To End All Wars by Luke T Trouwborst Why did World War II really occur? The rash actions of a few Frenchmen and Americans. The story... [506 words]
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Jane Doe Seven by Sooz Sooz The Begining of the Seventh book in the Jane doe series. [980 words]
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Mere Life Less Love
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TITLE (EDIT)
Mere Life Less Love |
DESCRIPTION
A short projection of private thoughts regarding love and life.
[276 words] |
AUTHOR
Gregory Novak |
ABOUT
THE AUTHOR
A twenty-something jack-of-all-trades that has simple been exploring the craft of writing for longer than he can remember. Whilst humour is a fickle mistress that comes and goes, he must admit that tragedy and romance consume the bulk of his creative efforts.
[January 2008] |
AUTHOR'S E-MAIL ADDRESS
ultrafunkulah@hotmail.com |
AUTHOR'S OTHER TITLES (17)
Alexandria (Poetry) Just a quick little verse I scribbled down one day on a whim celebrating the destruction of knowledge. [24 words] [History]
Ballad Of The Opiate King (Poetry) - [151 words]
Birds (Poetry) Oh, the things we do... [159 words] [Romance]
Collected Poems (Poetry) A collection of some of the poetry I've written over the years; most of it follows the same or similar rhyming scheme and cadence (yes, most of it rhymes... sorry folks), but the material covered vari... [1,331 words]
Consciousness Stream 1 (Poetry) A relatively lengthy piece I simply spit out one day whilst feeling inexplicably intoxicated (for I was under no influence). [300 words] [Mind]
How She Stirs Not At All (Short Stories) - [319 words]
I Should Think It Like A Fist (Non-Fiction) A semi-conscious rant on language, love and whatever else I found offensive that day. [493 words] [Psychology]
I Think You'd Like Her (Short Stories) A soliloquy of sorts, we find a young man reflecting on a love now lost. [1,440 words] [Romance]
Moments, A Lamentation (Non-Fiction) - [500 words] [Romance]
Of Art, Pt. 1 (Non-Fiction) An undulating rant on Art and its relevance to civilized life. [489 words] [Psychology]
Princes And Lesser (Poetry) An exercise in entendre. [117 words] [Literary Fiction]
Reflections On A Sunrise (Short Stories) A very old fable I stumbled across that I had written some years ago. I still reading it from time to time, I like what I was trying to do here, inspirational and all of that. [1,037 words] [Fable]
Stranded At Dusk (Short Stories) I've labeled this as a short story, although my original intent was to develop this into a longer work, possibly a novella or full-length novel. [1,690 words] [Thriller]
Sunday Morning (Short Stories) Memories. Just... memories. [458 words] [Literary Fiction]
The Mad Diarist (Short Stories) The first fragments of a diary have been discovered buried beneath the dust of an old condemned building. The author's identity remains a mystery. [347 words] [Horror]
The Opiate King (Poetry) In Memorium of a Great Man. [151 words] [Mystical]
Worlds Apart (Short Stories) A series of piggybacking streams of consciousness, effectively stages of one man's reflection on the woman he's left for reasons (and duration) unknown. [1,595 words] [Relationships]
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Mere Life Less Love
Gregory Novak
I want to skip through the bulk of my life and come to rest fifty years from now, old, happy, in the twilight of my life, with her. I want to look at her and see an entire lifetime of love and friendship, knowing that we´ve come so far together having enjoyed a lifetime love between us; to know that I have somehow managed to be a great man, even despite my myriad faults, and if only in her eyes. To know that we´ve come so far together that my heart and mind may rest each day and night, secure in there being no danger of us parting. Not now. Not anymore.
"Are we there yet?" I ask her, as I often do after making love, or sharing dinner, and she replies only with, "We´re getting there... I promise." And it is the promise that gets me. Every time. Like the final expectant note of an oft heard song. My breath halts or just a second, a moment frozen in time and yet stretched out through eternity. And then I breathe again, slowly, fully, quietly, inwardly mocking my own undue surprise each time and now again. My sublimation at that final word.
Love. Complete.
"Are we there yet?" I ask again. The noonday sun hangs high in the summer blue sky, children rampant in the yard we´ve built. One girl, three years old baring a nose only faintly reminiscient. One boy, older with hair not entirely unlike my own if only thicker, darker. Younger.
I ask again, taking her withered hand into my own, my perpetual tremor abating in the warmth of her grasp, her gaze, the sun.
And we are.
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COPYRIGHT NOTICE
© 2007 Gregory Novak |
STORYMANIA PUBLICATION DATE
September 2007 |
NUMBER OF TIMES TITLE VIEWED
1654
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