humanity
Humanity begins at home.
THE LAST EMPEROR
Similar to when a pounding rain breaks against the fast clip of a windshield, exploding in radial bursts of thin lines, the cracks in the windows were so many raindrops catching and throwing the morning light. Spider-web shadows crept across the silent rooms of the sleeping house. It was vacant now, and steadily falling into greater and greater disrepair. The little house stood last in a row of similar structures, lining the gently bent, dead-end street. The street too, was becoming more and more derelict. Among all the houses, nearly every other one showed signs of neglect. Paint chips scattered in odd piles like little heaps of strange white, blue, and green snow around the weed ridden dirt lawns. Missing shingles left bald patches on the rooves as the dandy lions tangled and tied them to the ground. The absence of scattered newspapers and phonebooks on the doorsteps marked the inhabited ones, crisscrossing ruts in the dirt indicating that someone had at least tried to tame the rampant weeds. Large amebic patches, slightly off from the original colors, struggled to hide the houses’ molting skins.
By Jeffrey Wigen5 years ago in Families
EBONY & IVORY
09/24/2014 What's the difference between a journal and a diary? I always thought the two were essentially the same, you know? They both are books. They both obtain the ability to be written in, and they both keep a record of something. I'm the type of the person who researches anything at any given moment. So, according to a quick google search: a journal is a book used to explore ideas that take shape, whereas a diary is a book used to record events as they happen.
By Angel Mizhquiri5 years ago in Families
FINDING HER LAND
The stack of boxes overwhelms Vicky, and she wants to quit sorting and let herself sob. She's downsizing to an apartment. She lost her job six months ago and doesn't start the new one for another two. The utilities are near disconnection, and she's behind in the mortgage, student loans, and car payment. So she's selling her house and someone is interested.
By Dale Fern Mills5 years ago in Families
The Box
Twenty thousand dollars is a lot of money to put on the line, but that’s exactly what the letter said was at stake. All Monica had to do was not open the box the letter came with, attached via envelope. All she had to do was not open it for a week, and she got to keep the money. Twenty thousand dollars to not open the box that was about fourteen by fourteen by twelve inches, and now sat in her closet. It was hidden, of course, though primarily because everything was on the floor in there. She never was quite good about hanging clothes up. It was so much easier to just toss everything inside. The cat didn’t mind. That just meant there were plenty of hiding spots for him. That was one of the benefits of living alone- nobody chided her for having a messy apartment. It wasn’t a pigsty, but it wasn’t the most organized either, and showed signs of habitation, unlike so many places kept to look like they were ready for home buyers to tour.
By Kamryn Norland5 years ago in Families
The Olive Branch
“I don’t give a hoot about selling checking accounts,” Katie scribbled down on her notepad as she listened to Ringo Blandford, the head of investment and sales, deliver his spiel on peeling the onion. “You see folks, you have to connect with the client on a personal level and get down to the very core and essence of their hopes and dreams…and then and only then will you earn their trust and their business.”
By Donna_Stevens_Writes5 years ago in Families
Another Once Upon a Time Story
Foreword from the author: Hello dear reader! This narrative poem came to life after watching a documentary on the Aokigahara forest. The black notebook theme only appears at the end of the story. Please note that all names are fictional. To enhance the mood of the poem, I have also decided to narrate the story on Youtube, and also linked Vocal’s website in the description. The embedded video can also be found here:
By Kunipatootie5 years ago in Families
Enduring Legacies
Since the onset of his mature consciousness Sixtus had never come close to establishing any definitive sense of meaning or direction – he had drifted obediently along the path assigned to him from early childhood, fulfilling what was expected of him, – no more, no less – and so the weeks, months and years elapsed undramatically. He did not feel wronged or coerced yet was burdened with a persistent longing for something intangible of which he had been deprived so far – some creative outlet which eluded him.
By Michael Mason5 years ago in Families
On Rue
02-08-2121 Dear Little Black Book, Poppy Jones here, and my heart is extremely heavy. I found out that my great-grandmother, the one who lived out in Bakersfield, died just early this morning. I remember she told the funniest stories about her times in the city of San Diego growing up, and how she enjoyed her swims, her sunday school teaching, and learning to braid hair from her grandma. Her real name is Alice Ruth Jones. Mama Rue (that's what we called her) was ahead of her time. She was extremely intelligent and got accepted to Harvard at the age of 15, as the college held its prestige for 485 years, and is now the university that I attend at 15. Mama Rue invented 237 working pieces of technology that have changed that face of our civilization. She was an engineer and an architect in one. She enjoyed working and creating the first new designs, of aeroautomobiles at the tender age of 29. She lived to be 96! My mom and grandma both passed away before she did from breast and lung cancer respectively, so she definitely stood the test of time. I was raised my Mama Rue. My family says I take after her smile and charm. I think that makes me happy and other times, it reminds me that I miss her and feel sad every time I feel happy. Miss you Mama Rue 🖤
By Tasha Matthews5 years ago in Families
The Day I Will Never Forget
A world-wide pandemic had hit and turned our lives upside down in the year 2020. I owned a little bakery in Harlem called Johnson’s Buns that was passed down from my grandfather to my father and then to me. With New York being in lockdown we were losing income rapidly, yet our bills were pilling up. For the first time I felt like I was failing my father and grandfather. I was now officially a failure with a giant debt. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing the shop. I grew up in this bakery and have so many fond memories.
By Jocelyn Jayasooria5 years ago in Families
