literature
Whether written centuries ago or just last year, literary couples show that love is timeless.
Bonfire of the Rebels
Late August 1981, and the hot breath of summer was still beating down the back of my neck as I loaded up the 1964 T-bird and headed off to college. I had grasped the grizzly hand of Destiny and decided to join my friends who were two years ahead of me in the Phi Sig fraternity at WTU. It didn't take long upon arrival to ascertain my predicament. My former classmates, Curtis and Walt, had already flunked out, and that just left Ben D. and me. This would have been okay except, not only was Ben disinterested, but also moderately crazy. He had a girlfriend, a temper, and an alcohol problem. One night, after a particularly insane party, the frat house awoke to loud pandemonium. Ben had taken the sword from atop the fireplace mantle and had wrought some destruction on our living room.
By Lana Broussard7 years ago in Humans
A Promise Kept
Rebecca drummed her long fingers against the dark wood, glaring at the row of gentlemen seated across from her. They had been at this current argument for roughly 4 hours now and were no closer to a solution than they had been at the start. Her daughter was not some piece of carpet or a prize pig ready for market, and her temper had nearly reached its limit. Magdalene was nearly 15 and, as of yet, no suitable husband had been found for her. She was a plain and homely girl, taking after her father in all ways, but this was hardly the issue. A son would marry whomever his father decided on, the problem was her dowry. Lord Ranolf had been a good and kind man, but a poor marshal of his lands, leaving Rebecca and their child almost penniless.
By Victoria Tunney7 years ago in Humans
The Scottish Festival Surprise
Eleanor Morgan Dunwythe, a 30-something year old lady, five feet seven inches tall, a few extra pounds, with hazel eyes, auburn hair, fair skin, dressed in a burgundy skirt with a white peasant blouse, and a burgundy vest, walks through the local annual Scottish festival, filled with all different colour tents: white, blue and white striped, brown and white, canvas. The sounds of laughter, negotiating of purchases, tempting offers, and celtic music float on the slight breeze. She is perusing the items for sale or display in the various booths and tents: small statues, incense burners, candle holders, wooden signs, leather goods, bustiers, corsets, skirts, overdresses, children’s items, British food items such as vegemite, marmalade, Yorkshire tea, irn-bru, sgian dubh knives and swords. In one of the tents, she spies a handmade handbag, with a silk daisy on it, and purchases it. In another booth, she is drawn to a silver celtic triquetra necklace and matching bracelet, which she immediately purchases and puts on. As she’s leaving the booth, a six foot tall Scotsman with dark hair, ice blue eyes, and wearing a kilt comes running by and bumps into her, almost knocking her over, but catches her. Their eyes meet and they both feel an almost electric connection. He profusely apologizes and invites her out to dinner. She accepts his invitation and he explains he must first go to his Clan’s tent for a meeting and a commencement dance and would she mind coming along. She agrees, he takes her hand, and she matches his quick pace on the way to his Clan’s tent. People that they pass by look at them curiously and then resume their browsing.
By Emily A Dinwiddie7 years ago in Humans
The Idealists Anonymous Meeting
The hoodies covering everyone's faces as they filed through the door to the community center's basement gave most who came across it a wary feeling about what went on in there every Wednesday night. Occasionally, a brave soul or two ventured in with the crowd and sat down in the circle of chairs situated in the room.
By Alexis Lindberg7 years ago in Humans
Diary of a Dying Girl (Pt. 2)
YOU SAID "YES" TOO QUICKLY. "He proposed." I thought you were joking when you sent that text. My body knew you were serious before my brain did because I started shaking. My palms were sweaty and if I tried to speak I would've stuttered. I'm glad you were nowhere near me. I'm lucky you couldn't see my reaction. You would've seen my panic before you spotted my joy.
By Diary Of A Dying Girl7 years ago in Humans
Embers (Ch. 13)
GISELLE I chose the worst possible time to try and quit alcohol, weed, and cigarettes. The party I was hosting at the old welding factory had grown in body count within the last hour and I had no idea half of them would even show up, much less know they'd be passing around drugs like this was ninety eighty-eight. All of the high school cliques were in the same room, getting wasted, dancing to the same music, embracing the same false freedom that came with drugs and alcohol. It numbed you for the time being of course. But it wasn't a long term solution to the shit we constantly walked around with all day, and every day.
By Sharlene Alba7 years ago in Humans
My Fighter
I didn't want to, but I had to do it. I got a roommate. I love living alone and the idea of my apartment being my hideout from the whole world. But because I want to work part-time so I can focus on school I had to get a roommate in order to buy for my nice apartment. I called my old friend Tommy Conlon and he accepted to be my roommate. So now I wait for him to get here with all his things.
By Gisselle Canales7 years ago in Humans
