literature
Whether written centuries ago or just last year, literary couples show that love is timeless.
Only for a Little While
TAYLOR I didn’t have any time to plan my departure. I always knew I was going to leave the trailer park one day, but I had planned sometime after graduation when I was 18 and an adult. But as soon as I walked into my family’s trailer and saw the seven empty beer bottles littered around the living room, heard the drunken yelling and crying whimpers, I knew it was time to go. I had to leave and never come back.
By Jossilynn O'Malley7 years ago in Humans
White Rabbit
She sat at the piano and rested the fingertips of her left hand on the smooth white keys; the other tapped the ash of her cigarette into her coffee. The house was silent and the only sound that entered the house was the gentle pitter-patter of the rain outside. The water dotted the cracked open window and collected on the window seat, wetting the cream colored cushions planted upon it.
By Caitlyn Rojas7 years ago in Humans
Electrified
His fingers ran through my hair so smoothly and I could feel his heartbeat quickening. The light in his eyes became brighter as he shifted closer to me in his truck. His lips looked soft and I wanted to kiss them. They were calling out to me... begging for me to make the first move, but I refused. His hand began to follow the line of my face and he leaned in. There was no longer space between us. Chest to chest. Hearts racing. His lips brushed against mine and I leaned into them. It was electrifying the way our lips moved against one another's creating new rhythms I didn’t know were possible. Letting go he moved down my neck kissing and breathing his hot breath onto me. Pulling away he looked back at me. His eyes glowed brighter than the sun.
By Michelle Werbeck7 years ago in Humans
The Art of Becoming (Part I)
Cowardice… indifference… self-deprecation. Ingrid was sat indoors at a café, bohemian in aesthetic more than atmosphere, drinking her overpriced iced chai latte as she tried to understand how she came to be this dull, dry, mediocre excuse for a human being. She decided that it was probably a combination of the three; cowardice being the superior of the vices. She frequented this café; ordered the same drink and stereotyped the employees in her mind as vegans, Instagram poets, ceramists, kombucha brewers, and occasionally someone that looked to be a Renaissance man/woman possessing the knowledge and capacity for all of those things. Ingrid used the phrase generously, the Renaissance being a birthing of new art, literature, and forms of thinking; the current culture produced memes. This was mostly born of bitterness. These people might represent subculture clichés to her, but they exuded free-spirited wild flowers. Ingrid was a wall flower living in her mind wallpapered with what-ifs.
By Margot E. Leidolf7 years ago in Humans
A Rose for You
Another hard day at work and also another day for sadness to hit me. Because of that is why I'm right now walking in the rain. I walk to my job since my apartment is nearby. Whenever it rains it makes me feel even happier to walk in the rain since for some reason it calms me and makes me feel a bit better. Anyways I sometimes wish that I can live a different life than the one I live. Everyday I wake up, get ready for work, get there at 8 AM then leave at 4. I wish my life wouldn't be so terrible.
By Gisselle Canales7 years ago in Humans
I Love You, but I'm Not in Love
I saw her from afar and thought - WOW! she's beautiful! He said hello, and I said hey. the exchange of greetings become more common and less formal. At first I didn't think anything of it, I mean who would want to get to know someone like me
By Ang creatz7 years ago in Humans
Motorcyles and Coffee (Chapter 1)
The first day of my first semester at Columbia State, and I was already beginning to regret my "new school year" resolution to finally, once and for all, kick my caffeine addiction. Allegedly, caffeine has been linked to stunted growth, and I, ever the optimist regarding my own height, was hoping for just a few more inches on top of my already towering 5'2" frame.
By Alice Fletcher7 years ago in Humans
How to Live Hardly—Part Two
Two mornings later, I wake up to my mom calling me upstairs. I live in the basement of our house, which is nothing like people think. I’d tell someone I live in a basement, but they don’t know I mean a dang Drake & Josh style, decked out air-conditioned basement. It’s spacious, I have privacy, and I have decorative control, which means I get the privilege to not decorate at all. Against my mom’s wishes, of course.
By Dylan Dames7 years ago in Humans
How to Live Hardly
I stare at the fog on my front and passenger windows. I want so bad to roll them down and back up, but I know the fog would just collect again and I’d be more annoyed. Stupid condensation. Peering ahead, I see Smoky exit the alleyway in a gray hoodie and sagging jeans. By the time he reaches my car, I’m already getting the words out.
By Dylan Dames7 years ago in Humans
The Last Drink
Jacob Moore sat in the corner of “The Lionheart Pub,” a dingy low-lighted place where people usually ended up when they were at their lowest. He sat there and thought about what had brought him to this point in life, his mistakes, and his troubles. He watched barley registering the people around him when the waitress slammed his drink in front of him. He looked up startled by the sudden noise and looked at the waitress with bloodshot eyes. It was Amber (one more of his mistakes flashed by his eyes). The tall blonde glared at him, her blue eyes were as cold as ice, and stalked away. He watched her go but made no attempt to stop her, it would be pointless to try to apologize and she wouldn’t want to hear his excuses anyway! He took a long swig of the beer she had placed in front of him, spilling some on his blue shirt. He cringed away from the cold feeling and hoped it wouldn’t stain his shirt. She’d given him this shirt, he wanted to take care of it. The way he didn’t take care of the most important thing in his life. The door to the pub opened and he looked up in hope only to be disappointed as he watched to old war vets stumble out in a drunken stupor! “Why would she come to a dump like this,” he despaired. Next time the door opened he didn’t bother to look up, he figured the text he sent her went unread. He was so caught up in his sulking he didn’t notice the woman walking up to him.
By Jessica McGibbon7 years ago in Humans
