humanity

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

By the Black Trees
The black trees outside Rowan's cottage had never been so still or silent in all his years. His life, long yet fleeting, had been spent listening to the leaves cheering when the waltzing winds visited, the serenades of the birds and their ancient, elegant rhythm. From the window he would watch the generations of leap-foxes scamper down and excavate the soil for the juiciest bugs. When rains came he would sit not in his cottage but underneath the tallest tree, and allow the petrichor to caress him. He'd close his eyes for an instant, and be woken hours later by Faye. A scrunched face could not hide the amusement his wife felt in that silly routine. In this silence, Rowan felt knots in his stomach he had never tied before. He pinched some bruised berries and dumped them in his pocket, and then moved to the door. He edged it open millimeter by millimeter, hoping not to interrupt the snores in the next room.
By Jordan Abuzar5 years ago in Humans
Wet Dreams
The sun was shining brightly through the window, the glare was irritating but a ray of light caught the metal of her pen, sending a prism to her right, which acted as a sign for the teenage boy that seen it. Her pen was flying across the paper, the ink smoothly printing and drying as her handwriting looped every which way like a kite in the sky.
By Brittney5 years ago in Humans
Hope, KS
Nothing good ever happened in Hope, Kansas. To be fair, nothing terribly bad happened either. Hope was just a run-of-the-mill small town in the middle of America with a Walmart, a Dairy Queen, and a Main Street that had seen better days. Most of the residents of Hope worked either at the Walmart or on one of the local farms - Davey’s Turkey Farm or Macon’s Dairy Farm. Some traveled out to towns like Abilene or Chapman to sell cars or tractors at the dealerships or wait tables at the Applebee’s or Chili’s. Hope was shrinking, to be sure. Job growth over the past decade was in the negative numbers. None of the young people wanted to stay past high school, and those who could, left within three months of graduation to attend college or to find jobs in Topeka or Kansas City.
By Patricia Tay5 years ago in Humans
You Will Never Regret Being Kind
Three years ago was a different time. Sometimes when I remember that day, I wonder if it had just been by chance, or whether fate had planted me on that route. But nevertheless, I will never forget the wonders of that day. I had finished my classes for the day, I was a full-time student back then and I had started a business that sold my leather handicrafts I would make in my apartment.
By Nadira El Khang5 years ago in Humans
A midsummer encounter
She was eyeing his notebook from the bench across the main cross walk in Central Park. The curiosity was burning within to find out what the subject matter was. Just who inspired whatever was being penned down onto the opposite side of the cover so fervently. It took all that was in her not to make her way over to take a peek. Curiosity was further kindled for he kept gazing toward her direction every couple of minutes or so, followed by a deep dive back onto the page.
By Melinda Horvath5 years ago in Humans
A Fountain Pen and A Little Black Book
A death deserves a wake. People dressed in black, the color of the little notebook in which her name was written in blue ink. Fountain pens were such an old thing. It was strange that her husband used them. They always seemed so messy to her. There would be a spot on his desk for them, however, in a house they planned to buy. A house that would be their own when they had the money. No more shoddy heating, no more pot smokers in the dirty hallways that smelled of urine. New York City apartments were tough. Especially the pre-war ones in Washington Heights. They lived in an apartment building right off the 1 train station on Dyckman. It was a stone’s throw from the Bronx. There was no land, she could not grow her own vegetables. There was no room for a writing desk for him. It was such a shame, because he started college again two years ago, after having dropped out ten years before that. He wanted to be a fiction writer. Fantasy fiction, to be exact. He loved the world of magic and dragons, of elves and mages. And his writing had gotten exponentially better in the last two years. She was never sure that they would have the money to buy that house, though. Not on the combined pay of a security guard and a nurse. Both overworked and underpaid.
By Karthika Parvathy5 years ago in Humans
A Man's Voice
He was starting to sweat. Shining, though black like the fertile earth of a farm, his garments billowing… decorations flashing, with gourds shackled to his feet, and baring crooked teeth at the world, he seemed to smile and scream at the same time. His brow was furrowed like bark, his feet bare, ashy, looking like roughly shaped stone. The music rained down on me, as if a torrent from all sides--no, rather--a tsunami. Not evil nor good, just an exhibition of terrible beauty and strength that only Mother Earth herself can tend to accomplish.
By Grey Freeman5 years ago in Humans
auctor vitae
There are always a million different alternatives, pathways, things said and left unsaid. A million routes for a million journeys, each co-existing in this peculiar thing called life.
By nat5 years ago in Humans
Knowing Notebook
“Where’s my turned over money truck?” Miguel thought. Everyday he went to work came back home. Got his weekly paycheck, paid bills and repeat. It seemed to be the same thing week end and week out. Never a new chance, never a change, never a break.
By Ta'Shumbria Miller5 years ago in Humans
Black Book
Addie hummed the same tune over and over, trying to get it sounding right. She was absentmindedly wiping plates, her hands having gone into autopilot from years of practice, the sounds of the diner meandering around her but not enough to distract her from the song forming in her brain. Occasionally, from the sea of comforting murmured talk, bubbling coffee, and scraping plates there emerged a sharp laughing note that Addie would test in her tune before allowing it to sink back into the outskirts of her interest.
By Roxy Toyne 5 years ago in Humans
Waiting for a Miracle:
Hers was a life of near misses. She was not expecting to see twenty-five, and did everything in her power to see that she did not. Yet, twenty-five came, then, fifty. She survived, but so did the dread.
By Yahia Lababidi5 years ago in Humans
Yousef
I’m in a forest at the edge of a quiet meadow which is intersected by a slow river. It’s quiet here, the only noises to be heard are those that my body makes, and the birds whose song can be heard, but cannot be seen, though I haven’t tried very hard to spot any. There’s a sense of peace and well being unlike anything I’ve felt in a long time. I emerge from the trees, and make my way to the river bank, where I find a perfect spot, on an outcropping of rock, where I can sit and put my feet in the water. As I reach down to take off my shoes I notice that I’m not wearing any. I shake off the feeling of unease at not having realized that I wasn’t wearing shoes. The water is cool around my feet and it is incredibly soothing, almost as if it could wash away any of the stressful thoughts or worries I normally carry, but I can’t seem to remember any of those familiar thoughts or worries. Just as I’m beginning to wonder why I can hear birds but can’t see any, What happened to my shoes, or why I can’t remember any of my typical stress laden concerns, I am wrenched from my state of bliss by a jarring and out of place sound. It sounds like something you’d hear in a movie when the hero’s spaceship is under attack. It’s that same blaring type of warning alarm. Alarm, that’s it. It’s an alarm.
By Courtney Canfijn5 years ago in Humans