“Just a little champagne” by Cambria Covell
The champagne had flowed steadily all night it seemed with a new bottle popping open every minute or so. The jazz singer crooned a sad tune about a girl who had lost her lover to the river, while couples clung together as if they were afraid if they pulled apart the other might vanish. Gay laughter came from hidden corners where secrets were whispered lowly into ears and things were done in the shadows that shouldn’t have been done. Smoke hovered in the air like a blanket covering the room. From a corner a girl watched, observing it all, wishing to take part of it but never having the nerve to. She stayed in her seat with only her glass of champagne and a cigarette to keep her company.
The girl had earlier in the evening accepted that was to be her fate for the night when no one took notice of her despite the new dress she wore and the new hair cut she had gotten.
“Excuse me,” someone said, causing her to look up from the drink that she’d been staring into. Standing there in front of her was a tall, skinny, young man with slicked back hair and a fine suit that seemed to fit him like a glove. “But you seem to be the only one not having a ball tonight. Would you care to dance?” He smiled at her which she whole heartedly returned. Then she took the hand that he held out and let him lead her onto the dance floor.
"Any love that is love is right." -Francesa Lia Block
About Me
- Cam
- I write. I act. I like glitter a little too much and live inside my head. Its pretty there. :)
Sunday, December 11, 2011
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
Bookstores by Cambria Covell
She hadn’t gone into the bookstore looking for anything in particular. It was just that as all book lovers know, it was impossible for her to pass up a book shop when she saw one. Upon entering the jingling sound of a bell overhead announced her entrance which made her smile as did the smell of aging paper and dust.
The store itself was small but endless. It was covered in shelves that lined the walls going from top to bottom with books in every nook and cranny. As she browsed she found titles that were as dear to her as old friends things like Pride and Prejudice, as well as The Great Gatsby, and a copy of Mrs. Dalloway which was so old that its cover was taped together to keep it from falling off.
She reached for a copy of a book that she had never heard of before and was surprised when she pulled it back to find someone there that had also been reaching for the same book. It was a beautiful boy with high cheek bones, dark hair that went into his eyes, and his lips curved into a smile.
“Hello,” said the boy.
“Hello,” she replied, smiling as well because she had a feeling that she had found just what she was looking for.
The store itself was small but endless. It was covered in shelves that lined the walls going from top to bottom with books in every nook and cranny. As she browsed she found titles that were as dear to her as old friends things like Pride and Prejudice, as well as The Great Gatsby, and a copy of Mrs. Dalloway which was so old that its cover was taped together to keep it from falling off.
She reached for a copy of a book that she had never heard of before and was surprised when she pulled it back to find someone there that had also been reaching for the same book. It was a beautiful boy with high cheek bones, dark hair that went into his eyes, and his lips curved into a smile.
“Hello,” said the boy.
“Hello,” she replied, smiling as well because she had a feeling that she had found just what she was looking for.
Monday, December 5, 2011
Gone by Cambria Covell
Together we lay in the grassy field under the velvet night sky and stared up at the stars. His large hand intertwined with my small one, covering it whole. I rested my head against his chest. The sound of his heart beat going thump, thump, thump lulled me into a peaceful sleep. When I woke, I reached for him to find only air. I was back in my room that I had never left. It was only a dream. The constant ache from being alone because he had been gone for so long was what was real. Even though I wanted to close my eyes and go back to sleep to see if I could dream him up again, I reluctantly got up from my bed to face the day. I couldn’t stop just because he wasn’t there anymore.
Love Songs by Cambria Covell
The girl wore a bright yellow sundress with white ballet flats. Her blond hair was pulled back with a black ribbon while the bike she was peddling on was darkly colored with a wicker basket attached to the handle bars. She peddled down the lane with the sun beating down her back as she hummed a tune she had heard on the radio earlier that day. It had something to do with remembering and love.
Behind her, a young boy followed her on his own bike. He had been watching the girl for quite some time in class and wanted to talk to her. He just could never think of anything to say but that day he managed to pluck up the courage. “Adeline!” he called. The girl didn’t hear him though. She was too busy enjoying her bike ride and her head was too filled with love songs.
Behind her, a young boy followed her on his own bike. He had been watching the girl for quite some time in class and wanted to talk to her. He just could never think of anything to say but that day he managed to pluck up the courage. “Adeline!” he called. The girl didn’t hear him though. She was too busy enjoying her bike ride and her head was too filled with love songs.
Saturday, December 3, 2011
Tintype by Cambria Covell
He had fallen in the snow. Or had he been shot? It had been so long ago that he could not remember. The young man only knew that he was too tired to get up so he stayed on the cold, hard ground. There was no more gunfire, or cannon fire, or the sounds of shouts or cries of men ringing out. There was only the stillness of silence which to him was somehow more terrifying than the noise that had erupted on the battlefield not so long ago.
His wool jacket was doing little to keep him warm. The falling snow hit his face with each snow flake feeling like ice piercing through his skin. He tried to think of something else besides the cold or the smell of blood, like copper, that was so strong it overpowered everything else.
Had it really only been just weeks ago that he had signed up, only weeks? It seemed a life time in between the new faces some young, some old that he had met and all the things he had had to learn. Everything was a blur of blue and grey, campfire songs, marching and food that had always had a slight burnt taste to it or had been too cold which made him miss his Mama’s cooking so fiercely it hurt.
The only thing he missed more had been her, the girl he had left behind, who had cried at the river that was in the woods of their town when he’d told her that he was going. The tears had smudged her otherwise pretty, pale face while the sunlight had danced on her golden curls. She had shoved him hard shouting, “Leave! Go on then, leave! And I don’t care if you ever come back.” Then she’d run away and he had let her.
Yet it had been only days after he had marched off to battle when a letter came for him with a tintype enclosed and a two worded letter that was brief and to the point. Come back. It had made him soar for days on end, and the tintype of the girl never left his breast pocket.
He wanted to see it now only he was so cold that he could barely move. If he did it slowly, perhaps he could manage to pull it out so that he could see her face again. He managed to move his arm across his chest then ever so slowly he moved his hand until his fingers finally grasped it.
A smile crossed his face. He had done it. But now he was tired. The movement had taken so much out of him. His eyes started to flutter as he struggled to keep them open but it was useless. He had no more fight in him to keep them open. They closed. It was time to rest. Just for a moment though, just for a moment…then he would see her face again.
His wool jacket was doing little to keep him warm. The falling snow hit his face with each snow flake feeling like ice piercing through his skin. He tried to think of something else besides the cold or the smell of blood, like copper, that was so strong it overpowered everything else.
Had it really only been just weeks ago that he had signed up, only weeks? It seemed a life time in between the new faces some young, some old that he had met and all the things he had had to learn. Everything was a blur of blue and grey, campfire songs, marching and food that had always had a slight burnt taste to it or had been too cold which made him miss his Mama’s cooking so fiercely it hurt.
The only thing he missed more had been her, the girl he had left behind, who had cried at the river that was in the woods of their town when he’d told her that he was going. The tears had smudged her otherwise pretty, pale face while the sunlight had danced on her golden curls. She had shoved him hard shouting, “Leave! Go on then, leave! And I don’t care if you ever come back.” Then she’d run away and he had let her.
Yet it had been only days after he had marched off to battle when a letter came for him with a tintype enclosed and a two worded letter that was brief and to the point. Come back. It had made him soar for days on end, and the tintype of the girl never left his breast pocket.
He wanted to see it now only he was so cold that he could barely move. If he did it slowly, perhaps he could manage to pull it out so that he could see her face again. He managed to move his arm across his chest then ever so slowly he moved his hand until his fingers finally grasped it.
A smile crossed his face. He had done it. But now he was tired. The movement had taken so much out of him. His eyes started to flutter as he struggled to keep them open but it was useless. He had no more fight in him to keep them open. They closed. It was time to rest. Just for a moment though, just for a moment…then he would see her face again.
Apologies and Coffee by Cambria Covell
The winter wind nipped at her cheeks as she buried herself down into her jacket to keep warm. Her scarf kept on getting blown up in her face much to her annoyance. She had long since given up on stopping it. To make matters worse, her socks were soaked through from her long walk in the snow. Relief filled her when the coffee shop she’d agreed to meet him at earlier came into view.
The girl pushed opened the door. Overhead, there was the sound of a bell jingling announcing her entrance which could still be heard despite the loud, grinding of the coffee beans being crushed by the machine. Lively chatter filled the café which was busy due to the recent cold weather.
Her eyes searched the coffee shop for the boy that she had walked there in the cold to see. He had promised he wouldn’t be late but those promises along with many others were usually empty. When she didn’t see him, she reluctantly went to the counter to order then found a spot in the back to sit down in. She told herself she would only stay for ten minutes then leave if he didn’t come after that because the last time she had waited two hours during which he’d never shown.
She tapped her fingers on the table trying her hardest not to look at the clock on the wall. Just then the bell overhead the door jingled again. Automatically she looked over, prepared to be disappointed.
Only she wasn’t because he was there holding a big, hand written sign with the word SORRY in big, bold lettering. She smiled. All was forgiven.
The girl pushed opened the door. Overhead, there was the sound of a bell jingling announcing her entrance which could still be heard despite the loud, grinding of the coffee beans being crushed by the machine. Lively chatter filled the café which was busy due to the recent cold weather.
Her eyes searched the coffee shop for the boy that she had walked there in the cold to see. He had promised he wouldn’t be late but those promises along with many others were usually empty. When she didn’t see him, she reluctantly went to the counter to order then found a spot in the back to sit down in. She told herself she would only stay for ten minutes then leave if he didn’t come after that because the last time she had waited two hours during which he’d never shown.
She tapped her fingers on the table trying her hardest not to look at the clock on the wall. Just then the bell overhead the door jingled again. Automatically she looked over, prepared to be disappointed.
Only she wasn’t because he was there holding a big, hand written sign with the word SORRY in big, bold lettering. She smiled. All was forgiven.
Monday, June 20, 2011
Happiness by Cambria Covell
Two men stood before me. One was dressed impeccably, in a suit that must have cost a fortune and he was smoking a cigar. The other man was dressed in well worn, humble looking clothes. He had lines on his face, which was tanned from spending so many hours in the sun.
"What do you do?" I asked them both.
The man in the suit smiled. "I work for a firm. I make more money than you could ever imagine. Some of that money I keep and some of it I donate to charity. When I get home I eat dinner by myself, read a book, and then go to sleep."
The other man, the one that was poorly dressed, said, "I'm a farmer. I get up early and I work all day in the fields. By the time I'm finished I'm exhausted but at the end of the day, I sit down to dinner with my wife and family."
"Are you happy?" I asked.
"Yes," they both said.
"What do you do?" I asked them both.
The man in the suit smiled. "I work for a firm. I make more money than you could ever imagine. Some of that money I keep and some of it I donate to charity. When I get home I eat dinner by myself, read a book, and then go to sleep."
The other man, the one that was poorly dressed, said, "I'm a farmer. I get up early and I work all day in the fields. By the time I'm finished I'm exhausted but at the end of the day, I sit down to dinner with my wife and family."
"Are you happy?" I asked.
"Yes," they both said.
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