literature
Whether written centuries ago or just last year, literary couples show that love is timeless.
Fear
My day began intact in its routine: woke up, showered, oral care, and breakfast. The first meal provided us with secretions and carcasses of animals. They told us it was for our “best interest,” so we gorged ourselves and reveled in its galore. It wasn’t until a shard of doubt sunk deep into my wounds that trickles of truth revealed themselves to me. I see it now as it always was, but back then it simply… was.
By Claudia Pacheco5 years ago in Humans
Friend
SW Virginia, 1861 Reginald This is a true story. I am sitting high on a rafter pondering a mouse or snake for dinner when the most dazzling eagle I could ever imagine rips the barn window off, not 5 feet from me. A crack of wood followed by a cold wind, but no crash, no glass. Just hinges creaking against wind.
By Lauren Smith5 years ago in Humans
The Last Time
The man sits in front of a Blank page. The mans name, Jude. Jude has been in this specific moment many times before. The clock marked midnight. That's usually around the time he could begin to work. Anytime before midnight proved to be useless. Most of the time he was able to get a couple of pages in but not a full page. It's why his closest's friends nicknamed him a night owl. Jude begins typing away and just like that an idea began to take form. The next time he would check the clock the time would mark five and he would have written an entire first draft of a short story. He also would remember that he has a lunch with a friend in about eight hours and if he went to bed now he could try to get enough sleep.
By Zully Matute5 years ago in Humans
Night Owl Vigil
I kick open the back door like a UFC fighter, discharging my rage into the inanimate and unfeeling, instead of her. The thud and clatter echoes off the 3rd floor fire-escape, across the back alley, reverberating off of dumpsters and broken bottles, scattering the rats. The door to the apartment building slams shut behind me and the few constellations, not choked or clouded by street lights and Christmas displays, reflect off the still River. Silence slinks back into the slumbering void of beyond 3 AM. If there is a moon out tonight, she’s hiding.
By Erik Vitaglione5 years ago in Humans
Nigh
Nigh I went for a drive to quell the voices in my head. Pounding and pedantic my mind couldn’t imagine life outside of this grueling moment. So many unanswered questions and yet here I was, cracked and mangled in the drivers seat of a 95’ Suzuki riding the night waves of thought patterns stuck in the abyss of broken. No one to turn to, no music to slow down the minds racing, so I turn the radio volume down to a gentle humming of the engine in hopes it would help quiet the internal beating. I couldn’t tell you how long I drove, perhaps longer than even I anticipated, and I suddenly found myself in a strange and foreign place. Where land meets the sea my attention and vision no longer capable of refreshing in the blotting darkness, I turned down a decaying pathway winding its way into a densely packed parkway. I pulled to the nearest curb line killing the dull glare of headlights and undulation engine. “Why am I here”, I thought aloud. “What am I doing?” Thoughts haunted their lonely chorus, and I knew not where the night would lead. A low murmur of electrical motor is all that sounded as the automated windows guided an opening to the outside, and the night’s darkness eased my guilty thoughts; the first moment of peace I had felt all evening. I sat for a long while in the silence, allowing my mind to spring from thought to thought, from slow justification back to feelings. Just then a flash of white caught my eye in the distance, looming about over the trees. It took a long while for my eyes to adjust in the blackness, but once it did what my sight beheld was of pure magic. With wings outstretched and dancing in the sky my eyes locked on the majesty of a white barn owl, pure as snow. It floated overhead, and I gazed upon it in wonderment as it did so. Suddenly as though I were calling to it, the owl banked left and perched itself upon a nearby branch, close enough to touch from where I sat frozen still in the chilled night air. My breath a cacophony of amazement was all that stood between myself and this lonely observer. It looked deep into my eyes, and a wave of fanciful fascination drew in my breath where it held for what felt an eternity. I opened my soul through our gaze and glazed over time in one of the deepest connections I had ever felt with another. Suddenly, and without hesitation the owl dropped down from its peaceful perch, and with a powerful flap of its wingspan took flight once more. Making its way overhead I felt an urge to follow it, as if my owl had called upon me in that moment to go away with it. Closing in on space and time we watched each other, both observing in fascination and wonder the beauty of our shared experience. It flew overhead and vanished slowly from sight back from whence it came. Never question your connection to nature, for it enters without warning and speaks a language you don’t know until you find yourself entranced by its wisdom. In those owls eyes I saw my life; past, present, and future abound. In the darkness there I became the owl, hunting and understanding my place with a quiet strength only this world can teach. My heart palpated in reverence to the transcendent moment I shared with an unchained and wild being. I closed my eyes, and knew then what I had to do.
By Colleen Henehan5 years ago in Humans
