literature
Whether written centuries ago or just last year, literary couples show that love is timeless.
Sunshine & Treasure
The sun is slowly setting on another beautiful summer's day at Golden Beach. The waves gently coming to shore. The wind blowing through the trees. When a young woman is seen walking towards the shoreline, as she does every Friday afternoon. You see, after a long work week, she needs this time alone to let go of all the weight that has been placed on her shoulders through the week. Her name is Isabella and my god she is stunning. Long, thick brown hair past her shoulders, that dances in the wind and she wears the same dress each time, pink with white polka dots.
By Eva Slivka5 years ago in Humans
Road Rage
I was just minding my own business that day. It really wasn’t my fault. I’ve told everyone I wasn’t to blame. Let me tell you what happened, get it all out there, on record. I mean, clearly you-coppers aren’t going to believe me, but I’m telling you straight up this is what went down.
By Daryl Benson5 years ago in Humans
The Turning Page
I sit there, staring at it, just like I had been doing for the past hour, and nothing has changed—it’s still a little black book lying on the counter, with an envelope sitting next to it. Not altogether threatening, but it had been on my doorstep when I arrived home from work, my full name on the package label, no return address.
By Ashleigh Cunningham5 years ago in Humans
Living Will
Josh sat down on the old wooden chair. It creaked a little under his solid frame but bore his weight stoically. His one remaining grandmother had chosen to move out of the farmhouse to move in with him and Debra. His twin uncles who ran the farm now had never married and thus had no-one to help look after their mother during the day when she might need a little assistance while they were out busy getting things done in the paddock. Josh, in his forties now and carrying a little more weight than he should was taking what he felt was a well-earned break after a couple of hours shifting some of the heavier items out to the van. Most of the stuff was staying of course but Grandma Lucy had insisted on taking her favourite leather armchair, some crockery, what had to be an antique pure ebony, glass-fronted display cabinet containing a multitude of family photographs and a record player she claimed still worked. Josh had taken the time for a quick cuppa downstairs before opting to tackle the monumental task of packing up all the old lady's library of books. Library was the right word Josh reckoned. The ceiling wasn't all that high up here in the attic. The highest point had to be just slightly above his own modest height of 175 cm. From the roof trees it sloped down sharply to a point only a couple of metres away where there was a single bed, from which presumably you could lay back and stare up at the faded blue paint overhead. There was a narrow cupboard for clothing and a small washstand but the rest of the wall space was taken up with floor to ceiling shelving covered with row upon row of books. Josh was sitting in the only chair with a couple of packing boxes at his feet. "Well," he thought, "better get to it."
By Jeffery Goldthorpe5 years ago in Humans
Little Mysteries
Thirteen year old Axel was convinced that the plane was going to crash. Only a moment before he had been leisurely peddling his bike in solitude along a bright treelined trail. All had been quiet save for the thrumming of cicadas in the surrounding foliage and then he was slamming his brakes in a panic at the sudden sound of the aircraft. He watched the small propellor driven plane skim perilously close to the highest leaves and braced to witness what he imagined would be an imminent and tragic intercourse with the earth. Instead he saw a door on the craft swing open almost directly overhead and a tiny dark object issue forth to plummet through branches like a seed dropped by a bird. The plane ascended away with a diminishing drone, disappearing into the sky almost as suddenly as it had materialized. Compelled by curiosity Axel sought out the object he had seen fall.
By Casey Deane5 years ago in Humans
The Little Black Book
A tornado. At extremely high, destructive speeds. That was the exact metaphor for Rebecca's life. In the past five days, her entire life had flipped upside down, around, and around, and she wasn't sure if she was standing or floating. It started on a Monday. A Monday, unlike any other.
By Caitlin Cannon5 years ago in Humans
Chances
CHANCES You ever get that feeling that something is in your path for a reason! I was walking down Rose street yesterday and a lady was walking and started to walk faster ahead of me. A bag that contained a book fell out of her purse. I got her attention and said “Excuse me lady you just dropped this. She looked me in the eye and said, “it is for your young fella”. Just continue to walk away.
By Denise Dick5 years ago in Humans
Black Book from Hell: How Great
It’s that damn notebook ! Cursed black object of attention. Of all people why did I, me? Of all people find it? Am I the main character in this story or that poor stud with the greatest luck of unluckilyness? Where can I hide it so that no body has to go through this shit other than me. Yes, yet again I sacrificed myself for people who only care for themselves and wouldn’t hesitate to fuck me in the ass with this shitty ass black note book from the chocolate factory below... heated and ever so flowing shit feast rivers of hell or whatever. Ever since I found this garbage of a book, I’ve come into money a measly 20,000$ HA! People would die for some kind of shit like that or sell an organ. Though now I’d sell an organ to figure out how to safely remove this book from my life without harming another. It says in the rule book that “one must pass, to pass.. the passesages of pages, but only without looking up.” What the fuck does that mean?! It feels like an intuitive process like somehow I know the book is fucking with me but also I’m connected to it. The energy is potent and if I really tap into it I can feel an energetic pulsing but only when the book is closed as if every heartbeat is so faint in each individual page that to feel it you’d need to close the book to feel a stronger beat or really tap into a meditate state to feel just one stupid page. I rather make a paper airplane and throw it “down by the river.” As those beautiful sweaty men say during thier routines. For what purpose? Who knows.. serve thier country but I believe we should serve the world as one country... anyways I continue to daze of because to do what I have to do would be against who I am. A gentleman, an empathetic being, a piece of shit, and so much more.. a vaulable piece of shit. Shitty unnoticed gold so covered in shit that no one can see my good deeds to deed them worthy of approval and yet again I must stay hidden within the depths of being a super hero even if people don’t know it as I walk this journey alone as always. I’ve become accustomed to loving myself so maybe it’s all the same no matter what note book.. black, blue, yellow, or fucking rainbow monkey colors with a hint of fuck you. I will do what I always do and persist and figure out this notebook even if I have to live forever with the burden of its secrets. This book... this black book. It’s alive I can feel someone’s energetic body inside so angry like a wild animal stuck inside the dimensions of this book I wonder how it came out to be created? I didn’t initially noticed this feeling only after sleeping and feeling it’s heart beat with mines did I noticed I started to feel these emotions affect me. When I’d go into work I’d come in with purple eyes like my coffee didn’t do it’s job so that I may do my job. An anger that was gradually increasing with every guest that came into the store it’s as if I wanted to react instead of respond and just crack thier silly little FUCKING necks! Ugh! Why? Whhhy?! Am I so angry?! Grinding my teeth almost to a powder almost as if I’m rubbing my gums together in anger promoting new growth of teeth from the violent stimulation of it all. Karen... another Karen! They’re all Karen’s even if they have different names. The book... it’s changing me whoever wrote these checks in the black book of the 20,000 dollars for every day is haunting me as if being cursed by a witch. Is it because I am sensitive to energy? Did I make a nonverbal energetic contract when I decided to consent and submit to the need of the book? 20,000 dollars for life with the checks being dated and signed for the next 600 years. Would checks even exists then? And would money from a check hold value? Why so many years? Why write all that information? This black book has me overthinking everything is it not enough to earn daily on my own? The karma of not earning and valuing the money I have had affected my life. I am alone, no friends, no lover, no family at least ones that would only use me because of this gift and curse. Everyone just wants a piece of the pie though what about a relationship not tainted by the secret I tell of this black book I was fated to find? A book that would take all the attention off of me to straight to its benefits and to be used because of it. Fuck this black note book. I hate it but.. I also love it... it’s the only secure thing that I’ll ever had even after my death nothing like that is guaranteed so maybe I am cursed but if I learn to live with it I don’t have to worry about common concerns till I die. I guess I can keep it till I decide what else to do and for now I’ll just deal with these Karens this whole world of karens. Me vs Karen. Forever.
By Richard Castro5 years ago in Humans
PAY IT FORWARD
PAY IT FORWARD 😃 That’s all that was written in the large black notebook. As I fanned through the pages, I saw that it was written on every page in black marker with thick bold capital letters. PAY IT FORWARD - followed by a smiley face sticker 😀. An imperative that was puzzling when I first picked up the notebook and opened the cover. It became a bit clearer when I found the manila envelope taped to the inside of the back cover of the notebook. I peeled off the tape, lifted the flap, reached in and pulled out 2 stacks of cash. A paper band wrapped the center of each stack with the notation $10,000 handwritten on each. One hundred $100 bills in each pile - $20,000!
By Daniel Mills5 years ago in Humans
