humanity

Humanity begins at home.

The Rabbit Hole
After reassuring her best friend, Creek, that she was fine and would call him later with an update, Merlot closed the door and went back to the dining room table. She picked up Dr. De Funk’s business card. “Miss Crenshaw.” De Funk answered the call after only three rings. Merlot’s throat was dry. She was nervous and a little scared. “Doctor…”, she started. “Call me Herman. Please. ” De Funk insisted.
By Afro Purgatory 5 years ago in Families
Ticker and Sticks
“I’ve come into some money,” my mother said. She carried on slicing onions on the kitchen counter without looking up at me.
By Andrew Lane5 years ago in Families
Listen
For listening is the act of entering the skin of the other and wearing it for a time as if it were our own. Listening is the gateway to understanding.
By Toni Compton5 years ago in Families
What happened in Mr.Nywambie's house?
Mr. Nywambie is dead Mr. Nywambie is dead. In a house that is in the city of Barcelona lives an old man, so old called Nywambie. That man has diabetes.
By Sandra Bongjoh5 years ago in Families
Twenty Thousand Blessings
TWENTY THOUSAND BLESSINGS As soon as the bell rang, Calvin dashed out of the classroom. Today at lunch, one of the Johnson brothers accused him of looking at his girlfriend. They had threatened him.
By Yvonne Weems5 years ago in Families
Mom and Dad and the Camera
On a chilly spring day in 1955, my family drives to West Point to watch the cadets march. My sisters talk excitedly as we travel from Hastings-on-Hudson. I sit between them on the back seat.
By Caroni Lombard5 years ago in Families
SOAR-R-R-R
AND THAT VERY day it rained. No, not the fine cold drizzle common for this time of year in late November, with the air chilled to a crisp and a mist so fine you can wave your hand through it and not feel wet. Today’s rain was different, and Bryan was aware of it the instant he cracked his eyes and squinted at the curtains. It was an all-out downpour moving swiftly, and strong. Big angry raindrops pushed by wind, splashed on rooftops, pavement, cars; slamming hard like pebbles against Bryan’s windowpanes as he lay listening to its noise. He knew today was going to be messy.
By Jyme Pride5 years ago in Families
Rainbows
The forest swallowed her up like a gulp of lemonade. It was a summer day, and her mouth felt the parch, but the taste of the day ahead filled her to the brim with dreams of reckless adventure and dauntless imagination that only exist for a mere season known as the age of thirteen. Ambition drove her to the hills, crunching through fallen leaves and feeling whimsical next to the hidden gems in the babbling wooded brook. Anything could happen here if she wanted it to, and anything could not happen here, too. She followed her normal dirt path and put her childish dreams on play as she passed the third line of trees and followed her heart into the wilderness’ abyss.
By Alyssa Victoria5 years ago in Families
Strangers
The table wobbled as Julia sat down, placing the large, beige ceramic mug on the table. Smoke from her latte drifted into the air, catching a ray of sun peeking through the coffee shop’s window. On a typical Tuesday, this would have made for the perfect Instagram photo. But today Julia was distracted.
By Rob Totaro5 years ago in Families
Fractured
A soft and smooth voice brought me back out of my reverie. I seemed to have been daydreaming of a sort. Or maybe I was nodding off to sleep? However long I looked at the elegant and beautiful woman standing in the hotel. “Pardon, Madam?” Said the voice again.
By A.C. Rowe5 years ago in Families
THE MIDNIGHT RIDE
THE MIDNIGHT RIDE Elijah smiled and watched his family sleeping in the flickering dim light of the candle on the table. Deep in thought, he wondered, was the box the answer to his family’s dreams and his dad’s prayers? A still small voice broke the silence to ask, “Elijah, why are you awake?” Elizabeth said, walking closer to him. Placing her hand on his shoulder, he kissed it and asked her to sit with him.
By Dollie E Abernathy-Mason5 years ago in Families
A Grand Man
This particular Sunday morning I decided to take one last walk around the lake before my father would be free of his earthly body. It's best to come out around 5am to lessen the chance you'll see another live creature. It's not so bad running into a squirrel or two I suppose. Or to have an ever skittish coyote meet your gaze and make a quick decision to freeze then dart back to the bushes with purpose. I always feel guilt for disturbing them. It's their lake. The serenity of this massive body of water is always being confronted by the urban environment. The heavy gaze of downtowns massive buildings, the angst of the commuter, and the dirty and dense smog coming down wind from the other decaying city on this massive water mass that goes on and on. On that morning the clouds hung low, dull, and grey. Some would say oppressive but I would say comforting. A means to spend the day in bed but remain outside. As I sought comfort outdoors I knew today I had to leave my peace on this lake shore and go confront a singular and sharp pain. On this quiet day I knew I had to go to my fathers apartment for the last time. Two years ago he was given a finite amount of days to finish his journey on earth. Fast forward to two weeks ago he had three to four months. And every day the hospice nurse shortened that time dramatically. Your father has a month. Your father has a few weeks. A few days. Any day. Any hour. Any minute.
By Jay Williams5 years ago in Families