literature
Whether written centuries ago or just last year, literary couples show that love is timeless.
'Last Christmas in Paris' Book Review - Spoilers Ahead!
Do you know those once in a lifetime love stories? Romeo & Juliet or The Great Gatsby or anything by John Green. Those stories that get you so invested in the love story and then completely destroy you by killing off one of the main characters. This is one of those, so if you can't handle another heartbreak, I suggest skipping Last Christmas in Paris. On the other hand, if you want an epic love story and a chance to travel the world, Last Christmas in Paris is the perfect novel for your next read.
By Kristen Barenthaler8 years ago in Humans
An Unexpected Love
Reece had arrived at the small café across his town after a fifteen minute drive. It wasn't long at all, which he was thankful for. It wasn't his first time playing at this café, so he wasn't as nervous as he would normally be. He parked in his usual spot, on the far end of the parking lot, before getting out of his car, keys in hand. He was wearing his usual clothes despite it being summer. He knew his dark skinny jeans, black shirt, black Converse, and his jacket made him stand out to others, seeing as they wore shorts and tank tops in the blistering heat. He didn't care much though, used to standing out and being looked at weirdly. Plus, despite nearly dying of heatstroke every day, he felt comfortable in his layer of clothes, having something to hide behind.
By Jordyn Perez8 years ago in Humans
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
