literature
Whether written centuries ago or just last year, literary couples show that love is timeless.
Something Familiar
The iron gray sky threatened rain on the city below. The city’s long steel and concrete fingers reached upward as if ready to embrace the wetness and dance in the winds of the approaching storm. Thunder rumbled in the distance. It was a sort of soothing rumble, not loud, but he could feel it in his feet, its deep vibration was as if the earth were shaking from fear. The wind was stronger this high in the air, pushing against him with invisible force in the opposite direction of the one he wanted to be pushed in. He knows he must do it; he just cannot seem to tilt forward the extra inch it would take to end this harrowing life he so, carelessly thrusted himself into. A little money on this sports game, a little on the next one, and the next one and the next until he is all ‘littled’ out. That’s where he should stop, right? When he has bet all his family’s hard-earned fortune a bit at a time. Take the loss and move on. Sure, it would be tough, but he could do it. No. this is where he knows, he is absolutely, one-hundred-percent sure that he can win all that fortune back on just one game. Then, he would quit. So, he finds somebody to loan him the money, but not just anybody, no, it had to be easy, untraceable. He gets a recommendation, follows it, and meets his future debtor. Sure, the guy looks like he means business, but he is an all-right dude. He makes the whole deal easy and with simple terms. Pay the money back with a, flat, ten-percent interest rate or face the consequences. ‘I don’t like confrontation, my friend,” the man told him in his heavy New York accent, “but I’m not afraid of it either.” With that statement, he would walk away, heavy briefcase in hand, wondering if this was a good idea. He would find out, soon, that it was not. Almost nineteen thousand dollars, gone in one week. Not one penny to show for it. So, he then, finds himself nearly on top of the tallest building in the city. Trying to talk his way out of something he knows he must go through with. He cannot run, they will find him, they will always find him. His next weighted decision is death by suicide or death by ‘consequences’. He does not know what consequences meant in this instance, but he has watched enough movies to know that it probably is not the desired outcome. Now, here he stands, listening to the city below move like nothing has happened, the smell of coming rain pulled through him with every inhale. Wiping the sweat from his palms, he runs his hands across his jacket; somethings there, in his pocket. He pulls out a small black notebook held shut by a black elastic band. Did someone slip it into his pocket? He does not recall being handed a notebook. Confused, he pulls the cover open to reveal a mostly blank first page. MOLESKINE is written in capital letters at the bottom. He flips to the next page. Written in a messy scrawl, in all capital letters are the words, PLEASE DON’T DO IT! YOUR DEBT IS PAID. Could this be true? He thinks. Or is it a trick?
By Frank Gainey5 years ago in Humans
Subtext of a Life
Patricia Lewis is a close friend of isolation. In fact, they go way back. Most would assume the friendship was forged by Patricia herself, considering her occupation and single status, but that wasn’t exactly true. When she was a little girl, she was as sociable as any child. She spent summer days with the kids around the neighborhood. They played jacks, marbles, statues, you name it, she played it. Even when Jimmy Turner, who lived next door, got a pair of boxing gloves for Christmas, she was the first (and only) girl eager to tussle. They each could only wear one glove and since they were Jimmy’s, he got the right mitt. But Pat, who was also right-handed, still gave Jimmy a run for his money with her left hook.
By Ryan Doyle5 years ago in Humans
War No More
Encapsulated Michael is a 19-yr-old college student. He’s a jovial virgin with more integrity than most young men his age. Although he has already met a couple new friends in class, he and his family are new to the neighborhood. He arrives home—just in time to witness a clock on the wall tick ‘five-eighteen’. Though the home is only semi-furnished, everything is in order. This allows a hand-written note on the counter to be noticeable as it seems to be begging for investigation. Michael begins reading.
By R. L. LASTER5 years ago in Humans
The Hidden Treasure
Slowly walking down the dimly lit hallway, this place seemed so familiar, yet so foreign to Jack. This place that used to be home, was now just another house. This place that used to be filled with love and laughter, tears and pain, and all the emotions in between, was now nothing more than a memory of a past that never was, and never will be again.
By Daniel Roddin5 years ago in Humans
Lasseter's Last Dream
Harry Lasseter lies against the rock wall and watches the desert sun set over his empire. He's the richest man in the world. But he's stuffed, and he knows it. Long black shadows stretch across the landscape. He watches them carefully. Sees them creep across the desert floor towards his little cranny in the rock face.
By Craig Cormick5 years ago in Humans
Elegy of a Serendipitous Demise
“Rico, it won’t be the same here without you,” Shawn says in a grievous tone. Rico’s colleague started working at the Manhattan company along with him eight faithful years ago. "I can't believe they are letting you go. It's disgraceful. Where's the loyalty?"
By R. Antonio Matta5 years ago in Humans
Your Name Here
In Which The Book Comes Home With Sue “How much did you pay for this one?” Mitch held the book out, away from his body, fingers barely gripping the cover. Sue looked over to see a small, black, leatherbound book dangling precariously over the dogs’ feeding trough where Mitch had been standing when she walked into the kitchen. She had been to the library book sale that morning, and, as usual, had hauled home several boxes of treasures. Boxes of books and more books to be added to her already overflowing bookshelves. Her dedication to the collection of books was admirable.
By Christine Fox5 years ago in Humans
It Was Meant to Be
We used to come here together, every Sunday after art class. Leaving the swirls of oil on canvas and paintbrushes in linseed oil , I would forget about the beautiful women he painted. Women standing in fields of flowers or kneeling by sparkling springs. Feeling slighted by them he’d reminded me that they were figments of his imagination and nothing to be jealous of.
By Firefliflihi5 years ago in Humans
Synchronicity
Part 1: He He waits for sleep to take him. He feels the passing of time. He knows he will see her again. This way, he is honest with his desires. His dreams are doorways into his soul. He feels her. Every night he can hear her voice, press his body into hers, and merge with her. He looks into her eyes and sees himself. He knows she’s out there. He knows she’s real. He doubts himself often, then convinces himself he’s right. His identity is changing. He’s wanting to become someone else. Correction: he wants to become his highest self. He’s never cared for money, but suddenly feels the need to have it, and save it. He’s always loved his parents but doesn’t want to be responsible for them. He’s always allowed himself to be used for his talents and made a career out of other people’s intentions. He’s more than that. He knows there is a chance that he will never meet her, this siren, this goddess who mysteriously knows all of him. He’s never met her, never even once known anyone that resembled her. It’s always her in his dreams. Always. He is restless. He is passionate and angry and sad and longs for something he cannot name. Bigger than affection, bigger than compatibility, deeper than love, stronger than desire, everything unnamed that dwells inside. He wants all of it. Right now. He has always been alone. Even when he is surrounded by people, he has never known anyone to understand his being like she does. This is torture. He is falling in love with a fantasy. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care. He needs her, this is all he knows. Sleep takes him. He sees her. For these hours, he is home.
By Ahlorah Morgan5 years ago in Humans
A Spot by the Sea
On the corner of 10th and Cherry street there stood a mystery that called to me in my youth. Where many eyes would pass with haste, I spotted something in my unhurried curiosity at the young age of eleven. Behind a row of cottonwoods, if one waited for the wind to blow, you could see the narrow peak of a house, and a single circular window. From the first moment I laid eyes upon it, I was fascinated by it. Its mystery beckoned to me.
By Emily Savannah Brake5 years ago in Humans
