All posts filed under: Fictional Stories

What Emma Did

I was sixteen years and one day old the first time I told Emma Hayes that I loved her. If I was someone else I might tell you where we were that day or maybe something about the way the sunlight hit her wavy brown hair. I am not going to tell you those things, though, because the truth is, I don’t remember. I only know that it was the day after my birthday, because of our conversation. She’d been ignoring me up until that point because I’d kissed Kaitlin Green at my party when I was supposed to be going out with her. Don’t ask me why I did it, I did a lot of stupid things at sixteen. “You’re a real pain, you know that?” “Yeah. I mean okay, I guess.” “You guess? So you have nothing to say to me, then.” “What do you want me to say, Emma? I shouldn’t have kissed her, but it was a dare. It didn’t mean anything.” “It didn’t? Are you sure? “No, it didn’t. She’s …

He & She

Listen While Reading: Lovers // Mornings. Brooklyn in spring. Always a sense of fresh starts and chapters just beginning. As many new chances as there are flowers just starting to poke out of the ground. She had met a boy. One her friends had warned her about, and with a cautious reputation, seeing as she hadn’t even brought up so much as the idea of him with anyone else. It had started slow, careful and quiet. Meetings at coffee shops posing as casual friends, quickly turning into being greeted with sticky apple pastry lips, licking into his mouth with her bitter tea stained tongue. He is a prologue, she thought. A beginning. She realized in June that she loved him. They were combing the aisles of a used bookstore as she kept prodding him to inform her of his favorite novel. “I think you’re my favorite.” he spoke quietly. “I could read you for hours, you know.” As he stepped closer to her, placing his hands to her waist, fingers digging in there. “I think,” …

A Sad Man’s Ride into Manhattan

Listen While Reading: Thousand Eyes //Of Monsters And Men. It was around three in the morning on the Sunday before Labor Day, and there were only a few people left on the N train of the New York City transit, which was heading towards downtown Manhattan. For the most part it was a pretty quiet ride, apart for the screeches and clicks of the doors as they flew open and closed whenever we would reach a station, the automated “Please stay away from the doors” announcement that followed it each time. The other real noise inside the train was coming from a young man who, for whatever reason, was jumping up and down trying to do flips on the handlebars attached to the roof of the train, and his friend who found his antics hilarious; their echoing laughter left to linger in the air like thick fog on a cold morning. Among the quiet ones, there was a young woman resting in the corner, with earphones on and a baseball cap covering her eyes. The other …

When We First Met

When we first met, I didn’t think much of it, did you? Sure, my cheeks burned and my chest inevitably fluttered, but I did not give any thought to the future of us. Your hair was brown and so were your eyes and we spoke with excitement in our voices when we exchanged numbers. I did not think I would be able to recite your number like my mother’s in the middle of the night when I left my phone on the train and the man at the corner store asked who I wanted to call. You picked me up and took me to your apartment, and I think that was the first night I fell asleep on your couch before you could drive me to my place. I didn’t pay attention to your eyes when they met mine that first day. Did they flicker at mine like they do now? When we first met, your hands were simply hands – nothing complex like they are now. They are soft, but strong and can easily …

Parisian Nights

The sickeningly sweet aroma of perfume wafted through the air. It clung to every object and coated the lungs of partygoers as they moved towards the exits, some fumbling as they went. New loves fawned over one another as the overhead lights began to flicker off. With the only one remaining luminescent perched high atop the old liquor cabinet, the girl was left to her thoughts. The Eiffel Tower flickered in and out of focus as beads of white lit up her lattice and reflected onto Le Seine River. Boats full of wide-eyed tourists swam across the water to take in the spectacle of light that covered their decks in a kaleidoscope of colours. Crammed into the bar were such tourists. Some came from down the street while others came from a world away. Pushing her blonde hair behind her ear, the girl’s unfocused brown eyes sat fixed across the room on a vintage Toulouse-Lautrec poster adorning the wall. It’s faded yellow background appeared like the sun in the midst of night, hung just high …

Meeting by Monet

It was cloudy that morning. I was walking the halls of a beautiful museum I had found when I moved to the city. A man was following me. He had dark hair and he was pretty tall – well, taller than me. I fixed my hair a bit and messed with my sweater, and I tried to tell myself that he wasn’t following me. One day off from work, one nice morning at the museum, it was all I wanted. Of course, this was happening. “Excuse me?” Was I supposed to play nice to my stalker? I turned to him, realizing his eyes were a calm green and not to mention, he looked pretty caught off guard. “You either have great taste in art or you’re following me around.” I added a soft laugh, realizing I just put myself into a situation I never wanted to be part of. “Is there an option to choose both?” I didn’t expect him to answer so confident, so sure of himself. “Why are you following me?” We were …

New York City, a Lover

There is nothing quite like it, the crowded sidewalks, screeching horns, moistened summer air sweetening the filthy streets…. the city to me was paradise. An insane chaotic two weeks where opportunities and fallen promises went to live and die. The weekends were the worst, so many people filtered the streets, the shops, the park, swarming and weaving through the crying sirens of the tumultuous city. I wouldn’t dare go near Times Square, not once during the two weeks, a tourist trap, it was born to consume money. I lived in dorms up near the Spanish Harlem, took the 6 train to school every day from 10-3. The air was hot and sweaty, the steam of the subway would stick to my skin, perspire down my neck, and kiss my burning lips. New York City is like a lover, your home is a partner, New York is the place to run away and live in the night. You see the city grabs your hand and holds it tight as it whispers faintly in your ear, “get …