friendship
C.S Lewis got it right: friendship is born when one person says to another: "What! You too? I thought I was the only one!"
Love Letters from Heather
To my friend, Zoe, It was just a few short years ago when I accompanied my friend Natalie Harris to Orillia High School, where she was sharing her story with a couple of classes. In some ways, it feels like yesterday, but in terms of life changes, pandemics, and the journey of life, it feels like eons ago.
By Heather Down5 years ago in Humans
A Common Sense
I never liked doctors. Don’t trust ‘em. No one wants to go to school for that many years and still has enough sense to cut me open. But some crack told me I needed a new heart. I didn’t care much when he said I’d need a hospital stay, but then Sylvia started cryin’, so I checked myself in. That’s how it usually went. She was always lookin’ out for me, and I never wanted to listen.
By Natasha Zimmerman5 years ago in Humans
THE MONKEY TATTOO
This red-headed Private Investigator was always destined to solve a mystery even reading the Hardy Boys books under my covers when I was 11 and 12. Solving any kind of mystery was my thing. I started with a Missing Children's organization and after funding ran out, took my test and became a Private Investigator.
By Cindy Merino5 years ago in Humans
Make Me Proud
My eyes lit up the moment she walked in on that cold Autumn’s day. Her mother just steps behind. I could feel her excitement as she side shuffled to my desk in her oversized boots; fur tassels bouncing in a rhythm leading one to believe magic lived within her.
By Kayla LaSaga5 years ago in Humans
A Chance to Forget
Bill and I, after a long night where we had played six quick games and were pretty loaded, started talking about life. He had been sipping whiskey all day and now with his lips liberated from a few more quick shots, told me about why he was out here in the woods alone.
By Theo Titus5 years ago in Humans
My Letter To You
I'm shaking my head, trying to think of the words to write, but they escape me. I could say they vanished like smoke in a starless sky, attempting to make something elegant out of the words, but this wouldn't matter. The words are simply gone, taken from me, like a lot lately.
By Craig Brower5 years ago in Humans
More than an Omen to me
Darvid awoke to the distinct sound of someone feverishly scribbling pen to paper. For a brief moment, Darvid questioned if he was physically hearing his own thoughts. It was as if they were expanding audibly out of his mind, across his head and back into his ears in an infinite feedback loop. He had a new poem in his mind for months and had not yet managed to get it down in ink - could this be it?
By Sophie van der Linden5 years ago in Humans
