Love
Lyla's Box
It was a morning like every other morning, except it wasn’t. Lyla couldn’t quite put her finger on what was different about this 26th day of July but from the moment her eyes opened and she rolled over in bed, she had a feeling that today was going to be different. Memorable. She arose from her bed and slipped her pink satin robe over her shoulders and went into the bathroom to splash some water on her face before making her way to the kitchen to make some coffee. She had to hurry. Her shift at the hospital began at 7:00 and it was already pushing 6:00. As the coffee was brewing and filling her house with its aroma, she went about beginning her day now that the sleep was leaving her eyes. She brushed her teeth and ran the water for her shower. That feeling in the back of her mind about today being different had not gone away, quite the contrary, it had only gotten stronger the more she tried to ignore it.
By Brianna Edwards5 years ago in Fiction
Under the Pear Tree
In a small town lives a young woman named Lyla with dreams of being a simple baker. She adored the artistry of pastries and cakes, especially the ones with fruits and fillings. To fulfill her wish she works eight hour shifts, sometimes doubles, six days a week at a diner down the road. On her only day off she spends her time sitting under a pear tree in the forest behind her house. It was planted there and cared for by her grandmother before she passed. The tree has become a loving memory and her most favorite place. She always brings with her a basket of baked goods she experiments with at home along with a pen and notebook to write down all of her ideas for her bakery. Everything she could possibly think of like the calligraphy of the menu, the source of ingredients, the color of the walls, and all the flavor combinations she could think of. She could sit there in the soft grass for hours on end as she lives everyday with imagination and possibilities.
By Brooke Freerksen5 years ago in Fiction
Paper Boats
Paper boat makes me smile. It has become part of my life. Has become part of the life of many children, indeed. When we were children, we usually fold a used piece of paper to make one and let it float inside a basin with water. Then we blow air to make it sail around its limited ocean until it soaks and slowly sinks and we could not make it move anymore. Again we build another one until we give up thrusting it with the air from our lungs.
By M.G. Maderazo5 years ago in Fiction
Don't Open Until I'm Dead
"DON'T OPEN UNTIL I'M DEAD" was written on the envelope tucked in between the twine that was tied tightly around the box wrapped in plain brown paper. The box was heavy. It couldn't have been cardboard. But it also wasn't heavy enough for it to have been made of wood. Plastic, maybe? No. After tapping the sides it definitely didn't feel like plastic. A light shake didn't do much to solve the mystery either. A harder jostle was just as fruitless. Maybe the envelope could offer a clue.
By John DeLorenzo5 years ago in Fiction
One Killer Writer
Georgina's writing was finally taking off and she was the feature poet at the annual Colorful Creator's Art Festival. Georgina had coveted the opportunity to participate ever since she was just thirteen. Now she had finally made it, and Vince was nowhere to be found.
By Korreain Johnson5 years ago in Fiction
Theodore
Daniel opened the apartment door with a key he had possessed since he was a boy. Still on the same piece of green yarn, it slipped in the keyhole easily. The air was stale. The place had been closed tightly for too long, drapes drawn on the windows shutting out the world. The hardwood floors needed cleaning. He moved slowly from room to room, taking in the smells, touching the furniture, noting the photographs carefully hung on the walls, and in small wooden frames on the tabletops. He peeked in the fridge; he sighed, saddened; there was little work to be done in there. Confirmation that he hadn't been eating properly. Finally, Daniel set his coat on the back of his favourite chair, an overstuffed club covered in dark lavender velvet. He loved it because it was eccentric and comfortable, everything that he had known Theodore to be.
By Sandra Dosdall5 years ago in Fiction
The second chance
July 23, 2021 I had no intention of opening it. I am the type of person who obsesses with everything I shop and whatever this package was; I hadn’t ordered it. I hesitated and left the package a full day in the mailbox before putting on my big girl pants and finally checking who was it address to. My hands were trembling when I saw my name and address. The handwriting was familiar, which gave me the strength and comfort of opening it. I frowned as I took the old rusted key from the package. At least there was a letter in there.
By Alexandra Garcia (She/Her)5 years ago in Fiction
A Short Love Story
A Short Love Story It was a day like any other day except for a strong passion that I felt in my heart. It was put there by him - someone I saw all the time at work. I had no choice but to see him. He was the chef and I was the waitress at Lover's of Food restaurant. There weren't many chefs nor waiters as it was a small restaurant which made it so that we saw each other more.
By Shahidah Ahmad5 years ago in Fiction
Who Are You?
"Who are you?" Those are the first words Cas spoke to me almost 1 year ago. Now, in the present, I’m stumbling out of the taxicab onto the coarse, wet ground. She helps me up from my arm and drapes it around her neck. The bright lights of city nightlife are blinding. Car lights blare my vision and the sound of their tires across the 1 am streets are familiar, but below in my ears. She reaches the keys out of my back jean pockets and she carries me to the bedroom where she lets me go with a grunt of relief. “Wow! have you put on a couple of pounds” She chuckles.
By Mark Attia5 years ago in Fiction
End of Summer
A warm breeze flows past, tickling my skin and bringing the scent of the meadow with it. I sat in the middle of the field filled with marigolds, eyes closed as the warm sun beams shine on my face. A comfortable, happy, and warm feeling erupted in my chest as I felt his presence wrap around me. His arms bringing even more comfort as he gently held me with so much love emanating from him as he buried his face in my neck. We stayed there for what seemed like hours until he stood up and walked in front of me. He stared out at the field for a few minutes before turning to me and offering his hand. “Let’s go watch the sunset over there, my love,” he said tenderly. I took his hand as he pulled me up to my feet. We ran barefoot over to a small clearing on a hill and sat together hand-in-hand underneath a large oak tree. Its leaves a brilliant green, changing to orange as the setting sun shone on them. The fiery sunset gently cascaded down the sky as it slowly disappeared on the horizon of a lake. Before all of the light had said good night, we ran down the hill to the crystal blue lake at the foot of the hill. We ran into the shallow of the lake and threw water at each other playfully, with him tackling and kissing me as the night grew darker. We laid under the night sky on the soft, dewy grass as we watched the stars twinkle in the dark. The moon shone with a fullness that can only compete with the setting sun we saw earlier. As we laid there, side by side, he held my hand with such love and affection for me. “I wish this night would last forever…” I proclaimed, turning my head to look at him. He lifted my hand to his lips and kissed it, “It will, Darla. I promise that every night will be just like this one.”
By Dani Lucille5 years ago in Fiction
Surprise Times Three
Nikki unlocked the bakery door and dropped the box on the counter. She wondered what it could be and why it was wrapped in brown paper. It was in her sister Maddie’s name so she would just wait for her to come in. Nikki had been working with her sister for about a month now and she enjoyed it, she even starting learning how to bake. It was easier too because she could bring her daughter Rosie with her. Maddie had been giving Nikki more responsibility around the bakery since she was in charge of the events at the old barn. Things were looking up but Nikki did miss her husband, he was in the military and hasn’t been home for a year. Nikki didn’t lose hope though; she knew he would come home to her and their daughter. Shaking off the sadness she switched the close sign to open and waited for customers.
By Rebecca Hackney5 years ago in Fiction
