love
All you need is Love, and Love is all you need.
Some Words to a Girl
So here are all the basics you should probably know before reading. First things first: I've never dated anyone. I've never been in a relationship. I've never felt loved by anyone other than relatives. And I've never taken much interest in girls.
By Steven Dormer8 years ago in Humans
Haunted
She sat before the large, opened casket as tears slowly streamed down her face. He lie still, his hands folded over his stomach and his eyes closed. She watched him cautiously, waiting to see the steady rise and fall of his chest. He's not breathing, Amelia, she thought to herself. He's dead. Her mother wrapped her arm around her waist and heaved a sigh as she rested her head on her mother's shoulder and closed her eyes.
By Allison Downs8 years ago in Humans
A Chance Encounter - Part 2
After about an hour of driving we finally made it to the convention center downtown. We parked in the lot closest to the entrance and headed inside. “Wow! Can you believe we’re actually here?!” Kaitlyn’s excitement was starting to be contagious. I felt like I just might enjoy the day after all. “Kait, where is Jack’s meet & greet?” Abbie asked.
By Jennifer Fayn8 years ago in Humans
Seasonable
With leaves falling everywhere and the wind getting sharper, I tend to think of him more. Snow and all its different variations, sugar with a little coffee and cream, checkered pajama bottoms, all of it ties back to him. I tell myself yearly that I have to let him go, that he can't consume my thoughts every day of every season. But it seems the only freedom I have from him is the summer.
By Abigail manes8 years ago in Humans
The “Love Is” Checklist
Everyone seems to think that love is super complicated, that it’s this mystery no one has been able to solve. The truth is, it’s not complicated at all. Whether it’s a friendship, a romantic relationship, or a family thing, here is a checklist to help you figure out this crazy thing called Love.
By Angel Gatchell8 years ago in Humans
Colorless
The flowers died on Monday. The nurses tried to take them away, but I wouldn’t let them. How could I? He brought them for me. He knew how dark and lonely this room had become for me. He knew I was feeling low. So he brought me a little something to make me smile.
By Rhea Jones8 years ago in Humans
A Chance Encounter - Part 1
Months had passed since his funeral. The furthest I had attempted to venture out of my house was work. I sheltered myself from the outside world, hoping that the pain would slowly disappear and I could just move on with my life. Every offer to go out scared me; I turned into a hermit and was becoming more and more comfortable with never seeing another human being again. I guess it was just a defense mechanism. I never used to be like-well, no, I was, but not to the same extent. My anxiety always kept me a little on edge about the world around me, but this, this was on a whole different level.
By Jennifer Fayn8 years ago in Humans
Short Story: Paula
Paula fell deeply in love with David the first time they met in that tiny church in Roanoke, Virginia. Neither of them wished to be there. Paula's stern, pious grandmother and David's preacher father had caused them years of lost Sundays in back breaking pews, kneeling uncomfortably on plaid carpets as they spent more time pondering the gothic architecture of the church than listening to David's fathers stultifying sermons. When they weren't pondering the carpets or the cast iron spires and strange, almost chiaroscuro lighting, they were bonding over their mutual distaste for most other forms of life.
By Sean Patrick8 years ago in Humans
After Him
He opens the windowed door as silently as possible. We know what happens if we get caught and we have no desire to ruin our last year. The chill of a November night bites at our cheeks and noses. The cold is getting worse; winter is getting hauntingly closer. He smiles at me over his shoulder, a big toothy grin that confirms what I already knew: we were golden. I hold the rough, polyester curtain back so that he can walk through the doorway. I can barely see him once he enters the darkness of the backyard. I take the door from him and my hand brushes his. I ignore it and step trustingly into the nighttime after him. The wind pierces through my sweatpants and my leggings. I shiver before I turn to close the door slowly. I press down on the handle so that it doesn’t make the metallic click when it slots into place. When I spin back around, he is already halfway to the stairs. I follow him slowly. This isn’t the first time we’ve done this; it’s become a weekly occurrence, but it still feels risky every time. My boots shuffle along the light pink boards of the deck and I weave around the glass table, making sure that I don’t collide with anything. As the wind picks up, I pull my fleece blanket tighter around my body. He’s already at the bottom of the steps leading to the soft grass. I follow him at a steady pace, trying to be as quiet as possible. He waits for me in front of the towering pine trees that create a barrier between us and the neighbor’s yard. We had cut a rough path through the branches a few weeks ago. We were taking down the gazebo on the deck for winter and he grumbled about always hitting his head on the low-hanging branches. I told him that it wouldn’t be a problem if he was a normal height. I helped him cut them anyways. We shuffle in the dark through the tunnel, making our way towards the side of the house. His silhouette dwarfs my own, making this an exercise in trust. I could not see over him and so I followed him wordlessly. The emergency lamp on the side of the house flips on, creating a harsh, blinding light that forces us to pause before continuing towards our destination. We reach the empty space lined with pine needles and evidence of our previous encounters. He grabs two of the four milk crates that line the pastel green plastic siding of the ranch house. One is handed to me and we place them so that I can face him and he sets an industrial camping lantern between us. We only ever turn it on if the emergency lamp shuts off. It never does. It’s more a precaution than anything, but it makes us feel safer. He removes his backpack and the acrid smell of weekends past emanates from the bright blue drawstring bag. He grins up at me, not like his previous smile. This one is suggestive. He knows what we’re about to do. He knows I love what we do. He removes the grey toiletry bag from his backpack and unzips it. We throw caution to the wind every night we do this and it exhilarates me.
By Cameron Erickson8 years ago in Humans
