Love
Meeting Emily
My heart was racing as I pedaled my bicycle down the loose gravel path, kicking up rocks with every furious rotation of the wheels. I knew what I was doing was reckless, but maybe it was the secrecy that made it so exciting. No one could know where I was going, especially not my parents. They would never understand.
By Kristen Johnson5 years ago in Fiction
Sorry sometimes doesn't cut it
This is my friend Deepak Singh's story. Each time I think what he went through I tear up. Deepak and I live a few minutes from each other in Cinncinnati, U.S.A. Deepak immigrated to the US from India with his parents and two brothers in 1997. They are originally from Barielly. In 2000 Deepak started working at Williamson & Kapadia Accountants in Cinncinnati. I met him there. At that time I was working at the firm for nearly 3 years. Soon we became good friends. After many years when we got married our wives also became friends and now Deepak's son is good friends with my daughters.
By Anshuman Kumar5 years ago in Fiction
She Always Wanted to Get Married in a Barn
Her name was Annabelle Claire Wishmoore. A determined girl with wavy ash blond hair and fierce hazel eyes that differed slightly every time you looked. I had the honor of meeting her at the innocent age of seven. We had just moved into our new countryside home. The neighbors came to welcome us into the community with pies and fruit baskets. One couple had brought their daughter.
By Kaitlyn Gilpin5 years ago in Fiction
Lost and Found
By this point, I was at the fuck-it stage of an accelerating downward spiral. The product of many sporadic decisions had landed me on the San Juan islands in the up left corner of the USA. I had a girl there. We’d met at a grocery store on the day I had planned on leaving the San Juan Islands. I had asked where the cheese was and somehow that had planted the seed for a year-long romance. By the end of that year I had grown very attached to her everlasting positivity no matter what the situation. Then, as usually happens with me at that point in a love affair, she decided it wasn’t right. And when she’d said that, I decided that it wasn’t fair for me - and I told her so too. ‘You’ll miss me, but believe that I won’t be missing you.’ I’m sure I had said something like that. I usually do. I wonder if the women ever believe it.
By Raisin Brazon5 years ago in Fiction
The Estranged Wife Part 1
Sarah Collins’ POV I was sipping my champagne as I watched the newlyweds laugh heartily while chatting with their guests. My boss and mentor, Steve Johnson married his best friend and first love after 50 years. It was a quintessential traditional barn wedding with subtle blush and gold color scheme that complemented the golden stone interior of the barn. The Chiavari chairs and tall candlesticks added a rustic touch to it. There were fairy light chandeliers suspended from the old barn’s vaulted ceiling which gave a romantic vibe to the venue. The weathered exterior of the barn was decorated with flowers, garlands of greenery and pink and white roses. This was exactly how I pictured my perfect wedding reception to be.
By Jem Ricafort5 years ago in Fiction
Hindsight
Chapter Two What happened with Xander It was like a classic, cheesy romantic movie cliché, the way I met Xander Davies. Pushing the stroller with one hand, trying to shove my change from my coffee purchase back into my purse, I literally ran right into him.
By Milissa McDaniel5 years ago in Fiction
Barn me not!
I don’t like my folks. That’s why I’ve left our ranch as soon as I could. All those animals and routine tasks weren’t meant for me. I wanted to see the world from every angle and not just one horizon. And that’s why I’ve tried to stay far away as long as possible. It took me ten years to come back. I am a man of my word; I would help them if they needed. But my parents never asked me for help and, when I knew that they were in need, it was too late. My father was sick, my mother is weary, and the ranch is poorly cared for. I never said that I wouldn’t help them. I am actually pretty chocked that all this happened.
By Sofia Duarte5 years ago in Fiction
Divine Love
Boom! Boom! Boom! The onomatopoeic sound filled the room, Beckha’s eyes opening slightly whilst her ears adjusted to the echoic noise as she woke. She inhaled deeply, she could smell the mix of lavender and frankincense, that she often had diffusing throughout her bedroom. The gentle smell satisfying Beckha’s nostrils as she drifted into the sensuality of life. Her white silk sheets softly covering her naked body, she felt their love as she playfully rolled from side to side. She giggled and enjoyed the sensual caressing of their silky lustre across her buttocks, she rolled to play a little more, as her smooth skin and the silk collide in sensual wonder. Beckha wondered if that was what spiders felt like with their butts full of silk. Is that what they did when they ran their little legs together as the spun their webs. She stopped mid roll to gaze upon her chairs. As antiques go, the two green velvet chairs each side of the bay window were her favourite pieces. They were the only thing Beckha stayed attached to; everything and everyone else, long gone. She traced each leg with her eyes, caressing the carved wood like a lover in waiting, she knew how they felt, and they always held her beautifully. Beckha pretended sometimes that she was the craftsman, creating such splendour with her decorous hands; how she loved those chairs. Her morning ritual: think of all the beauty she has seen and fill her existence with it, she was always happy, happy all the time, unless of course, if she wasn’t.
By Rebecca Clarkson5 years ago in Fiction
The Barn
It's 1953, and a dozen teenage kids ranging in age from 13 to 17 are sitting inside the old, rust-red, barn. The barn is lined with five California pepper trees that cover the southside of the roof. It is located on a cotton farm in Bakersfield, California.
By Rick Henry Christopher 5 years ago in Fiction
Perchance to Dream
I stood arm in arm with my father beside the willow tree as the breeze picked up and my heart gently sunk. With the sunset pristine, he looked at me with a shimmering glint in his eyes. "I love you, Susan," he said, "I'm so very proud of you, sweetheart." I looked at him for a moment and smiled, then looked away towards the trail of lights that lay before us. Around the corner, the pathway illuminated far greater than that of any starry night, and my love for this moment became undoubtedly absolute. Still, arm in arm, my father and I walked along the sacred path and witnessed the utmost beguiling scene of thought and affection. Fireworks erupting across the lake, violinists performing in such an exquisite style, the townspeople gathered with nothing but smiles, and the cliche but appropriate; white doves emerging as we went onward. It was magnificent, even more so than the sun flaring behind us as it sunk beneath the horizon. I proceeded to hold my father close as we neared the end of our lively course. My dress was still immaculate and glistened as though all of the light that we traversed absorbed into it. I felt majestic, glorious to say the least, and as we approached the doors of the old barn I had once feared, I was now facing them with reverence and a willingness to persist.
By Nathan Fisher5 years ago in Fiction
