humanity
For better or for worse, relationships reveal the core of the human condition.
The Choice is Yours
The vibration of his phone brought his consciousness back to reality on that sunny Saturday morning. He never sets the alarm for the weekend, so he knew it was either a text or a phone call. In which case, why this person disturbed him while he was catching up on some much-needed sleep was beyond him.
By Elyse Carter5 years ago in Humans
Hauntingly Generous
Hauntingly Generous A Children’s Story By Lucy Caplice The wind hit Jo hard as she walked briskly up the cobblestone road. The harsh London weather was constant, but she was used to it. Turning a corner, she was given some relief, both to be out of the wind, and at seeing of her little brick house. Her lips formed a small smile as she approached it, barely glancing at the other, identical houses, lined up either side. The door lock clicked, and Jo stepped inside. She breathed in the familiarity of home and walked up the stairs to her bedroom. Against a wall was a bookshelf filled with records and CDs. An old piano keyboard sat in front of the window, the sunlight pouring in reflected brightly upon it. In one corner stood a computer desk, in front of it a nice computer chair. A small wooden table beside it was covered in clothes, all neatly folded; warm hoodies in varying colours, soft leggings, and smatterings of denim. Jo took off her thick avocado winter coat and threw it on top of the pile, glancing at her reflection in a simple black framed mirror on the back of the door as she closed it. She was thin, athletic, and tall. Her black hair, cut short, made no impression, nor did her pale blue eyes. She was non-descript. A purple candle sat in the corner of the computer desk, and next to it rested a white electric guitar. Jo took out small silver earrings and placed them delicately on the desk and sat down in the chair. Looking down, she picked up a little black notebook, and flicked it open to a bookmarked page. Sighing, she re-read the page.
By Lucy Caplice5 years ago in Humans
The Leavetaker's Lottery
In the ten years he has performed on Desert Evac, Kade “Kady-Kat” Fareidha has never hated a prop before. The black book however - Doomsday Book, his character, Emariel Kasey, has taken to dubbing it - so small in those huge hands, Kady thinks he’s going to hate it for the rest of his life.
By Kayla McKinney5 years ago in Humans
It Fast Approaches
The hallway was impossibly long, but the only thing Benny could do was follow along the corridor. Follow it as far as possible, running, trying to outpace the thunderous footfalls approaching from behind. And even though he knew it was of dire importance to keep moving away from whoever or whatever it was stalking him, each time he reached a door along the side of the hallway, he felt an undeniable and visceral need to stop.
By Rich D Harris5 years ago in Humans
The Decision
The Decision, the Notebook, and the Bag of Gold Verona decided she would take the money back home. For it did not belong to anyone. It sat there, at the end of the corridor, beside an artwork, Wheatfields and Crows was its name, isolated from all the others. There the bag of money was, with a small black notebook, its pages blank and empty. There the bag of money perched, ownerless, for no one would dare to hold a bag of money like that, in Milan, and hold it, carry it around, take it to an art gallery, during a Vincent Van Gogh exhibition, and place it there, at the end of a corridor. It was ownerless, decided Verona, for the pages of the book were empty, the money was smooth, not crinkled, and smelling new; almost fresh. How the bag of money happened to appear there was a presumption Verona had no concern in understanding. For the bag of money belonged to no one, and she should take it, as any astute person would.
By Amanie Chahrouk5 years ago in Humans
Blank Pages
Another sigh passed the woman’s lips as she turned down another street, her black dress dancing around her legs with every step. How could she have been so careless? The one item she had been trusted with and now she had lost it. Retracing her steps had been a bit more difficult than she had first thought. There were too many people here and all the streets and buildings looked the same. She looked up towards the sky, wondering how much time she had. Her shoulder hit a passerby, making the stranger stumble a bit.
By Katelin W.5 years ago in Humans
Monarch Moments
It all started on a Tuesday. There’s nothing ever spectacular about Tuesdays, except Fat Tuesday; but this was just a regular one. In fact, most of my days are regular. I’m a Louisiana girl, born and raised in a small town of about 6,000 people. Everyone works in the plants and goes to the same church, or the one across the street. Everyone knows everybody. We’re all intertwined into each other’s story, in good ways and in bad. I always said I’d get out of here, but people rarely do. My parents and their parents and their parents all stayed. I sort of feel like a scratched vinyl; stuck on the same sound. The only thing that ever changes is my hopes of hearing the rest of the song. I get up and go to work to pay my bills and do it again.
By Brittany Pfantz5 years ago in Humans
The Town of Ide
Against the morning sunlight in 1853, Jesse rode his horse through the modest town of Ide, its slow and steady stride quietly kicking up plumes of dust. In the town of Ide, not much went on. Nestled in a mountain valley in the New Mexico Territory, it boasted a population of around 300 people—mostly elderly. For decades, during its better days, Ide was successful in coal mining until their production started to dwindle and eventually stop. Since then, to make a living, some people raised whatever livestock they could, others were craftsmen, but most did not much of anything at all—making Ide a place where dreams came to die. Because of this unfortunate reality, most young people who wanted to build a future for themselves left…or at least tried to leave. Hope of escape for most young people lied in the Caldwell Train system. Delivered in 1848, about 10 years after the collapse of Ide’s coal mining industry, this special train rolled through town about once every two years. Many speculated as to where exactly the train went, but most didn’t know and didn’t care to find out—as long as it was leaving town and going far, far away. With tickets usually costing upwards of $20,000, the hope of leaving Ide and having a future was reserved for a few wealthy families, those who had the right connections, or those whose families sacrificed everything for one of their children to go.
By Maggie Shipp5 years ago in Humans
