vintage
Vintage content about relationships, unions and romances past.
The Moonlit ball
The Beginning Hello My name is Eloise and this is my journey into life experience abandonment, being loved, knowing loss, mysteriously gaining a big chunk of money, to finding true love all because of this little black book that was cherished by the woman who raised me. In all of my life I never once expected my life to end up teaching me the ways of aloneness, lost, grief being found, then alone again and then eventually in the end finding love in the most hardest and tragic way
By Cora Sturdy5 years ago in Humans
Coming in to 20,000$
Katie was always indignant about the way she spent. Uncertain and coiffed by a determination to spend and become new. Have an idea to herself and be like the rest of the people around her. Unfortunately this wasn’t what she was. She was ugly, frail and avoidant of any real issues that came her way. She hated death and everything that surrounded it. And there was a lot of good surrounding it.
By Katie Whyte5 years ago in Humans
The Stamp Collection
Charlotte was impatiently waiting outside the front door of an old mid-century style home on a crisp Friday morning. The wait had been almost two hours, and she was finally next in line. Any minute she would be inside to see what treasures could be found. Charlotte was a bit angry at herself for not getting up earlier, what were other people finding before her? She was anxiously awaiting to see what was in there.
By Carrie Hersch5 years ago in Humans
Little Miss Perfect
Ask anyone at my high school and they will tell you that Clair Alexander is perfect. She’s hot, smart, athletic, popular, and good at everything. However that’s not true, I suck at being patient, minding my own business, and keeping my mouth shut. So I’m not good at eeeeverything, but most things. My life is perfect. I get good grades, I’m really popular, the best athlete at school, I have lots of friends and the perfect boyfriend. As far as I could see my life was going to be amazing.
By Victoria Hill5 years ago in Humans
The Little Black Book
It was ninety-five degrees outside, and a hundred and five inside the lower barracks. I fought long and hard this morning with Mom about going out to the fort on such a hot and humid day. Summers in coastal North Carolina are the southern cliche of hot, humid, and sticky. To put it short, it's a terrible day to be outside, much less deep inside Fort Macon's inner structure.
By Charlotte Russell5 years ago in Humans
At A Quarter Past Noon
To him, life and his craft were a similar construction - easily measured and assessed. Like the shadow of a plumb line, it was the straight lines that gave both strength and purpose. Banty Aynesworth was a man governed by precision. He always arrived on time, his mule lurching in worn traces maneuvered artlessly by the taciturn man perched in the buckboard. But what he lacked in grace he made up for in practicality. Who knew what drew him to such a macabre profession? His stepfather, by all accounts, had been boisterous and dependable. Later in life, however, he would share his son’s penchant for keeping to the roads. Instead of putting Banty’s hand to the plow, he had put it to the saw, and taught him to tame thickets of wild-grown oaks and pines into sleek boards. From his stepfather also came Banty’s personal creed: “A man honors his commitments and see things through.”
By Ria Carriger5 years ago in Humans
