humanity
For better or for worse, relationships reveal the core of the human condition.
Bookends to Generations
It sat there for days. On my desk in front of the window. The window that looks out onto the street I’ve spent my entire life on. Brick homes, tall and thin, neatly stacked next to one another as they form lines down both sides of the street. Easy enough to see why they are called row houses, it doesn’t take much creativity to get from here to there. I found the notebook the day after his funeral. Although it was plainly placed within the top of his desk, so in a way, the notebook found me. For it wasn’t hidden, only waiting for me to arrive.
By Melanie Ann5 years ago in Humans
Unspoken Treasure
The rust from these chains are scraping off any intact skin I still have on my ankles as I run desperately away from the disheveled men chasing me. In the distance I hear voices angrily yell, “Get her! We cannot let her see what lies in those leather bound pages! All will be lost!” I gripped the small black book tighter in my grasp and tried to quickly look for a place to hide. My wounds are deep and the blood that releases from my hands is being absorbed by the bound pages that were created with animal skin.
By Victoria Driscoll5 years ago in Humans
The Estate
The room may have smelled of the elderly but this man couldn’t have been more than forty. His dark brown hair didn’t reveal any grey, and with that amount of stubble on his face, there’s no way he was vain enough to be dyeing it. Plus he didn’t wear glasses. Wasn’t it a requirement for all chubby, middle-aged, small-time lawyers in little downtown offices to wear glasses? If not for reading, at least to look knowledgeable for their clients, Avery thought. Avery was sitting there uncomfortably in a wooden chair that was designed to appear distinguished. The wobbles of the chair, however, told Avery a different story of how this, no doubt, online-degree legal practitioner probably put the chair together himself to save a few bucks. Or, judging by James’ Santa Clause-like frame, maybe he just liked the meatballs at Ikea. Avery often became judgmental when he didn’t want to be somewhere.
By Ryan Hennessy5 years ago in Humans
A Turn of the Page
"Remember when life was simple? We were so happy. We had nothing but each other, but we were so happy. Life was simple. Now we are about to go back to nothing but life is miserable and complicated." Ryan softly groaned with a lump in his throat to his wife, Michelle.
By Ethan Medders5 years ago in Humans
Tru Love
Mom and I lived with Grandma Grace for eight months after she became sick and that brought us closer. I was a shy fifteen-year-old, and like most girls my age, boy crazy. My skin was dark chocolate, with deep brown eyes and short kinky hair. Although I had crushes throughout junior high and high school, my shy nature never seemed to attract their attention. One day I went to knock on Grandma Grace’s door to have one of our long conversations. She often told me about life growing up in a small town in Alabama. While sitting in her room, she proceeded to tell me a beautiful story of how she and my grandfather met. At the end of the story, I asked, “Grandma Grace, what's the secret to finding your true love?” My grandma laughed and asked, “Dashia, girl, what do you know about love?” She coughed a few times and said to me, “Well, hunny, a woman should always smell pleasant, be nicely dressed, hair neatly done but let me teach you about the “true love” my mama taught me before she died. I was only eight years old when my mama spoke her last words to me.” “I even wrote it down.” “Child, open the top drawer to the right on my dresser and pass me that little black book sitting at the top there,” Grandma Grace said. I did as my Grandma Grace asked and she opened the little black book. My grandma then began to cough uncontrollably and dropped the book. I stood up from beside her and began to pat her back. My mother, who heard the coughing from the kitchen, came in and asked me to go to the kitchen and watch the food she was cooking on the stove while she attends to Grandma Grace. Two days later, Grandma Grace died but I never forgot what she told me, “A woman should always smell pleasant, be nicely dressed and hair neatly done.” Although, I was a bit curious about what my great-grandma told my grandmother, written down in that little black book. At that time, it wasn’t important enough for me to look through Grandma Grace’s things to find the old book.
By Kiki Lyles5 years ago in Humans
The Pine Mountain Clan Journal
She opened her backpack and took out the bundle. Carefully unwrapped it and put away the red cloth in her pocket. The blood had dried on the leather cover and made it look worn on those spots. She had read it several times. Even knew some pages by heart. But when she was standing at the crest. She wanted to read one page, the first page….
By Manuel G. Lopez5 years ago in Humans
