Love

What Happened to the Witch That Saved the World
Scarred hands shook with nerves as they reached for the clothespins securing the white bed sheet to the line. The sleeves of her tunic slid down revealing more scars ringed around her wrists from where shackles used to tear into her skin. They matched the marks around her ankles as well which she kept covered with stockings.
By Taylor Westwood5 years ago in Fiction
THE PEN PALS
A letter dated November 6, 1975, the same day I left Trinidad, was the first one I received after my Trinidad trip. She wrote, “It seems as though you have cast a spell on us, everyone is only talking about you while I am listening almost in tears. I can’t forget you; your face seems to appear in front of me and your voice could still be heard.” She continued, “I told my parents that you would like to marry me, they were delighted to hear this news and wish to know why you did not tell them before your departure. They think you might change your mind after some time. I do trust and believe that you were serious. You are very handsome and intelligent; do you change your mind?” I wish I could find my reply to this letter; most likely I must have assured her that I loved her dearly and that I am very serious about marrying her. I must have informed her that the Ramcharan family should not have any doubt about it. She reminded me of a simple incident and her feelings for me, “Do you remember your friend’s relatives down in Fyzabad, in south Trinidad? When you told them that I am very shy etc. somehow, I felt very close to you but at the same time could not express myself. You should know I wanted to say many things to you but felt embarrassed, don’t know why I am always like that, I hope to change sometime.” I always noticed her shyness, but I too was very shy to have expressed my true feelings for her in presence of Rajesh, Dolly, and other family members. We were never alone together till the very last night before my departure from Trinidad. We had so many things to talk and share; we never got a chance.
By Arun Kumar Ph. D.5 years ago in Fiction
The Scars of Runaway Bay
The summer sun was just beginning to set as I finished the last of my makeup. Rays of diminishing sunlight were finally giving up and the air began to cool. The anxiousness of preparing myself took a moment to settle within me. I hadn’t felt that way in years. The feeling was coupled with an inherited sadness and caution. I recalled the times when my now ex-husband used to make me feel this way. I summoned the will to forget that for the time being and decided to take back the moment.
By Sherman B. Mason5 years ago in Fiction
The Way to a Man's Heart
My eyes feel as if they weigh one hundred pounds. I pry them open to reveal the same dingy room I’ve been trapped in for the past few weeks. If you can even call it a room; it’s more like a prison cell.
By Quinn Doyle5 years ago in Fiction
Leelee the Contented Dachshund Chocoholic Dog!
Leelee the Contented Dachshund Chocoholic Dog I base this story on my beloved dachshund Leelee. Her love for chocolate was more human than a dog. Leelee is long gone, but still holds a place in my heart. She loved anything chocolate. Leelee was a chocoholic dog.
By Brenda Fluharty5 years ago in Fiction
The Ladies of the Warehouse
“I’m glad you felt well enough to come,” Jimmy said as they stepped out into the cloudy summer heat that would never feel like Valentine’s Day to Kathy. “I’d have hated to have to look at Mrs. Blodgett laid out in there alone. What a bloody awful day for a funeral.”
By David A. Bede5 years ago in Fiction
The Book of Night
1 The street was quiet, for the most part, and the road that connected both ends of the river on either side was nearly empty of life for the only time in two decades. A dark matte painting, with perfectly angled lights buzzing out of the streetlamps, illuminating the asphalt a bright yellow. It was a very uncommon sight. The old city sirens were hidden in the dark, but just visible enough.
By Madonna Jinx Fitzroy Major5 years ago in Fiction
Love In Two Days
"This is the fifth date this week." Angie has been my best friend before I knew how to spell best friend. She knows me more than I know myself the majority of the time.
By teisha leshea5 years ago in Fiction
Private Investigations
Now, the dog. Buckley was what I got in place of a twin. I liked him much better actually because he was never grumpy like Stan, getting me in trouble like Rudy, crying over nothing like Corinne, or too busy to play like Calvin. So I thought I got a pretty good deal, all in all. The only catch was that Buckley sometimes wasn’t allowed in public places, and he wasn’t toilet-trained like my siblings.
By Olivia Hrubetz5 years ago in Fiction
Slices of Memories
The bell above the door chimed, as a jacketed well dress man entered the quiet diner. It would have been after the morning rush. He ran his hand through his blond hair, as he approached the uniformed middle-aged woman who turned to look at him
By Michael Lewis5 years ago in Fiction
Losstars
“Dear diary, My life has always been like any other royal before me, as far as the dresses, food, treatment, and of course living in the stone palace. However, its also been very lonely. Because of my wings, I was taken from my mother upon birth and raised by a governess instead. Even if you thought that wasn’t too bad, it gets worse. My father hates me, and has forced me to live in isolation, inside the highest tower of the palace my entire life. The only true blessings I can think of count up to a total of three: My governess, who has always been kind to me and treated me like her own, doting on me every chance she gets. My tower window, which allows me to see my floating city made of stone and all its people. And my birthdays, which are the only times I briefly get to see my mother, and the only time I receive anything from the outside world except for books, linens, and clothes. I have always loved my mother, even with how rarely we see each other, and she has always found little ways of showing me she loves me, even with our distance, so even though she’s never been a large presence in my life, she’s always been there and has constantly kept me in mind and heart, and I look forward to every time I get the chance to see her.
By BJaros5 years ago in Fiction
Flo, Otis, and the President's Desk
Mama Ravenwood was watching me closely with her small dark eyes that were set too close together in her stern, frown-lined face. The red beans were crunchy and seasoned with . . . dirt? . . . and the rice was watery.
By Patty Doak Tydings5 years ago in Fiction