humanity

For better or for worse, relationships reveal the core of the human condition.

Love curse
It was a long day at the office today. Camille was Exhausted but not physically, mentally. Camille work at matching service for millionaires. Camille spent her days and nights finding love for the people Around her but she always forgot about her self. Camille has been single all her life. She’s been looking for something special . Really special. That love that she can’t live without. I guess you can say she’s a hopeless romantic, she has it honestly. She watched her grandparents stay together until her grandmother died. She wanted something like that . She wanted love where the only thing that can end it , was death. About 4 years ago , Camille thought she had found love. But he had other plans. While she was busy falling in love he was too. But not with her , with someone else. Camille haven’t loved anyone since. But she loves love. So She decided to help other people find the love of there life.
By Takayla Johnson5 years ago in Humans
The little black book
Our eyes met, first time I smiled with my eyes since the rest of my face has been covered with bandit mask, my norm accessory, to my daily outfits while out and about through out town.
By E Rod5 years ago in Humans
Seasons
The tall, slender man in all black standing at the farthest point of the room approached no one but welcomed everyone. I took the bait. His deep black eyes stared into mine—void of color but as refreshing as the summer popsicles I used to enjoy, unbothered as cherry rolled down my hand. I licked my lips; he cleared his throat. As I begin to speak, he interrupted. His tone was not urgent. Twenty-thousand dollars. My heart rate increased as I took a step back. I’ve never been here, but this felt familiar. I begin to walk away and heard him again—slightly lower than before—twenty thousand dollars. My hand slightly trembled as I turned around, more aware of my body than I had been since Jenny. I placed my drink to the right of his small black notebook. He glanced. I took a deep breath, sipped my drink, and returned it slightly closer to my side of the table. He began to speak—I interjected. Do you know Jenny?
By Gary Love5 years ago in Humans
A Newly Painted Canvas
It was just another day of wandering within my canvas, splotched with striking black ink, as Ronin Underwood, a high school student trying to escape that which haunts him. One day I stumbled upon a small cafe. I thought to myself it might provide some solace to my bleak existence, so I drag my legs to the door. The chime of the doorbell echoes as I swing it open with a lazy shove and time seems to slow and as I look to the counter I’m shocked to find that there isn’t a soul to be seen. The tables and chairs remain occupied by phantoms and the pastries in the display case still radiating heat. My vision goes blurry and in an instant, my head spins as the world starts to go dark. I think to myself, am I dying? What is going on? Is this the Danse Macabre I haven’t heard so cacophonous since the car accident that took away everything? The questions dissipate as the ink maelstrom overcomes my vision with swift, vehemence and the world becomes a void.
By Léon Dunois5 years ago in Humans
The Dreamcatcher and The Wry
This wasn’t the first time Katalina Goldstein had found something on the subway. The most interesting find, a folder full of recommendation letters, belonged to a girl just starting the rat race. As she approached the seat at the far end, Katalina saw the item was a black notebook. To her surprise, it was brand new. The notebook pages had no lines. This could be the sketchbook Katalina needed, although she did already have four sitting at home gathering dust. The more she looked at it, the more she saw what a great find this was. Because it was so nice, she felt it would be disrespectful to throw it in her cheap backpack. She lifted her bubble coat and tucked the black notebook inside the waistband of her sweatpants.
By Andrilisa Read-Iglesias Lopes5 years ago in Humans
Winner...
She kept meticulous notes in her little black notebook. She poured over the scores, the individual stats, team records... baseball in the spring and summer, football in the fall and winter, pro basketball and hockey - she tracked them all. She even liked college basketball, but that one changed more frequently. She followed sports analysts on CBS Sportsline, ESPN and all the other major experts, was in a few groups on social media and dabbled in a few of the free fantasy leagues. But she still liked the feel of the little black notebook, where she could jot down notes and analysis of the players, teams, coaches and even fans; following her gut feelings, seeing things in a way that only her mind could. The pages looked like a coach’s clipboard during a game, with lines connecting points across and around. Circles and asterisks, sideways commentary that she couldn’t recreate on one of the prepackaged spreadsheet tools that so many of the others relied on.
By Stacey Orlick5 years ago in Humans
Eulogy for Samuel Emoto
Thank you for being here today. I know some of you traveled to the U.S. for My father was the kind of man who carried all the burdens
By Jamie Marie Ledonne5 years ago in Humans
Ignorance Is Bliss
This lawyer's office is dusty. I guess it makes sense, seeing as how the guy is, like, 80. He's too busy reading out a letter to even notice my judgmental stare. He has wiry grey hair and his complexion is so pale that I can make out the bluish veins in his face. His reading glasses lay low on his long, pointy nose. Even though he's talking, his lips look pursed. Not to mention chapped.
By chloe mcclung5 years ago in Humans
Hungry Boy
Tommy stood in the kitchen, trying to muster the bravery to ask his mother about his birthday cake when she hollered, “Can you make some popcorn? The show’s starting in five minutes.”
By Jeannie Morgenstern5 years ago in Humans
Legacy of the Workman’s Guild
In 2010, at 21 soon to be 22 years old, Braden D. Leaumont had succeeded in many things. Coming from humble beginnings, she worked hard to become independent. This perseverance was sown in part due to how her mother was ridiculed after the passing of her father. Upon graduating from high school in 2006, Braden made the decision to attend college while also supporting her mother. Since the university was a few hours away, moving out was practical and reduced the cost of food and utilities for her mother. Taking out student loans and gaining employment allowed Braden to support herself financially. Even managing to send her mother a tiny monthly allowance in her father’s absence. Since enrolling at the university, Braden had reached some of her short and long term goals. A first generation college student, who purchased her first car in cash, and was the first African-American editor of the campus newspaper. Who also successfully became homeless after, in her words, not lying to a customer to steal their home.
By Candace D. Williams5 years ago in Humans
Who Homeward Go
I. “The Matagorda Supper” Before Miranda had time to give any further thought to the question, the matter was decided. Uncle Aberdeen (that is, the notorious attorney J. Michael Aberdeen, who was at that time a stock figure in all of the county’s consequential topics) would serve as chaperone and shuttle while she crossed her way from the southern crest of Texas to the airport.
By Paco Navarro5 years ago in Humans
Unity, Freedom, Work
Finally: Anodiwa stood still, staring silently, almost rudely. She started to tremble. Her mouth opened as in grief, her eyes wide, and she broke into sobs. She stumbled toward the doctor, grabbed her in a desperate embrace. Dr. Washington held the joyful mother, silently.
By Patrick Beck5 years ago in Humans