literature
Whether written centuries ago or just last year, literary couples show that love is timeless.
My Emma
Inspired by Bon Iver's song Blood Bank. The room was filled with people in reclining chairs, their arms rubbed with sterilizer and needles prodding into their veins. I watch as the tubes turn from clear to red as it fills up with blood, filtering it into a plasticized polyvinyl chloride bag. Walking around the room everyone had a different reaction to having their blood drawn. Some were sitting perfectly still watching the blood move from arm to tube, as if they have been doing this all their lives, while others were closing their eyes in disgust towards the crimson liquid that was escaping their veins. A few people were squeezing their fist so hard their knuckles were turning white and the tourniquet look as if it might snap. I tug at my hoodie to cover the bandage in the crook of my arm. Some part of me loved the blood bank. Not in a sadistic way that loved the act of voluntary bleeding – it gave me some strange joy to see that every person bled the same shade of red.
By Lexus Jacobs6 years ago in Humans
The Straight Little Prince
Once upon a time, there lived a straight little Prince in a very cold Kingdom. In the only world he’s ever known, the little Prince lived in the Kingdom of Winter; the coldest, yet most beautiful realm out of all of the surrounding seasonal Empires.
By B Goldberg6 years ago in Humans
Willfully Human: A Novel
There are times I think I could be a photographer. As I waited in the restaurant I tried to convince myself of it, with exotic but generic music sinking from ceiling speakers, and low, warm light providing a real-time filter on bland decor. I spent more time than warranted fixated on a candle. Nothing special. Just a small tea candle in a glass enclosure no more expensive than the candle itself. I shifted my gaze, watching the reflection warp through the cut glass. What held me there wasn't the "light dancing gaily on the walls" or the "life-giving glow as the flame lashed out against the darkness". Nothing poetic at all.
By The Last City6 years ago in Humans
Avenues: Ch. 2
I was twenty-three when I received the keys to my first studio apartment at Three-Forty-Seven Manhattan Avenue. No kid my age could afford such a thing. Especially with a record under my belt. But with Willie’s help at the time, he managed to get my record expunged and forced me to use the certification I gained during my two year stay in jail to get the kind of job that could help me pay the bills. Who knew learning about how to fix computers and shit would come in handy. Of course just fixing broken screens and replacing dead batteries weren’t enough to sustain the rent alone. Willie helped me get into a city program that paid for at least half and the rest I had to cover. Hence where RideShare came in. I’d heard about it one day while grabbing a quick bite to eat downstairs at the corner store and managed to get the details from the store owner who frequently used the ride service. Not too long after that, I was part of the RideShare explosion and picked up passengers from the airport almost every weekend when I wasn’t working at my other job.
By Sharlene Alba6 years ago in Humans
WHERE THE BREEZE LEADS...
Bitter tears rolled down his face, streaking across the blue shirt and ironed black trousers that encompassed his gentle 5 ft 10 in-200 pound body. And she watched him, heart breaking, mind going back to the conversation they had two weeks ago.
By Henrietta Efunnuga6 years ago in Humans
Avenues: Chapter 1
New York City streets had a habit of forcing you to grow up faster than mentally capable and in the end that was the problem wasn’t it? How do you coerce the five year old inside of you not to be afraid of the drug dealer claiming corners on your block, while you’re on the way to school? How do you tell the pre-pubescent teenager use to the second hand smoke from the hallways of the poorly ventilated and maintained housing projects in the hood that you can’t run away from a knife fight because well, you can’t have your manhood questioned now, can we?
By Sharlene Alba6 years ago in Humans
Married To The Sea (Fiction)
Married to the Sea The 60-year-old Dellarae had been to nearly every port in the world, and she loved her sailors, perhaps even a little more than she should. Dellarae had a fondness for those that had bedded down with her, experiencing her warmth and comforts in her cabins while storms and rough seas raged outside. Of all the men that had tasted of her comforts, there was one above them: Warren.
By Leif Gregersen6 years ago in Humans
Stolen Flower, Stolen Heart
Tripping, tumbling goes my heart as I stare at the world in front of me. The flicker from the flame of the the torch making the shadows dance and part of me wishes to dance along with them. The night was dark and deep, the air, crisp and cold. It was the type of night you would be wise to stay inside, but your heart would long to be free. To be in the embrace of the fresh air outside.
By CJ Parsons6 years ago in Humans
