story::pages.genre.romance_.description
story::pages.genre.romance_.intro_text
story::pages.genre.romance_.intro_text_2
Gordon Fink looked in the bathroom mirror, muttering to himself, shaking his head, "You look like an old man,” he said, leaning over the sink, staring into his eyes, and took off his glasses then moved his face closer to the mirror, noticing the wrinkles...
New Year, New Beginnings She woke up the first day of the new year with a new outlook. She already had an appointment to get her hair done, her nails done and half her closet bagged up for Goodwill. When Christmas came and she spent it with her family, sh...
After a long time when the colonel said nothing Hans asked, “And what is the bad news?” The colonel smiled slightly with an expression of complex appreciation. “Private Rickmers, you are a credit to the German Army. You know how to smile at death.” The co...
‘We approach each other, I gaze in your face, I find your lips tender, as we kiss in a daze. Again and again we kiss, with each more yearning then before, Then, I awaken, I am alone, yet not so alone as before.’ “There is Cayo Lobos, just up ahead.” Brian...
Patches of snow flecked the dirt road in rural France as a squad of German soldiers rode by on motorcycles. A land mine exploded, destroying the first motorcycle, and killing the rider. The other motorcycles crashed. Their riders tried to shoot at unseen...
Her side Dear who ever, I'm not sure why I decided to start writing in a diary, maybe because I would rather write it all out than say it to someone else... Even though I'm kind of just talking to myself ... But it doesn't matter, I still would rather tal...
Dear ... It doesn't really matter nobody will ever read this. Hi, I'm Zander. My therapist says I should keep a diary, and I thought it be a good idea until I realized that it wasn't. I hate writing, I always have, and I don't really think it would matter...
Finding Home It was October 1968, (according to the Gregorian calendar) Claire sat on the edge of her bed preparing to write a letter to her parents in England. She ran her fingers through her newly cropped brown hair thinking. Her room made of plywood wi...
The elderly woman over the road was painting her front door green. I thought it a bit stupid as it was trying to rain. But I admired her determination and obvious optimism that the rain wouldn’t come to much. She had carefully placed an old sheet on the p...
July 8th, 2010Dear Diary, Today is another beautiful, sunny, summer day. Not too hot, not too cold. It seems as though everyone and their mothers, fathers, aunts, uncles, cousins, sisters, brothers and grandparents are out for a stroll through town. The s...
‘Is this seat taken?’ asked a quietly spoken man whom Veronica had never seen before. She shook her head, ‘no, go ahead’. The elderly man took his seat and placed a shopping bag between his feet. His hands unfolded a newspaper in front of him as the train...
I only come into this dive of a bar for one thing, and that's not the beer. I'm hoping to catch another look at that cute little blonde barmaid, the one that works the early shift when things are quiet.Steffanie her name is and I'm planning on making a mo...
You need not know my age, my name and you need not know where I come from. You should, however, be familiar with my brief account. The briefest would read; I fell in love. However, that would not express wholly the intense passion which I fell captive to...
I woke up on a bright Saturday morning to the birds chirping and the sun shining in my face. Today is our wedding anniversary and I have something to tell my husband of one year. My gift to him is one he’ll never expect. I look up and see my husband carry...
