Love
The Café
Him. It was him. He couldn't stay out of my head. I wanted him...no, I needed him. I knew he felt the same by the way he was looking at me. It has been two weeks since I has last seen him and I thought he was gone for good due to our last conversation. It has been the longest two weeks of my life. I know it is cliché of me to say that but it is exactly what it felt like. The bell rang making me flinch and looking away.
By Mia Alejos 5 years ago in Fiction
The Real Illness
He lay inside the pink mosquito net on a rickety bed near the window, pale and thin. He would turn over to the window to welcome the new day. He would do it slowly, afraid that the legs of the bed might give in. He would do it every morning when the sun comes out on the horizon. At night before sleeping, he would face away from the window. It had a benefit to him because when he coughed and needed to spit phlegm, he would just reach the tin can under his bed. It was better than to spit through the window and somebody would spot him. But the coughing did not hide the illness.
By M.G. Maderazo5 years ago in Fiction
Good Things Come...
It was the kind of day artists and poets lived for. Bleak, gray and slightly chilly. The leaves had all abandoned their posts on the tree limbs and now littered the cobblestone streets below, kicking up with every little gust of wind and dancing to a new spot on the path. The clouds hid the warm rays of the sun and cast the village in shadow as its inhabitants, bundled up against the sudden cold, moved lethargically through their work.
By Breanna Pierce5 years ago in Fiction
The Shark
The bump jars me awake. I pry open my salt-crusted eyes and see a blurry blue-colored sky framed in the open orange door of the life raft. Wind pours in through the opening and stirs the stale air inside the raft. The air flow feels good against my sunburned skin and helps revitalize my body. My mouth is dry but I manage to conjure up enough moisture to lick my cracked lips. The relief is short-lived.
By Steve E Donaldson5 years ago in Fiction
The Estranged Wife Part 3
Sarah Collins’ POV “Good morning.” George greeted with a hoarse voice. He wasn’t feeling well the entire afternoon and worked until 10 o’clock last night to finish some reports. He came home with a fever and was coughing all night. I knew he didn’t get enough sleep because of that.
By Jem Ricafort5 years ago in Fiction
Searching for Sharks
Even with nothing but a thin wetsuit, the warm waters of the Caribbean felt almost like bathwater on Jordan’s skin. Diving on the west coast, where Jordan had lived his entire life, was always fun in its own way. But there was something special about the beauty of the waters here off of the east coast of Honduras. Of course, perhaps it was just the natural high of being somewhere new-vacations like this were rare with a PhD workload and teaching assistant salary. Jordan slowly let air some air into his BCD (the inflatable jacket divers wear around that holds their tank and controls their buoyancy) and came to a hover fifty meters beneath the surface. He looked over to his right, where Meghan was almost slowing her descent. She looked at him and gave him the OK sign, the universal underwater symbol for being all good, and added an excited smile for good measure.
By Thomas Kennedy5 years ago in Fiction
Tention within tenses
It was presented to me as a gift, although it did not look like one. You walked me into a room with mysterious words. “This is our future!” You sounded excited, and it almost made me forget how the last several months felt. A little too glad to be able to hold your hand again, and following you with my eyes closed, I realised how much I trust you. Then you gently remove your fingers from my palm and move to the side. I can hear you breathing for some time, but then, your presence blends into the rest of the distant noises. Standing still with my eyelids blocking the view, waiting for a signal. But it never comes - the room is silent, and so are you. Another chunk of time dressed like an eternity passes before I look around. Only a little is visible from the dar scenery, but I know you aren’t there. As I slowly move around, feeling the wall, I stumble over a switch. Uncertain, whether you would allow that – if that was a part of the plan - I press it and watch the blinds rolling up. Slightly confused by the intensity of the outside world, I now identify the silhouettes as they gain the much needed third dimension.
By Ondrej Zika5 years ago in Fiction
Cold Heart
I walk in the street trying to get across to the sidewalk. February's angry winds hit against my face causing me to wince. I’m dreading this meeting but I know it was bound to come. Things changed. I could feel it like the cloud filled with gray above me. We haven’t been happy in a while but, doesn’t mean I don’t care about us.
By Danielle Beard5 years ago in Fiction
American Spirits
I squinted, trying to see through not only the darkness but the tendrils of cigarette smoke as well that filled the crowded club. I had my arm snaked around the hips of Claudine, a girl that I had met two weeks before in this same club, as she grinded them against my own. Lime and turquoise lights bounced off of her practically white hair, which was frizzy and crazy from all the dancing. She licked her lips like they had sugar covering them and pulled at my neck until my ear was level with her mouth. Her breath smelled like the American Spirit yellows that seemed to be glued between her pouty lips every time I was around her. I found her smoking disgusting, but her body was heavenly. She whispered something in my ear that I couldn’t make out over the EDM that rattled my skull. I looked blankly at her, half trying to figure out what she said, half trying to see if she would say it again. She repeated herself louder, shouting into my ear.
By Maloree Powers5 years ago in Fiction
Sedona
“That’ll be fifteen eighty-six.” I passed a crumpled twenty over the counter to the cashier girl, grabbed my cloves, and mumbled under my breath to keep the change. The bell on the door twinkled a goodbye as I left butt-fuck nowhere for good. I saw the girl wave behind my back in the reflection of the glass door, but I didn’t care enough to turn around and return it.
By Maloree Powers5 years ago in Fiction
