Prose
- Details
- Written by: LoriSchafer
- Category: Prose
- Hits: 2663
Our best friends were having a baby. Inwardly, I groaned.
“You know what this means, Frank?” I complained to my boyfriend. “They won’t be going out with us anymore.” One by one our friends had succumbed to the bothersome burdens of boring adulthood: first marriage, now children. Soon only Frank and I would be left gloriously unencumbered.
- Details
- Written by: infinite_airy
- Category: Prose
- Hits: 2416
The Star of Bethlehem sits watch atop our Christmas tree like a holy beacon, casting a yellow light across the living room. No more than a few feet away, my mother’s snores slip out beneath her bedroom door, and echo ever so slightly in the base of our fireplace. About an hour ago, I heard her tip-toe upstairs to my room to kiss my sister’s sleeping forehead, and soon felt the peck of her warm lips on the stubble of my own cheek. She still smelled a bit like the twelve hours of bedpans and soiled linens she had cleaned that day, but the familiar scent of her shampooed hair calmed me.
Read more: Not a Creature was Stirring
- Details
- Written by: wickedwahine_69
- Category: Prose
- Hits: 2969
The neighborhood of the hill near the old Hawaiian church named Kamo’ili’ili acquired its name through this story --- Kamo'ili'ili literally translates into “Pebble Lizard”. It is said that one day, long ago, three friends were traveling across this land. Hi’iakaikapolio Pele (the younger sister of Pele the volcano goddess) and two of her friends, Lohiau, and Wahineomao. (Lohiau was a handsome chief from Kauai and Wahineomao was a friend of Hi’iakaikapolio.) They were walking along together, when all of the sudden there was a powerful gust of wind.
Read more: The Legend of Kamo'ili'ili
- Details
- Written by: mr.natural1976
- Category: Prose
- Hits: 2429
I’ve always hated the night, especially when it thunders outside and the rain comes in cold, hard sheets...and when I am by myself. He always announces his presence when I least expect him to. And, when the lightning glaringly streaks across the midnight sky and strong gusts of wind eerily snuff out the cherry of my cigarette, I know he is nearby. He hates it when I smoke and never bothers to talk to me when I do and comes at the most inopportune moments.
- Details
- Written by: mr.natural1976
- Category: Prose
- Hits: 2512
People who romanticize Van Gogh –like Madness mostly likely have never met
him. He’s not the easiest guy to get along with. And he comes out of the blue, when
you least expect him to. Most sophisticated aficionados praise the insanity…the
intensity…the originality…that’s because they never met Madness…if they did they
would think twice about adoring him. I never adored him, because I know what he's really like.
Read more: The Problem with Madness
