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The woman smiled at the scene. She closed her eyes to accept one final, warm kiss before the fence swallowed the sun whole. A cool breeze stirred itself from slumber, fanning Muriel’s face the moment the sun’s last ray stopped lingering.
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1559127
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I am a romantic writer, true. But what comes after the romance is what fascinates me. A lover dying is the most beautiful scene I want to write. The most beautiful scene I have yet to write.
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20312113
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‘I love you' said the man at the book signing.
He was one of the last. The shop was closing. The staff were starting to turn off the lights. She was sitting in the glow of a table lamp with her latest novel in stacks around her.
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113300
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Damien, my boyfriend, talks me back to sleep when I wake up in the middle of the night, he doesn't judge me for being afraid of the dark, or being lost at sea, he simply listens to me breathlessly explaining why I'm awake— again— at 3:32 in the…
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134041
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Refuse to go to the church service, even though you already missed the funeral. Tell his mother something came up. Call his phone over and over, just to hear his voice, until his mother asks you to stop. Make a recording of his voicemail. Delete it an
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169385
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This is where he died, she says to me, and points to the damp pavement. Her hair is wet, and slicked against her neck. The humidity is making everything engulf her. The sleep shorts I bought her last July are loose on her now, but between the rain and
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9440
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There was a writer who was said to suffer from some obscure insanity: so obscure that there were no records of it in the annals of medical history; so obscure that the doctors and psychiatrists were only able to diagnose him with suffering from himself.
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155210
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But she knew what she would find. She knew it all the moment she felt the sticky fingerprints behind the slat of her old oak slay bed. The fingerprints that would only be left from a person grabbing it from behind their head. The fingerprints that she
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102611
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#ShortStory #writers
are failed #poets...
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7811
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Here was a book called The Secret Bookstore, about a character who goes into a bookstore and finds a book called The Secret Bookstore in which a character goes into a bookstore only to find himself reading a book he has written called The Secret Bookstore
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22422
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As we conjure our stories
memories rise like acrid smoke
from inner conflagrations
tragedy and pain barely covered
in too shallow graves
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1098179
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A woman who is, say, a culinary arts champion or an heiress devoted to literature such as Bryher (Annie Winifred Ellerman) or Peggy Guggenheim might be able to turn me on, turn me out, turn me around.
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119744
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She couldn’t help but wonder what 93 year-old Sohrabjee looked for in the torn, dusty lithograph of Marilyn in Persia one of the orderlies had stuck to the wall of the corridor outside Jasmine Wing decades ago.
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