literature
Whether written centuries ago or just last year, literary couples show that love is timeless.
The Immigrant
Chapter 1 “Name.” “Aly-Annette.” “Please wait.” As I stood waiting for the man to process my information, I could barely believe where I was or even who I was, an immigrant on Ellis Island. A shard of hope sliced through my mind so fiercely that all I could do was muster a smile and look at the man attending me. I was 22; the man seemed in his late 40s.
By Nicole Zapata8 years ago in Humans
The Season of Selfishness
The twenty-second day of December brought an unusual warmth to the city of Wilmington, Delaware, at least for the winter season. Zevon Perell enjoyed the unseasonable climate. He had just reached the floor of his hedge fund, Perell & Power Capital. He stood at six feet four inches and possessed the skin color of embers. His business partner was Gerty Power, a five foot five inch lady with the skin color of sandstone and hair dyed the color of the waters of Aruba.
By Skyler Saunders8 years ago in Humans
Ceasefire
“Just who do you think you are?” she challenged. Things had grown increasingly tense in their relationship and this fight was just the result of residual anger from the last. And that of the fight before that. Constantly following the same tired template. She would offhandedly say something crass or make some snide comment. Usually just something passive aggressive. He simply was incapable of turning the other cheek, and as a result. It would escalate quickly. They’d spit venomous words, throw and shatter glasses, do or say things that they’d ultimately regret solely in the effort to hurt the other. They’d make vague but genuine apologies. Promises that, always seemed to be made too often, and kept rarely. Then they’d go off to lick their wounds, and wait for the cycle to continue. “But it’s love.”
By Cameron Dominguez8 years ago in Humans
Hooks
I walked out with my feet throbbing and my head banging from the music that surrounded each and every person. The lights made contact with my eyes almost instantly, and wincing as inevitable. Imagine waking up after a long surgery, and the light shines straight in your eyes. That was the feeling. My suede heels guided me through the hall towards the open door. I looked around at the timeless photos of parties of years before, weddings, anniversaries, and the occasional class reunion. As each photo got older, I could feel the rush of air blasting me from the winter weather outside. The bite of jack frost felt good as the sweat from dancing seemed to dry. My bandage dress was no match for the ice box feeling of the outdoors, but I wasn't trying to fight it. I made my way to the opening of the venue, and in front of me stood two dark oak doors that seemed like they weighed a million pounds. The designs of each door screamed "ancient" and "classical", something out of the manors of Downton Abbey. As I walked through these wooden behemoths, the chilliness seeped right into my body, the hot breath making little clouds out of my nose and mouth. The doors led right out onto stairs that showed me to a little path, surrounded by the snow and leaves that signify the transition of fall into a cold winter. It was calming, standing under the stars and breathing in the thin air that stung as it was inhaled. In that moment, I remembered why I had come out here in the first place. To run away from the person I could never have. Have you ever wanted something so bad, and known you could never have it? It makes you want the item all the more. Just like the one cookie before dinner or getting into your dream school when they want a 4.0 and you have a 3.0. That was this feeling. In that party there was a person who instantly filled my head, something about them drew me to them, and it wasn't something I could control. The way they strayed away from the crowd and I dove right into it. The way that I had to look up at them to get a real detailed look at their face. Even with my heels I had to take a step back and admire it. Then after, I remembered why I couldn't have them, and why I shouldn't want them. The hurt they caused me, and how they tried to catch the fish, caught it, and let it go before taking the hook out. I turned around and looked back at the building, the multi-color lights shining through the aged windows. The ground seemed to bounce along with the music. My eyes made my way to the Downton Abbey doors, and in the doorway stood a figure I didn't think I'd see. I stood back onto the snow in my heels as the figure made their way out as well. Crossing over to the opposite side of the entrance, they stepped onto the brick path and onto a cleared off bench. The figure sat down and took a deep breath, the big cloud of breath that formed in the air proved it. I slowly stepped back onto the path avoiding the lone sticks around my feet for fear of stepping on one and gaining attention from the loud crack. My feet made their way to the entrance without a glance from the figure. As I stepped onto the first step, I seemed to forget that high heels were possibly the loudest inventions in women footwear. The figure glanced over my way and realized they had company.
By Samantha Cabbil8 years ago in Humans
Evergreen
Chapter 1 “Do you like to dance, Mr. Darcy?” “Not if I can help it.” “No, Wil, no,” Dani ripped the remote out of my hand, Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy were replaced by black screen with me looking back at myself lying face first on my couch in day old pajamas. “You can’t do this to yourself. It has been three weeks since that ass hat left. I will no longer stand by and watch you be depressed. I won’t do it. As your best friend I am responsible for your wellbeing after a break up.” I grunted and rolled myself off the couch.
By Jessica Briggs8 years ago in Humans
The Mock Life – Chapter Two
I'm home. I haven't even been out of the house that long and I feel like I've vanquished a great demon. I find my bed, I find my nook, and my head rests gently on the pillow and I feel comfortable. I sense her. Before she even says my name, before her stench wafts in, before she breaks in like the shittest cat robber ever. There she is, the overwhelming figure of matronliness (or lacking of) lurking at the end of my bed for the second time today. Two times more than I would have preferred. She tells me that Janet her therapist has told her that maybe that I need to hear she loves me more. The Thug began seeing a psych a couple of years ago when she self-diagnosed that she was having a midlife crisis, obviously only me, my father and Janet knew this. I'm aware I sound cold, but she's just really fucking annoying. Like if you don't know someone like her you just won't understand. So then she sits. She sits on the end of the bed, she asks me how my day way, feigns some general interest and then she blindsides me. We are not an open family, we don't have family meetings or discuss our feelings the closest we've ever got is when my great aunt Marie died and my dad gave me a quick hug and a pat on the back. We're not emotionless, we are just not like this. She asks me if I'm a virgin. I feel my jaw literally drop a little and my irises widen three centimetres. This is not what we talk about. This is not who we are. Even the Thug can recognise my disbelief and slight nausea.
By Ellen Brooking8 years ago in Humans
Toxicity
You exhaled. Your face is sunburned and freckled. I watch as the wind whirls your blue hair around, hitting your face like microfine whips. You smile at me, ripping grass out of the earth and watching it fly away. We are family, more like sisters than my own flesh and blood. Laying on my chest feeling roaring heat resonate on our skin, I have never felt more alive than when our hearts beat to the same rhythm.
By Alastor Kommer8 years ago in Humans
Reckless
Astrid sat cross legged on cement so cold it almost felt wet through her dark jeans. She tucked a strand of short, greasy black hair behind her ear as she sucked on a clove cigar, blowing out the smoke as slowly as her lungs would let her. The setting sun blurred the barren trees and brick buildings surrounding her, the textured walls seeming to stretch into the sky forever. She wondered what it would be like to climb them as she watched the smoke curl upward from her fingertips, slow and smooth as caramel, before the wind crept along and spread the wisps into nothingness.
By Kye Earley8 years ago in Humans
