Love
Why Waste Good Beer?
Why Waste Good Beer? Sometimes, for no apparent reason and completely without warning, a picture comes into my mind. I am reading a book, The Strange Case of Doctor Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, and suddenly, I see myself from above, the ceiling perhaps, in my granny glasses, reading out loud to George. We are both quite grey. I am kneeling on the carpet by his slippered feet and I place my head on his lap and I feel his broad hand stroking my hair so gently and with such affection, that I want to cry. But it is not real. And I awake from the daydream with a start, several paragraphs down the page, Robert Louis Stevenson’s words quite lost to me, even though his writing is flawless.
By Janice Garden Macdonald4 years ago in Fiction
Where Tomorrow Begins
I knew her while I was still in my adolescent years, lacking any concrete motivations or the will to express any of my true desires. However, I will be the first to mention my hazy interest in seeing what she would look like as the years passed and her face started to age soft features into ones of maturity. I still had no idea what that feeling was, or what I wanted to do with it. Amidst the changes to everything about my life; my body, my face, and my sexual urges - all of it seemed to revolve around the one consistent thing in my life, Claire. We kissed once...It was after one of those poorly put together end-of-the-year festivals during our junior high years, but I remember it so vividly.
By Adonis Rosemont4 years ago in Fiction
The Pair Tree
The sun rises lazily up and over the morning horizon, dewy grass aflame with its orange and yellow reflections, the lake glistening in the early morning light, wisps of steam rising from its surface. A hollow log echoes the songs of a matched pair of frogs, their voices joining with the crickets and songbirds to create a morning concerto. The fragrance of honeysuckle perfumes the heavy, early morning air.
By Chris Weppler 4 years ago in Fiction
Elena's dilemma | A struggling Miami artist finds her inspiration in a $1 bargain painting
“Who on earth would buy this?” I thought while rummaging through a stack of old paintings. I worked in this thrift store myself as a cashier for the last three months in a desperate attempt to make rent money.
By Irina Patterson4 years ago in Fiction
An Alternative Beginning
The morning sun kissed their naked bodies, gently baking their soft skin, as they enjoyed the last of their sleep underneath the blossom. Eve awoke first. She sat up, yawned, and stretched her arms high above her head. She must have jostled Adam in the process, for he was not far behind, dragging his mind from his dreamworld into their reality.
By Lloyd Blunden4 years ago in Fiction
Under the Pear Tree
This season is one of the warmest I can remember; the sun is hot overhead, beating down on the trees and grass, making them wilt slightly. Normally so vibrant, the leaves have lost some of their lustre and become dull in the August heat. Now and then a light breeze eases some of the heat, cool enough to dry the sweat on my forehead. I’m glad I tied my hair up today.
By Jessica Gordon4 years ago in Fiction
Trees We Lay Amongst
It was a large orchard; the pear trees scraped against the sky and velvet white petals blanketed the ground. In February, petals took to the wind and traveled towards his house, crevicing themselves in his windowsill, slowly rotting as February turned into May. May would ripen the pears, gold and green teardrops heavy on the tree's limbs. The pear trees grew in rows, blurred rows. Their long branches reached to greet the sky, to kiss the searing California sun. Now the steady trunks of the trees were reduced to black and withered bark, scorched by fire. A thinned charred pear orchard.
By Sloan Glover4 years ago in Fiction
