humanity
For better or for worse, relationships reveal the core of the human condition.
The Jade Chessboard
I raced up the smooth stone pathway which curved along the steep mossy hill towards the small shack in the distance. Each step on the worn stones was familiar and had been performed countless times before. Today is my victory, I will beat him I assured myself. With fists clenched in determination my feet carried me to the humble lodging and I looked into my opponent’s face with fiery resolve. The bright eyes housed inside the old wizened face returned my glare with mild amusement. The old man before me welcomed my chaotic presence with a slight bow at the waist which I quickly returned out of respect, desperately trying to catch my breath. He motioned to sit on a crudely made stool, and like so many days past, we began.
By Brianna Lisech5 years ago in Humans
He never hated cats before
The man I loved is gone. Gone forever. It would’ve been better, easier, if I had admitted that to myself the day I met him at the train station. A shadow of his former self, eyes sunken, uniform tattered, a far cry from his honourable send off a few years prior. I thought I could love him out of it; reverse those years at the front, half starved and near frozen from frostbite. I thought enough tenderness, warm meals and a tidy home could turn the tides. That’s how we were all raised. We were healers; menders who kept the home fires burning. It was my job, my mother said, to smell of scented soap and talcum powder. To re-pin my hair before he came home each night. To always ask how his day was first, regardless of mine.
By Lorelei Bachman5 years ago in Humans
Clue from the Painted
Clue From The Painted 5th July 1786, Eliza Parkson walked down the stone stairs to the front door of her family’s little cottage to greet her father, Andrew Parkson at the door. He walked in, taking off his coat only to throw it in Liz’s face. She hung it on the rack as her father took a seat so she could take off his shoes. Her father had been treating her like this since her mother died.
By Jess, Jess and Indy5 years ago in Humans
The Four Nines
Just last fall after the snow had already begun, my brother and I had driven out to cowboy country to visit John Ware's original homestead location near Millarville. There is nothing there anymore that would tell you he lived there except for a cairn. My brother and I like going on hikes, but with the new snow we decided to go look for a piece of history instead. We'd actually gone there with my dad as kids. My dad was very impressed with John Ware's accomplishments against the odds in his life, and I suppose I was and still am too.
By Yvette McDermott5 years ago in Humans
Monster
“Monster! How should I feel?” Delilah whispered, her head down in defeat while tears pricked at the corners of her green eyes. She watched as the man before her gave a half smile to her question. His chiseled jaw flexed and his eyes darkened, making them sink into his high cheek bones. Smirking, he walked over to the fireplace of their small two-bedroom home. Delilah watched his feet stop at the hearth; her heart heavy in anticipation of his rebuttal.
By Abigail Griffith5 years ago in Humans
Downsizing
"Why me?", I said clutching a bankers box with the detritus from my desk. It's a warm Friday afternoon in April and I just found out that my "services are no longer required." Standing on the sidewalk dumbfounded, I lift my head, My eyes mentally piercing the heart of my now ex boss from his iron tower.
By Jacob Chimilar5 years ago in Humans
On the other side of #MeToo
Opener Very few men consider themselves bad people. Creeps. Abusers of women. Imagining that your own behaviour could be viewed by anyone as 'disgusting' is shocking and deeply mortifying. As we consider where the #Metoo movement may lead us, we have to consider how behaviour toward women is modelled to boys by adults, how behaviour change happens, how long it can take and how this knowledge informs our approach to protecting and empowering women.
By Adam Urquhart5 years ago in Humans
Good Fortune in Portland
The night was cold and rainy as I set out for the short journey to the convenience store on the end of the street. I gave my only raincoat to Linda, the woman who worked the register in front of mine at Walmart. Her husband took their only car when he left her and their three-year-old daughter for a twenty-four-year-old he met at a bar the week before. She had to walk the three miles from her house to her job everyday now, and November was the rainiest month in Portland, so I had no choice but to give her my coat. I held my umbrella in front of me like a shield, as if I were going to battle on the dry lands of Troy. The wind was relentless, and that combined with the rain had already soaked the front of my jeans and sweater. God bless the rainboots my boss gifted me for my nineteenth birthday a couple weeks ago. I was beginning to wonder if a Honeybun was worth it tonight just as I saw the fluorescent glow of Al’s Mini Mart shine faintly through the sheer top of my umbrella.
By 5 years ago in Humans
