literature
Whether written centuries ago or just last year, literary couples show that love is timeless.
My Experience
Today, I want to talk about something I don't tend to share with people. Most of you who are regular readers of my internet soap-boxes already know that there is an interest and an understanding of religious issues that have shaped our political discourse of the day. Granted, I'm on record as being against having religion mixed up with politics. I DON'T think they are two great tastes that taste great together. I think that religion is an intensely private and deeply personal thing, and not supposed to be tribalistic movement which is steered by deeply cynical jerks with carrot and stick.
By Pete Sears8 years ago in Humans
The Nasturtiums
I was painting a vein when my husband entered my studio, told me he loved another, and left me. Anyone who has ever painted flowers and leaves knows how much to paint a vein is a delicate operation that cannot be interrupted. We use an extremely fine brush, barely soaked in a creamy white. We take a breath to avoid any tremor, and we trace the vein in one light line that we hope is successful. So I finished my vein, rinsed my brush, wiped it carefully with a slight rotation so that the tip kept its sharpness, put it in its holder, and looked up. My husband, of course, did not wait for me. He had gone noiselessly, closing the door gently. I leaned on the back of the chair and began to think.
By Amelia Arzod8 years ago in Humans
Lucky Ones
Running, running, running. People fly past me in a blur. My black curls cascading out behind me. There's almost an excitement that entices you to feel as though you are a child running from the monsters in your nightmares. Although for me now, those monsters are very real. The only difference is that it's in the shape of a Dictator. I can see the blurred outlines of Swatikas on the uniforms of Aryan children. However, I am not considered an Aryan, despite what it may say on my papers. Does loving an Aryan count for anything? And he loves me? I can't focus on what is soon to be behind me.
By Alicia Clewes8 years ago in Humans
Westwood and Fifth
There was once a boy. And this boy had something special. I never knew his name. My friends and I called him Jim because he looked like a blonde Jimmy Page. Only our Jim didn’t go out on stage and perform incredible guitar solos or wear tattered leather. Our Jim was quiet and barely even there. He was like a single spark in the midst of flames.
By Cassandra Perez8 years ago in Humans
Damaged: Part 2
Will woke up alone in his room to a deadly silence. So many mornings he'd woken up in Sergio's arms, feeling his warm body and listening to his heartbeat pounding away. Now, it was just cold and quiet. It was deafening, the stillness in the air; as if he were stuck inside a vacuum with nothing but dead space. A feeling of deep discomfort overcame him, feeling as if he was the only person left in the world. Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing, being all alone. The quiet stillness of his bedroom was so lonely it seemed as if he were stuck in some kind of dream or floating in limbo somewhere between the real world and his imagination. He laid in his bed staring up at the ceiling hoping he'd never have to move again. The mere thought of rising out of bed and doing something was exhausting and even sickening. He grabs his phone to check the time and sees he's missed some calls from Jessica. Ugh, he thought. Certainly by now she had heard what happened with Sergio the night before. She's trying to be his friend and provide comfort and support for him, he knew that, but it seemed impossible to talk to her at this time. He wanted to be alone and forgotten, if just for the day.
By Andoni De Las Rivas8 years ago in Humans
Damaged
On a hot summer night, Will and Sergio sat next to each other in the backyard, staring up at the sky looking up at the stars. It had been an amazing summer for them both, having enjoyed an adventure of a lifetime together. But all good things come to an end, and Will was staring right at the end of this wondrous adventure as Sergio found himself looking for the next one. Will had known it wouldn't last. They had all told him it wouldn't end well, his friends, even his mom warned him. He didn't care, however. He was just head over heels infatuated with Sergio and his cute romantic gestures, that Will decidedly disregarded every red flag. Like how Sergio never said he loved Will even though Will told him early on that was how he felt. He was so swept up in the romance, the fun trips to scenic places, adorable picnic dates, or the way Sergio would wrap him up in a warm hug and kiss softly. He cannonballed into the relationship, threw all caution to the wind and lost all sense of time and space during the course of those three magical summer months. When Sergio finally sat him down and explained to him, "this is just a summer thing, nothing else," Will felt frozen. The hot summer air turned cold around him and the night became much darker. He had seen it coming from miles away but had ignored all the signs and warnings. He had hoped that maybe love might be a real thing and that it was in fact attainable for him. He was so sure Sergio was the one, perfect, adventurous, charming Sergio. But it turned out to be the idea of him rather than the reality that drew Will in, and Will fell so deeply into that age-old trap. Now, Sergio, the heartbreaking-conniving-insensitive asshole, is sitting there as if the past three months meant nothing. "It was like an adventure, it was fun, but that was all it was."
By Andoni De Las Rivas8 years ago in Humans
A Drop Among Other Things: Chapter 4
I stayed at Tori's house until three o'clock, right until she had to go to work. She told me that I didn't have to come in and train with her that night, but I insisted. She knew she had to make me feel better, and I didn't want to lose that even though I wouldn't see her for five hours until I went in.
By Shelby Baker8 years ago in Humans
