humanity
Humanity begins at home.
Save This for a Rainy Day
Leah winced as a dot of light leapt from the edge of her compass across a pale blue iris. With a squint, she reexamined her bearings. Three hundred and twenty-eight. Letting out a slight sigh of defiance, she unfurled her brow and lifted her chin to refocus forward. It was a steep climb. Roots jutted from the hillside. They were jagged and gnarled, some menacingly shattered into shiv-like protrusions. Few ancient growths dotted the scene. These were sage pillars of wisdom. They were somehow at once equally leviathan but hauntingly delicate. So immense as to dwarf the onlooker by the shadow of limb alone. So hollowed and fragile as to be felled by the smallest of arboreal wanderers. What remained was a thicket made of saplings. Groupings stretched in unison—a still but violent competition for a drink of the sun. Vines crept down from the taller trees, wrapping around the bases and trailing off into the soil. Their gravity seemed to pull them towards a race of a different sort—a languid descent in search of relief from their infinite hang.
By Chase Stanley5 years ago in Families
Superpowers
If you've been following this story at all you'll know I'm a little apprehensive about writing it down. There are a number of reasons for this. It's not necessarily fear that makes me second guess myself, but the thought that people may not be able to relate to what I am writing about. Through this series of articles I will be letting go of the deepest secrets I hold and these secrets could be easily mistaken as fiction. Let me assure you my secrets are NOT fiction.
By Sylver Boswell5 years ago in Families
Remember This Day
If you know anything about people of color, it’s this: Sunday is church day. No matter who you are, what job you do, and how much money you have or don’t have, in my neighborhood on Sunday people attend church. Anything outside of that is considered sacrilege.
By J. R. Floyd5 years ago in Families
Time Travelers Notebook
The rain begins to pour down and small water pools form outside as Evan flips the sign in the window of Reader’s Café from ‘OPEN’ to ‘CLOSED.’ Grabbing his jacket and bag from the upstairs office, he looks at the picture of his parents on the wall. They are standing in front of the café all smiles on the first day it opened.
By Angelica E. 5 years ago in Families
The Motherlode
The little café on Church street buzzed with the usual hum of activity belonging to small town coffee shops. The hum of the machinery, murmurs of people talking, and sound of coffee pouring was always soothing to Isabella Cadeaux. There were few places so conducive to writing as coffee shops, with their perceived air of invisibility and a sense of tranquil coziness. It was easy for anyone to slip into a different skin than to be all of who they were. To hide behind a computer instead of face their reality.
By Cloe Mathers5 years ago in Families
Buying Extra Time
Caw. Caw. Caw. Oh, Gerald, I thought to myself. Gerald was a crow who had decided to take up residence outside my bedroom window for the last ten years of my life. He also just so happened to be an early riser. I glanced over at my alarm clock, only to see that it was only three-thirty in the morning. Groaning, I sat up and walked over to the window putting most of my body weight under it to get the old thing moving. As the window slid up the track it made a terrible whining noise and I cringed, listening for movement elsewhere in the house. Once I knew I hadn’t disturbed anyone’s slumber, I returned my attention to Gerald.
By C. L. Henderson5 years ago in Families
