Ryan Hunter Phillips5 years ago in Humans
London Culling
Unforunately, I missed the deadline for the Little Black Notebook Writing Contest. Here is my late submission: Part 1 Boot up sequence. Initializing. Iconic Mac noise. Open Firefox. Or Safari. Who cares? Same shit, different day. Same saying, different day. Wake up, eat garbage, go to work, be a drone, smile, nod, laugh at the boss’ stupid jokes, go home, eat garbage, consume streaming schlock, sleep. Wash. Rinse. Repeat.
By Aaron Kirby5 years ago in Humans
The Debts That Bind
Charlotte found the diary inside a dryer, one Tuesday when she’d gone to the Laundromat to do her day-off washing. Extracting the small, black, leather-bound book, she’d had no premonitions, simply puzzled why someone would leave a journal inside a dryer — especially such a nice one! As the cover warmed in her hand, she smelled hide tamed by tannins. So odd.
By christianna5 years ago in Humans
