humanity
Humanity begins at home.
Sara and The Little Black Notebook
Sara didn’t mean to drop the jar of spaghetti sauce on the floor, but the manager and the nosey onlookers' faces said it all. She did not belong here—in this market or this town. Patience had been growing thin with her presence in this town for a little shy of a year. It had become more difficult for her to smile and bear with the dirty looks and whispers behind her back.
By Nancy I Bagley5 years ago in Families
The Book That Saved Our Lives
Friday morning was beautiful. The sun was bright and warm coming through the windows. We saw a heavy coat of fresh white snow that had laid the night before. After having our morning coffee, we decided to wake the kids to go play in the snow.
By Kelly Loss5 years ago in Families
The Bucket List. Top Story - February 2021.
Wool socks… a couple of plaid flannel shirts… jeans… a single burner camp stove… night goggles… hiking boots… legal documents, lots of legal documents. Newspaper articles telling of the undercover sting operation that laundered money for people who brought American dollars back in exchange for prime Canadian hydroponic weed… an old passport… a driver’s license in someone else’s name that I hope he didn’t kill anyone for.
By Coranne Creswell5 years ago in Families
Blood Ties
At five years old, my hands were flayed against sharp stones on a dirt road that was just as much a part of my blood as any family ancestry. Dirt pressed into wounds and snakes of red dripped from broken skin, infecting the ground beneath me so it too looked like it bled. The black dog chasing me skidded to a stop, panting and slicked with sweat. The distant sounds of my aunts and mother were too far away and the dog too close and so tears and black spots crowded my vision until the trees lost their leaves and the sky became earth.
By Sarah Penney5 years ago in Families
Evicted
Kara jogged up the graffiti-splattered steps of the run-down building. She was exhausted after her shift at a job that demanded too much and paid too little. The mile walk each way on a granola bar and a muffin pilfered from a customer’s half-eaten plate hadn’t done much to restore her energy. But she already knew there was no point in heading towards the elevators. Those had never worked. Kara stole a glance at her watch.
By Lady Coy Haddock5 years ago in Families
Buried Treasure
Reggie Somerville was somewhat of an oddity. He had always been an eccentric, but the current world he was occupying made his existence an antiquation. He had settled into island living almost twenty years before, when he and his wife, Moira had retired. (This was at a time when retirement was still possible.) It was everything they planned until it wasn’t. Moira had gone too soon, and Reggie was lost. He had tried the usual things to reacquaint himself with the society in which he now found himself. He frequented coffee shops, soon learning that sitting with a coffee and looking out at the world was a thing of the past. Now people nursed strange concoctions known as pour overs, and allowed the world to pass them by behind the glow of a screen. The island he had known was swarming with hipster aliens and he didn’t enjoy their company one bit. Instead he sought solitude outside, losing himself on hikes or kayaking expeditions. His sons had told him he was too old to be gallivanting off without letting one of them know, but what else was he supposed to do? He couldn’t stay at home, sitting across from Moira’s empty chair all day. When Reggie had fallen on one of his favourite trails, realizing all too late that he had left his phone on the nightstand he thought that perhaps his sons were right. After thirty-two hours on the side of a mountain waiting for the next hiker to pass him by it was a foregone conclusion.
By H R Honeybun5 years ago in Families
Don't judge a book by its cover
The Trail of Tears was over, but never will be forgotten. In the outskirts of a small town in Virginia what used to be all their ancestral lands lived a small band of Nottoway Native people of the Turtle Clan. Most of their people living or visiting close to Tennessee and North Carolina borders had been stolen by the soldiers and volunteers representing a power that had become insatiable in its desire for land, not caring which Native tribes that crossed their paths they were forcibly relocating any that could stand in the way of that desire. Many of the royal family, the keepers of the healing stream were forced on such a journey, but they knew one day their descendant’s hearts would bring them back home to Virginia, but they would need a path to follow. So they willed their souls to the trees and the stones along the trail as their bodies lay down to unite back with Mother Earth. A trail that still bears their name to this day, awaiting their children’s return. And if you listen closely to the wind and the shifting of the stones on that trail you will hear their story.
By Maria Hernandez5 years ago in Families
