humanity
For better or for worse, relationships reveal the core of the human condition.
Frederick Park
Is it really October already? Charlotte tried not to notice how unforgiving the wind had become in recent days as she checked the time for the umpteenth time in what felt like ten minutes, but was really only two. Where in the world is the 86? As she accepted that her bus was running late, she noticed Harold Turney walking briskly towards his office with his assistant Heather. She caught Heather's eye and they exchanged familiar smiles.
By Lindsay Bachner5 years ago in Humans
Julia's Black Book
Julia was waiting, sitting as usual, on the front porch of the farmhouse, her gray hair loose and stirring in the warm spring wind. The blue cardigan sat primly on her bony frame and as always, her smile was framed by the pearls at her neck. Julia always wore blue on Wednesdays. She waved when she saw my car pull up the drive, and stood up to meet me as I approached with her delivery.
By Merrirose Reilly5 years ago in Humans
Leo, the 5th house ruler
I’m not sure if the fondness for lions is because of my zodiac sign or if I’m naturally drawn to the animal because it’s a beautiful and majestic creature. Two lion art pieces hang from the walls in my room, both with flowy manes and poised stature. Eventually I would love a tattoo dedicated to the king of the jungle, my zodiac sign, and my spirit animal.
By Mario Garnica jr5 years ago in Humans
An Unexpected Friend
There he was, standing alone in front of the 5th Avenue and 27th street bus stop. Right in front of the Riccardo Maggiore Salon. He stood there staring down at his old wrinkly hands. One of them gripping the handle of a metal walker, whose legs were adorned with bright green tennis balls. And the other hand tightly holding on to a tattered black leather bound journal. He could see the blue veins through his withered skin. Both of his hands were covered in dark brown age spots that seemed to multiply each time he looked down. He had wondered many times if these hands were really his own. How could they be? His hands were once strong, broad, and indestructible! And now...Now the hands placed before him were feeble, delicate, and ugly. Surely, these could not be his hands. He stared for what seemed like an eternity before he closed his eyes and slowly shook his head.
By Jasmine Hatton5 years ago in Humans
Remember to Find
Days of staying inside had taken their toll. It was still cold, but the sun was finally shining, and I decided to take the dog for a walk. After bundling up, we headed in the direction of the little neighborhood by the library. We walked past the house with the broken fence post where the dog always poked his head through to bark at us and were not disappointed. My pace quickened until we were a few houses away and out of sight. The moment the barking stopped, I heard what sounded like sobbing.
By Stacy Colleen5 years ago in Humans
The Autographs Book
It could have been under the highway bridge in Commerce Street or in Franklin Street. Either or, it makes no difference. Some days she would just stand there, back curved, hair dirty as filth and that crusty flat nose. Not a word would come out of her mouth. She would stare at the pillars on the opposite side of the road and nudge the head forward. Cars would pass in front of her and she would not see them. She would not blink or swear at them. Other days she would sit leaning against one of the pillars of cement, one of the colored ones, rainbow style. Knees against the belly she would look at the pages of a book. She was fifty or maybe sixty, difficult to say with those lot. For months I have passed under that damned bridge and I have never seen her turning one bloody page of that book of hers. She would not beg. I have never seen her doing it. Her name was Rose. I found that out one day. It must have been a Saturday or a Sunday because I was not going to work, neither I was going to pick up my daughter. I had time and no one to grab a beer with. I was on the way to my house in McKinney Street, a rotten wooden shithole with the windows that did not close well as the frames were all tilted. As I passed by the bridge I decided to stop. I parked in front of one of the gallerias of some time-wasting artists, on the right side, one of those days when you can actually breathe in Houston and being homeless is not such a bad thing. I beeped the car locked as if anybody could be interested in that rusty Corolla without a back bumper and walked towards the bridge. For a moment I considered stopping at the café at the corner to buy the woman a cake, but then said to myself it would be a waste of money. Cakes in that place, packed with students with glasses staring at their laptops, cost a fortune. I had two quarters In my pocket. That would do I reckoned. She was coming out of her tent when I reached her side of the road. Down on her hands and knees, she moved like a sloth but she stank like a skunk. I stopped at two meters and she did not seem bothered by my presence. I peaked in her tent. There was a lot of stuff in there and many coverless books. I had not noticed earlier she was such a book hoarder. Her Kroger kart, which she used as a portable wardrobe, was full of books too so I thought that asking about her favorite one was a good way to start. She told me to go to hell and ask Satan which one was his favorite book. Here came another surprise. I did not expect her to put together so many words in a row. She continued crawling until she reached the rainbow pillar and put herself straight. She cleared her throat and marked the territory with a spit. Without me asking she said that her name was Rose and I would better get the fuck out of there because that was her corner. It did not seem to me she was willing to talk much. With one hand in my trousers, I felt the two quarters between my fingers but hesitated too long. Rose was already staring at the wall in front of her, on the other side of the street. She had made herself clear and I crossed the road to go back to my car. I drove home to watch some TV.
By Davide Rubini5 years ago in Humans
Not your average tome
The Vancouver skyline spreads beneath the window, its sparkling towers just bearable past squinted eyes and throbbing temples. Flashes of last night pound through my head, vivid and disjointed: pulsing music, strobing lights, and gyrating bodies. Paul wishing me luck. A woman – one hell of a woman – pressing me against the wall of an elevator.
By Rodney B. Lunder5 years ago in Humans
The Book of Necessities
My soul mate was here and then he wasn’t. He left in the most normal of circumstances, proving that our love wasn’t the slightest bit rare. When our relationship became rocky, I turned back to my spiritual practices that reminded me of who I really was. He turned to Sheila from three cubicles over. I didn’t realize at the time that my reclaiming of myself would be more damaging of the two.
By Kara Laudenslager5 years ago in Humans
