/lit/ - Literature

>>22280285
You're a tsundere at best, and so is Satan. The creature cannot help but desire the creator.

>>8702070
This. Embrace postmodernism faggot.

>>7976831

I wrote this today, so very rough. But the story follows the narrator and gets wacky, but things are supposed to seem off. I feel that needs to be said.

The War

I couldn't remember the last time I had felt as small as when I was isolated in the main chapel of The St. Mary Cathedral in Florence. The grandiosity of the apse commanded the vast, vibrant reign of the stain-glass illuminated pews. The sensation dumbfounded me for the moment, making it hard to forget. Though many tourists and fellow travellers were surrounding me, isolation was difficult not to feel. I've really earned some respect for Brunelleschi since that day, let me tell you. It is not by accident that the chapel is so renowned and iconic.
Even so, at this moment, with my life-long doctor resiliently holding my gaze while I read his lips tell me I have late-stage, terminal cancer.. I've become infinitely smaller. It wasn't a feeling this time.
And I can hear just fine. But the words didn't register. *..register? .. .. click ..haha.. damn..*
Again, I see him tell me something I can't understand, but I'm sure was along the lines of; ... you're married, so... there's your silver lining, followed by a forced chuckle.
He reaches his hand out to give me emotional support through my shoulder blade. I can't help but stare at the indentation around his finger. All these years and he's never changed. *bastard*
Im unable to focus on him. I can't believe I'm back in Florence on that day..
'Hello?'
..Maria? Is that you? Maria! I can see her standing over in the fourth row of pews with her mother. Just like she was.. ...
'Hello, Niko? Should I leave you be, buddy, are you going to be okay?'
'Oh!.. I'm sorry, I'm.. I'm going to be ok. I was, just thinking about something. That's all.'
I stared past him and into his cabinet supply cabinets. They were a brilliant new coat of white. Or wait, are they black? I can't tell for some... He continued looking at me with the kind of eyes you give an angsty teen you know is hiding something but don't know if you really should be concerned. *seriously?* I couldn't ignore it.
'So.. I'm dying.. There. I'm dying. I'm going to die. Is this what's supposed to happen? I've got to say it to make it better? I'M DYING! HOW'S THAT! IS THIS RIGHT! Tell me!'
The quiet following was paliple. McCormick was looking through me. Or more like looking away from me while looking right at me. As if I couldn't feel any smaller.. Now I'm both quantum and theoretical. *nice*
'Look, Ron, I really am sorry. I, you know, I've thought about death so much of my life. I've thought about it with an iron fist and absolute abstraction.' *fucking Brunelleschi* 'I've joked about it with myself as much as with my friends: hundreds of times. But.. I'm learning that it can't be solidified. No matter how much you try to build it up, death, death is just something that's always one step beyond your best comprehension. It is...' *haha*

>continued

I'm looking to get my brother books for Christmas. He's interested in being a neurosurgeon, and in medicine in general.

Other than Grey's anatomy, what would you recommend?