marriage
Marriage is not so much a word as it is a sentence–a life sentence.
A knock at the door
'And now the moment you've all been waiting for,' announced Bob Johnson, the local mayor. Perspiring slightly, he wiped his brow then dug a chubby hand into the clear perspex box in front of him, full to the brim with pink, green and white raffle tickets. Everyone immediately jostled for position and then a hush descended upon the crowd. Promoted by the local auto dealership, it was the biggest charity fundraiser the town had ever seen. It seemed as though half the community had crammed into the town hall, all duly wearing face masks, to witness the big draw. Many hopefuls had bought a dozen raffle tickets or more.
By Eva Lewicki5 years ago in Humans
Signs
For the last two years we found ourselves destitute. Although we lived in this quaint town for thirty-six years, our friends' reaction to our situation, of being without a real home, saddened us. They had put us into a category, the one reserved for all homeless people, even though they knew our tale. Our small black notebook which held all of their names and phone numbers, was useless now, so we threw it away into the trash bins which we relied on for our food.
By Pixie Arbuckle5 years ago in Humans
Baseball
ACT I – A View from the Bridge Parker Merriweather exited the backseat of his black luxury sedan. He ignited the cigarette softly glued to his lips by the saliva that had dried nearly three minutes before. He inhaled the introductory smoke and peeled the filter from his lips. Parker owned the car and was fully excused to do whatsoever he pleased inside of it, but as any ritualistic vice a person may have, it was far more gratifying to be patient until the opportune moment and everything was perfect—when she was in his sight.
By Rhett Alexander Hamilton5 years ago in Humans
The Love of His Life
Joseph plucked the small black book from the nightstand but was afraid to open it. Two years passed since he lost his beloved Paulette. Two years of staring at happy couples on TV, looking out windows at happy couples taking walks, and watching happy couples in grocery stores. Two years of living alone in Eventide, a so-called assisted care facility. Same bingo, same rubber chicken, same card games, day after day. Eventide became Joseph’s home when his wife, Paulette, fell ill and he needed help looking after her. It was all they could afford given her declining health. He wanted to move after she died, but had no place to go. His two sons each paid Eventide a hundred dollars a month to help out. They never failed to remind dear old Dad of their generosity, but they weren’t kidding anybody. That generosity was a preventive measure to keep Joseph from moving in with either of them, and he knew it.
By Bryce Boucher5 years ago in Humans
The Boob Job
Sometimes I worry that I don’t know how to die. I mean, I’ve never done it before (that I remember) – how will I know what to do? It would be kind of awkward to think right, this is my last breath, then take another. And another. How do you know which one is your last? And what about your thoughts, the eternal inner monologue – do you know when to stop thinking? Do you think right, time to go, this is it, or does it just cut off mid thought?
By Fiona De Jersey5 years ago in Humans
Keep Your Thumb Up
The man at the bank handed Denise a twenty-thousand dollar personal check and a black pocket-sized Moleskine notebook. She was instructed to eat it and burn the notebook by the end of the week. The check was made out to her and signed by her recently deceased husband, Ron. The notebook only contained four words, 'keep your thumb up.' The man softly closed the safety deposit box. He turned towards her while shrugging his shoulders and said, "I wish I could tell you more, but those were your husband's only instructions." Denise nodded her head in understanding and stood up to leave. She snapped the little elastic band around the notebook and grabbed the check, then slide them both into her purse.
By Jennifer Maston5 years ago in Humans
A Silent Goodbye
Lily was drained from exhaustion as she lay in her bed, grabbing her husband’s pillow. She brought it closer to her chest and face hoping she could still smell his scent. Tears began to fill her eyes. His scent was so faint now. She was wishing and hoping all this was all just a dream. Even though so many days had passed, every time she slept she would wake up looking for her husband. She just now was beginning to take it in. The realization hit her that this was no dream. Lily whispered, "He's really gone." More tears fall down her face, "He's really gone!" She longed for him to grab her and hold her tight and tell her everything was alright. Lily's mind went back to the day when it all happened, a week ago…
By Kristina Steffy5 years ago in Humans
Hot February
“Honey, why don't we ever win the lottery?!” “Because we never buy lottery tickets, Sweetie!” ... For the last two days she seemed cool, but I could feel her anxiety, a different one though, because her eyes had a hidden smile. I caught her, three of four times, writing secretly stuff in her little black book while browsing the internet, and quickly closing with a snap, and a push of a button, both the notebook and the phone. Hm! One of her projects. I left her be. When ready, she'd tell me everything. Her things always worth waiting for. One time she had a business idea of renting chicken hens to people who live in apartment buildings ("fresh, organic eggs"), but she quit it after we visited a chicken farm, she couldn’t stand the bird dung stench. Some other time she thought of manufacturing a 'perfume scent recognizer' device, paired with a phone app revealing the brand name, then the idea grew into a ‘meal scent recognizer’("also with a phone app, to send you to the right restaurant"). Her last thing was creating a bag, made of some lead fabric, to put the phone in on the nightstand ("no harmful radiation, but you'll hear the alarm clock in the morning").
By Bogdan Pertache5 years ago in Humans
