Love
Sandy's Candies
Start writing... This was it! It had to stop! This addiction would kill her! Here Martina stood, naked in her kitchen with chocolate cake crumbs scattered across her lips afraid to look down at the scale. She did not want to see the number. She had just inhaled another piece of delicious triple chocolate cake topped with mint chocolate shavings and filled with maraschino cherries from Sandy's Candies, her go-to chocolate shop. When she sat down on her sofa to watch some tv the button on her pants burst off, it flew across the room and landed in the kitchen with a sickening clink. She jumped up and ran to the hallway closet to dig out her scale. It was crammed in the bottom under mounds of unused sports equipment racquets, a softball bat, boxing gloves, of course multiple shoes that were little more than one time use such as snow boots, ballet slippers, snorkeling flippers. She stripped off her clothes in the middle of her breakdown and threw her unfastenable pants straight into the trash bin. She would not mend them. Those pants were dead to her.
By Regina Hernandez5 years ago in Fiction
It Was Always You
“Hey,” I motioned to the waiter with my hand as I sat down on the tall bar stool. “Can I get,” I searched the wedding dessert menu in front of me with a numb expression. “A slice of chocolate cake, please?” The waiter nodded and walked to the back to get it. I sighed and laid my little black purse on the granite counter as I turned my seat to face the dance floor. Everyone was still eating their dessert, fortunately for me, no one had begun slow dancing. It was hard enough going to these weddings alone, where two people swore to devote their love and lives to each other. But seeing them dancing across the floor, looking into each other's eyes like that, it was just too much for me to take. The waiter came back with a little silver plate and a huge slice of cake. My mouth watered with expectations. I thanked him and reached for a fork, ready to eat my feelings, when suddenly…
By Amelia Carter 5 years ago in Fiction
It's A Date
Story 1: Love In Two Days - Part of a three-part story series "Have you heard of the Raging Bull County Fair?" Ever since getting out of Ozan's car yesterday, we've been in constant communication. Our text thread alone looks like we've been in a three-year committed relationship. I feel a sense of relief talking to him. I've never felt this way towards a man before, and I must say, "I like it here."
By teisha leshea5 years ago in Fiction
The Lonely Baker
There’s many small joys in life, for me there’s nothing more joyous than a coffee and a sweet treat. So when Ben invited me on a date at the Revelier Hotel, famous for its decadent cakes and fancy desserts, I was chuffed. I really hoped that this date would go well because I didn’t want it to spoil my memories of the Revelier. I was wearing my doc marten boots and my new pretty summer dress, it was too cold really for a linen dress like this, but I was too excited to wear it! My docs and black denim jacket made it bearable.
By Melanie Baker 5 years ago in Fiction
The Black Mamba in the 'Misery of Bitterness'
Bexley stood balancing herself on the edge of the curb; a soft rain had begun to fall around her- causing strangers to take cover or release the springs of packed umbrellas over their heads. Not her. The rain wasn't a concern of hers. Nothing much was lately, like she had decided that all the monotonous routine of life and society wasn't mandatory for her at the moment. It could lean its pressure on someone else for a while; Bexley had had quite enough thank you. She stood staring at a black corner café, the front window a promise of sweet, peculiar treats. The shop's name 'The Misery of Bitterness' stirred the twitch of a smile, making her focus on the boards out front. The neat scroll of coloured chalk named desserts like 'Gothic gingerbreads,' 'Mamba Mud cake,' 'Crypt Custards,' and 'Immoral ice-cream.' She had been wandering again, making her feet move. One after the other, small even steps and came across it. Bexley wasn't sure which part of town she was even in or if she had entered another; all she knew was that she wanted to go inside. Crossing the streets without checking, a white Volkswagen beetle screeched on its brakes. A short, balding man behind the wheel wound down his window, yelling obscenities at Bexley. His words fell with the rain; she crossed without even a glance his way.
By Kirsten Blyton5 years ago in Fiction
