Chosen as one of Publishers Weekly's Best Books of 2016 ** In 1959 Cuba, Natalia San Martín was nothing short of a princess: sheltered, pampered, and courted by her very own prince, a childhood friend turned lifelong love. All that changed on the fateful New Year's Eve when Fidel Castro and his followers seized contro...
he leaned closer to me in the back of that rusty pickup truck, and smiled. "i love you" he said, gazing into my eyes. "don't lie to me." i said, leaning away from him. "i've never lied to you." "yes, yes you have. you told me i was pretty and i most definitely am not." ✽ she ate flowers because you are what you...
the boy leaned over and handed her the the striped sweater he had been wearing. she smiled as she pulled it on. "i love you, beautiful." he said. the girl only shook her head, now wanting the heavy wool to be as far away as possible. "no you dont. why would you say that?" "cause it's too cold for you here and now s...
We're all perfectionists; or at least we want to be. Everything we write, we try our best on to get noticed, to be heard and stand out from others. We need someone to guide our way through the world of literature. This story will show you what to avoid and what to aid in your style of expression through words. And her...
→ finished ← Claustrophobic and agoraphobic, Alaska Gouramie doesn't leave the house much. She whiles her days away nurturing her goldfish, Gordon. Her life is passing her by. Elver Harrison James is scared of fish. He won't go near the pond at the bottom of his garden. He will do anything to stay away from those wate...
"if i were to tell you why i love you, there would be too many reasons." "so narrow it down to one-hundred."
❝You and me,❞ he whispered, ❝until the end of time.❞ // A chronicle of Junie Bennett's birthdays from the ages of ten to twenty one.
[Camp Nanowrimo Project] They watched him grow up from the gaps in the floorboards. They waited for his dreams to die and his hope to wither. They fed on his dying childhood. They. The monsters.
How to talk to a suicide, by a suicide. If you are one, add your own thoughts through private message.
"I told you, once, that I believe in reincarnation. Lives after death." I grip his hand, the tears sliding down my cheeks as if they have a right to be there. They shouldn't be there. He shouldn't be dying. "I still believe in that." His eyes are as stormy as ever but they no longer look as if thunder will roll or lig...
❝You have to understand that someday I can't just say hello to you to risk another goodbye. ❞
for as long as anna can remember, every song she has listened to has been overlaid with the voice of boy next door, tobias. in the car, if katy perry was singing firework, toby was too. if the fray was blasting from anna's headphones, she could see toby mouthing the words. but when toby disappears one day without a t...
I don't think anything really last. coffee cools cigarettes ends music stops and life simply goes, on. the only thing that really last is his touch. © 2O13 explain All Rights Reserved. ((SORRY FOR NOT UPDATING, I'VE BEEN STUCK ON WRITERS BLOCK FOREVER AND I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO))
"alice?" he whispered, his voice nervous. "yeah?" she replied absent mindedly, stirring the coffee in the dark red cup with her spoon. "i love you," he said. an uncomfortable silence filled the air. "i love you, alice," he repeated, looking at her. her head was bent as she spooned the cream and only strands of her gin...
❝for me, singing sad songs often has a way of healing a situation. it gets the hurt out in the open into the light, out of the darkness.❞ [[ eight short stories based on eight songs by eight different artists. ]] http://8tracks.com/yourgirlbeth/eight-track
❝Everything has beauty, but not everyone sees it❞ ~Confucuis ◆ ◇◆ ◇◆ ◇◆ ◇◆ ◇◆ ◇◆ ◇◆ ◇◆ ◇◆◇◆ This isn't just a collection of poetry for you, It's the wonders and inspirations that goes floating into the sky. And most importantly it would mean something to everyone who goes through it. It's that little...
When kids are young and full of innocent wonder, they're asked the question that will haunt them far into their adult lives: what do you want to be when you're older? Kyleigh Frost's answer to this very question was that she wanted to be thin. Ever since she could remember, all she wanted to do with her li...
❝she's finding herself through unintentional and nonsensical inscriptions of so-called poetry.❞ {copyright: dana r.} ©
“I’m Mason,” he said. I nodded, and clicked the X in the corner of the computer screen so that it would go back to the home page. “And you?” he asked, and I looked at him, a questioning look on my face. “Your name,” he added, cocking his head to the side, “you do have one right?” “Hazel.” He looked at me for a moment...
All its life, the bird had felt unworthy and plain. Uninteresting and unremarkable. With its beak too long, its feathers a drab color, it felt utterly worthless. And trading being a human at the price of understanding was not too much of a price. Or was it? dedication to Eskimo Curlew bird
❝oh, to go to london and fall in love with an english boy.❞ [the name amelia + red hair] x certain cities + [english names / romance] = 31 days of amelia written in participation of the [im]perfection dare, by beyoutiful1D may twenty sixth; short story number seven (that's on the bottom of the first page); romance num...
