literature
Whether written centuries ago or just last year, literary couples show that love is timeless.
The Back Door
If I were to write a story, I would write about the safé on the corner of Lupus and Flitcroft Street. It probably has an actual name but I don’t know what it is. I don’t like it all that much. Its walls are of a sickly lime green colour and the chairs are hard, modern and white. I also don’t drink coffee, but if I did, I certainly wouldn’t drink it there. They always buy the cheapest brand and then the whole café stinks like someone died in there. But no one really cares. I usually drink orange juice. The oranges are good; they get them from a nearby market, so it’s not some cheap stuff out of a box.
By Felicity Jade Lawrence8 years ago in Humans
Autumn and Winter Romance
I met Robert on Halloween in 2015. I was dressed head-to-toe in early twentieth century clothing as a vampire who could not bring herself to dress in modern fashion. I was particularly proud of myself because I had managed to spend less than five hundred dollars on the costume, which I could use for multiple purposes outside of Halloween. I was also the most fancily dressed at the Halloween party — that was, until Robert walked in the room.
By Colleen Sweeney8 years ago in Humans
Ghost Story
There’s a breeze coming in off the ocean. The fog is rolling in like ghosts, reminding me of the specter the man I slept beside last night will soon be. Gooseflesh coils up my arms like a forest fire. It’s the 8th day of counselor training, I walk into the dining hall some kind of seven am, red eyed, black coffee awful. I’m wearing a tasseled crop top, bleached booty shorts. My shoulder length hair is done up some kind of backwoods beauty queen. Discount mascara is painted over my infected eye. A mosquito bit me on my eyelid yesterday. The man from the night before told me that it’s because the insects thought my eyes were pretty too. He told me some things were too beautiful to resist. I’m more sunburnt than tan, my face looks like I’m always anime blushing, so when I walk in and the entire dining hall goes silent, none of the other counselors can see the blood rushing to my face. They stare anyways.
By Aliza Dube8 years ago in Humans
Was It Meant to Be?
How do you lay next to the guy you fell head-over-heels for, knowing that he treats you like a friend or sometimes not even like you're the most important thing in his life? Yeah, I know, you can't answer that. They always say that true love never fails, it may bend at some points in time, but it will never break. So why does it feel like your heart is in a million pieces? Moral point is that you never know how the other person feels for you. They can tell you a thousand times but if they don’t show you then what’s its really worth?
By Kelsey Hollingsworth8 years ago in Humans
Only Charles and I
At first, we thought the black liquid was oil, that we'd struck it rich and that we'd be able to retire and live in leisure. After working for so many months in the same fields, we've finally reached our goal. We actually started writing down all the ways we'd spend the money.
By Mensur Hamzabegović8 years ago in Humans
A Man and The Man
Roger Paul Jameson, III meticulously pulled the shaving cream from his face as he stared into his large mirror. He saw that no piece of his hair had stayed on, and he nodded at this sight. He then put down his razor and reached for his toothbrush, which already had the toothpaste on its bristles.
By Alex Maurice8 years ago in Humans
The Hamiltons: Part 3
Alexander Hamilton paced back and forth in front of his wife's bedroom door and wished that it would all just be over already. His mother-in-law had told him that Eliza was a healthy young woman and that all was going well. If anyone was an expert on pregnancy and childbirth, it was Catherine Schuyler. The doctor and the midwife had said pretty much the same thing but none of this sage wisdom had done anything to make Alexander worry any less.
By Rachel Lesch8 years ago in Humans
Chains of Love
She sat on the small wooden bench so quietly as she gazed out the open window. I leaned against the doorjamb, my sunburned arms crossed against my chest as I looked in on her. From my angle, I could see only the side of her face, but it was enough to see the peaceful, thoughtful look in her eye. The sun was beginning to sink down below the treetops and a gentle summer breeze was moving just enough that I could pick up on the light scent of the flowers she had planted right outside the window. I thought it was a silly place for a garden.
By Jennifer Tate8 years ago in Humans
