Love

The Locket
He did not understand today. He sat in his room awaiting for the group to arrive. His room was gray, the only color he had ever known. The walls were the same from floor to ceiling. The ceiling itself was this same wretched neutrality. The floor was dull to the point of no different. He had other colors in life such as the green blanket upon his bed, colored images in textbooks, and small objects and signs placed throughout the metallic confines of the ship he lived endless days, months, and years to in a drab existence. Always there was only gray, nonetheless. He had a small end table near the bed, the bed itself, a closet, and a desk filled with his drab uniforms. All of which were gray. The room was without windows. He had no understanding of day and night, but grayness was everywhere. In his hands, however, he held the locket she had given him. It was not gray. The heart was rose gold with a ruby inlaid, and he only knew this because she had said so. He only knew it was as beautiful as her voice. The chain gleamed like her eyes singing life as it had done when he first met her months ago. He held it tight in his hands as he had done endlessly since...well, since he did not understand today nor did he understand since either. He only knew that his gut was tied up in knots and his heart was empty. He saw the door handle turn, and they entered his room. He looked only down as they entered.
By Joseph Murch5 years ago in Fiction
Him
It feels like so long ago… I don’t know how much longer I even want to keep writing. It all seems so useless at this point. What happened? What did I do? Why do I deserve to be punished for your actions? What did you do? What was so important that you just had to go and abandon me huh?! We had everything, and then you ruined it all…
By Richard Wooten5 years ago in Fiction
No Flights to Reykjavik
I don’t have many things left, but I have more than most. But really, that all depends on if one’s memories and imagination can now be considered a quantifiable, valuable asset. Since present reality is so disturbing, I tend to believe it is.
By S5 years ago in Fiction
Heart Rack
A humanoid silhouette patiently steps around debris and garbage in the dim gray world of the city. The light of the late afternoon sun barely filters through the small holes of the thick dark clouds above. The hooded figure pauses and turns to check the road behind, watching the thin rays of light play across the broken bases of structures that had once towered out of sight. The figure makes little sound as it changes it's course, moving down an alley. The darkness envelopes the figure entirely and there are only quiet footsteps. No sound of stumbling.
By Ben Luten5 years ago in Fiction
Wishful Thinking
“Your lenses on?” Ra shook his head, kicking a piece of red-orange clay with his boot. “Wrists?” He stretched out his pale, sinewy arms that looked naked without a familiar wristband.
By Jane Palash5 years ago in Fiction
Invisible Me
You kissed me one night, but I know you don’t remember. Not that you don’t remember the moment—though you might not—but you don’t remember me. I’m telling you because for the past three years I’ve been invisible to you. I’m told if I’m unable to talk about, it’s better to write you a letter you’ll never read.
By Gwen Cole5 years ago in Fiction
John & Martha
“To Martha, with all of my love. From John” I ran my fingers over the inscription, now worn from years of close handling. The chain was broken and tarnished, which was fine -- I would never have worn it, anyway.
By Marleigh McVeigh5 years ago in Fiction
Mr. Tucker and the Priest
I’ve heard a lot of people talking about how they wish they could have gotten the chance to grow old. Do you ever wonder if you’ll grow old, when your hair will start to turn gray, or maybe even when your body will start to ache from old age? All of these have already happened to me, but it happens quicker when you’re a dog.
By Hanna Taylor5 years ago in Fiction
Rapunzel Rapunzel let down thy hair
Rapunzel is one of my favorite fairy tales. As a little girl, I recall my great grandmother often saying "Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down thy hair that I may climb without a stair." I visualized what it would be like to have such long thick tresses that an individual could use my hair to climb up a tower. In one book version of the story. I read that the prince said "Rapunzel! Rapunzel! Let down your hair that I may climb thy golden stair". This German fairy tale was recorded by the Brothers Grimm who collected folklore and used their talent to turned what they heard into their own version of the stories.
By Cheryl E Preston5 years ago in Fiction
The End of Us
The emergency sirens howl throughout the city and I can feel it my chest. The rush pulses through my veins and my body is tense as I'm driving through the chaos of the city. The world is on fire and without warning humanity is facing it's immediate doom as an asteroid is about to hit and we say our last goodbyes. The sense of urgency and panic fuels the desert metropolis as well as my own intentions.
By AL5 years ago in Fiction
My Life Before...
I remember about 15 years ago, i was 16 and my first love was in high school and hated my parents for keeping us apart.. His name was R.J, short for Ronald Jr.. he was tall, dark, and handsome, and all the girls wanted him.. And he wanted me.. We fell in love and had plans to marry after high school, have a small family and live happily after all..
By Angela Severin5 years ago in Fiction
Hashtag Dad Jokes
Pitch dark. Black. Empty. Aware only of his existence, Finian floated. Suspended in whatever this was or is or might be, he tried to speak, to yell even. Nothing. His attempts to do anything at all: yell, flail, see, hear - anything that might prove he was something more than this “nothingness” pervading his entire being - proved fruitless, save for a list of failures and falsified theories. It was as if he had ascended to a higher plane of existence, but was the only one who had discovered the process. He could think, but nothing else. So, he did the only thing that was allowed. He let his mind wander through its corridors, back alley ways, into rooms it did not even know it had and then, finally, it made the long trip back to the foyer. Finishing, Finian felt confident - perhaps for the first time since he had awakened - that this was going to be a very long eternity.
By Michael Neuman5 years ago in Fiction