The Death Of Love - Original Writing

Memories of the night before became a vivid memory in the recesses of his dimly lit mind, underneath the sunlight's intruding yet blissful gaze and the sensation of silk against his bare skin felt like a euphoria, a river of midnight encased his slender figure and with the scrunch of his refined nose and furrowed knit of his thin eyebrows, he rose from his slumber. Delicate fingertips leisurely danced across the silken sheets which lost its assuaging warmth only to discern that he was gone, Padding through the spacious house far too big for two alone to fill, and too much of a burden for one to find comfort in. To see his lover, clad in a suit that managed to take his breath away immediately

Later that night, I was comforting Vinyl at the news she and I got today. We were lying in bed together, our bodies pressing up against each other as we held each other close; I caressed the area around her eyes, trying to help her sleep, hoping that it would dwindle the tension she had within

The common theme that I found throughout these three articles was our ability to handle the topic of death. People (at least I know I personally do this) tend to side step the topic of death. We use terms such as “passed away” or “aren’t with us anymore” in order to sugarcoat the true reality of the situation. “Die” to us just sounds so harsh and terrifying. Not only do we phrase death in certain ways, but we also tend to ignore the facts. Wolff talks about how we all know how we are going to end up: we all have subconsciously acknowledged that it is highly likely that we will end up in a hospital bed somewhere unable to remember our closest friends and family. However, we put this in the back of our mind and do not think about it. This is

"Snow" is a short story in which Ann Beattie, the author, presents an often unheard of view of her lover. The main character, experiences the heart warming of love towards her lover rather than the desolation of loneliness after her lover doesn’t come back. Later, when the lady learns that her lover is still out there, she knows that all hope of her lover coming back is still there. The crushing disappointment kills her that her lover just left her out there all alone for the winter. Published in the earlier where love was so true and courageous, the oppressive narrated nature of love in "Snow" may well be a reflection of their love to each other.

“You didn't have to catch the bloody bouquet though” Ric grinned as he once again whispered softly in her ear.

He could feel her next to him, holding tightly onto his hand as they trekked through the quiet city. The sheer beauty invaded every ounce of his being, filling him with a feeling that could only be described as breathtaking, overwhelming joy. Her smile, beautifully illuminated by the lights around them, refused to dull. The world around them seemed to disappear with every small kiss they stole from each

The stirrings had returned, and he felt a little guilty and embarrassed about the pleasurable dreams that came to him as he slept. And his new, heightened feelings permeated a greater realm than simply his sleep. But he knew he couldn’t go back to the world of no feeling that he had lived in so long.

He half knelt, half climbed onto the bed, bearing her down onto the mattress. Onto her back so that her long tresses splayed out around her head like a halo. He couldn't help but notice the small peaks of her nipples, the rich fabric lifted on both breasts, and realised with a flush of embarrassment that he was stiff within his trousers. It wasn't anything she hadn't seen before, in all those stolen moments in half-shadowed rooms and fields, but there was a sudden newness to it all nevertheless. This was different...so different...with her cousin sleeping down the corridor.

Some nights he even let himself imagine what it would be like to fall asleep next to someone again, they arms around him or their head on his chest, the warmth of them holding onto him, fingers interlaced as they slept. Sam thought about what it would be like to be touched, and while it made him ache, it comforted him enough to let him fall

Her breathing slowed and despite how hard she tried to fight it sleep tugged at her senses. She heard Alex's voice, but the words seemed lost as she sank deeper into her sleepy state. She had been working all day, and current events had been a roller coaster of emotions. Gabby was honestly drained, and before Alex could get his apology out she was out. A soft snore was the only response he received when finally done with his admission. Gabby had fallen asleep, her legs still draped over him as she rested back against the

Ric rolled his eyes as he grabbed her legs and pulled her down from above him, clambering over her as Serena shrieked in laughter. As he hovered above her, their noses rubbed and lips met, finding a level of contentment in which nothing else seemed to matter in this

“So I can have more little Pipers for to keep you company?” She asked. He reached a puff of cloud and patted her curly red head. A smile creased on his lush white lips.

It all started the way any story starts, there is a child born. This child tho isn’t what you’d call normal. He was able to take life away. You see, before now life stayed, there was no death, and pain wasn’t very common. At the young age of five he found out exactly what he could do. You see, he went to give his own mother a hug, but she fell down at his feet. She didn’t get up, didn’t move, and just lied there.No one had ever seen anything like this ever before so they burried his mom in the ground hoping to contain whatever had happened, becuse of that we now have funerals now. Deaths life was not easy because eventually he felt himself hurting if he did not take lives. He wouldn’t die, but the pain he felt was worse than being eaten

The ringing of his breath in her ears. The pleasure in his screams like a wolf not stealing but claiming its prey. She remembered being silent. Tortured. Raped.

Naturally, their lips met again; yet this time with passionate undertones; a move that failed to go unnoticed by a few colleagues who had seen the strike of 12 as a cue to move to another venue. A few ‘wit-woos’ had caused the pair to part; they relationship unintentionally public knowledge yet that felt okay.