literature

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

Witchfully Yours
I had to wait a couple of days for the pages to dry naturally. And even more to be able to distinguish the strange symbols written in the little black book that I found on that gloomy Sunday morning alongside the dried up benches of River Lee.
By Dorin Dumitrascuta5 years ago in Humans
Wildcard
I’ve been checking my watch for an eternity now and not a single minute has passed. He’s late and he’s with another girl. I’ve never seen Johnathan Franks with the same date twice, this exclusively makes me his bitch. I’m just thankful the rich prick showed up.
By Jake Edward Lange5 years ago in Humans
The Little Black Book
“The Little Black Book” by Cheyenne Brown “Kate, get up! You’re gonna be late for your first day of college!” Mom hollered from the kitchen. I looked at the clock. It was only 7:30 a.m. I didn’t have to be there until 8, and I only live 5 minutes from the college. You know how moms are, though. I rolled my way out of bed and drug my feet to the closet. What should I wear today? Honestly, if it wasn’t for the fact that mom wouldn’t approve, I’d just wear pjs.
By Cheyenne Rhea5 years ago in Humans
A Book of Names
“A concerned citizen just donated twenty-thousand dollars in cash to my effort to recover my Hosaurus. In turn, I’m offering all of it as a reward for its safe return,” Dillard McTeil told the press.
By Skyler Saunders5 years ago in Humans
The Iron Key
Tom contemplated the crumpled five-dollar bill in his hand, weighing its true Saturday-afternoon value carefully. It wasn’t much to make his trip to the Westsider used-bookstore a great one, but he figured that an hour looking through the shelves should get him something worth reading. With the school holidays not yet over, and the New York weather managing to be not too hot, it was a perfect day for sitting in Central Park with a good adventure novel, or maybe a travel-book. Either way it was going to be fun finding out, and the five-dollar limit seemed more of an interesting challenge than a limitation.
By Erl Johnston5 years ago in Humans
Nina lights a candle
Nina followed the toll of the church bell all the way to the heavy iron-latticed doors at the top of the church steps. Each bell toll laying down the soundtrack to her uneasiness. It wasn’t a conscious decision to walk into the church, it was more steps guided by her uneasy, sad subconscious looking for peace and some meaning to the last five difficult hours of her life.
By Anna Dimitrakopoulos5 years ago in Humans
George, The Little Black Book
Perhaps I should not have, but it just sat there, lonely. I picked it up, not of my own volition, really, just because it didn’t seem right to leave it there, new, unused, neglected, abandoned. And now that it was in my hands, what should I do with it? Just open the cover, find the name and return it to its owner. But inside the cover, blank pages gave silent witness to its newness.
By Chris Wildgen5 years ago in Humans
Sunset and Sunrise
She opened the journal, its black leather cover roughened by age, pages worn and thin. She skimmed through it once more, desperately looking for its secrets.
By Ruby Heart5 years ago in Humans
Eloise.
As I inhaled the morning's cool crisp air through my nose, the rise and fall of my chest made my anxieties fall back to the hidden chambers within my deepest self. "Just hit send, Eloise..." I sighed heavily. My fingers crippled up and my heart nearly stopped when at once I slammed my laptop shut without hitting send. Another story not submitted. Another tale not good enough to be told. This was something I had been used to for years, for I was my own worst critic. As I stretched out across my bed reaching in the top drawer of my hopelessly broken side table I pulled out an unlit cigarette. "You promised to quit, young lady.." I murmured repeating my now deceased grandmother, Nona. I struck a match I found mixed within the random nothings atop of my wooden deathtrap; and I lit the end of it knowing very damn well regardless of how she felt about the tobacco death wish she would have more likely joined me for our very first smoke of the day. The first drag has always been crap since she passed. Always. I tried to find words to make myself feel better about this morning's failures but without her I thought the way that I always have since she passed; a way that became second nature so I could survive the pain without her, mindlessly.
By Kimberly Jimenez5 years ago in Humans
A philosophy of the encounter
Encountering the other has been the terms used by philosophers to depict a novel confrontation. This is not necessarily violent, or even an exchange of any sort. It can be as simple as two strangers meeting each other on the street, even if just passing by. An encounter hence, to begin with - is the perception of the other, in some form, through the faculty of the senses. And a true encounter, as I depict it, is reciprocal - it involves the others perception of yourself.
By Arsh K.S5 years ago in Humans
Plan B
Heran had planned to get the car at 8am. It was raining. There was traffic on Atlantic. Truth be told, she stayed in bed an extra thirty minutes, partially tired and slightly due to self-sabotage; a part of her was afraid to go on this solo vacation. It was a feeling that even caught her by surprise. But she commits, because she knows she needs this break.
By SW5 years ago in Humans
The Performance
The day her grandmother was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, Judith lost her journal. It was a black notebook with a soft cover and ivory-colored pages. After searching everywhere – her grandmother’s house, the practice room at school, and the cashier counter at the restaurant where she worked part time – Judith eventually accepted that the notebook was lost. When she told her grandmother, she saw a smile on her grandmother’s face: “Don’t worry, Jude. I will get you another one.”
By Jessica Zong5 years ago in Humans