humanity
For better or for worse, relationships reveal the core of the human condition.
Reflection
“Last name?” “Rogers.” Type, click. Click. “Renée?” She nodded. Click. “Okay, you’re all set.” The man in the booth glanced up at the darkening sky. “Looks like it’s going to be one of those unpredictable-weather days. Good thing you’re covered up. Enjoy the garden — you’ll have it mostly to yourself.” She nodded again and turned away, winding her thick brown scarf more closely around her neck as she walked through the gate and into the gusty wind.
By Lindy Thibodaux5 years ago in Humans
The Spencer Spectacle
Eddie was proud of the life he had built, beholden only to the two giant orbs in the sky which dictated the parameters of his very flexible schedule. His days were guided by the ebb and flow of light and changing seasons and he felt in tune, finally, with the world around him.
By Nancy Gwillym5 years ago in Humans
20/20
“I’m so tired.” I mean it when I say that. I could fall asleep standing here in Jen’s entrance way. This week has been hell and there are only a few minutes left to vent before my lunch break is over. “This whole week has been never-ending. Mom called about the dog passing, my car died on Tuesday, I don’t know when I’ll get it back from the shop, transit here is bullshit… That’s why I was late.”
By Sydney Thiesson5 years ago in Humans
Legacy
A little time “I’m afraid it's terminal...” Lucas stared at the white wall, dread overcoming his being as he was forced to filter what the doctor had just told him. For a moment panic set in, and he faintly hoped that any minute now he would wake safe in his bed looking forward to yet another casual Sunday. However, This was not merely a nightmare. This was real life, and unfortunately he could not wake from reality. “How long?” He asked, not a shred of emotion gracing his tone. He was far to invested in the thoughts in his mind. The doctor did not frown nor falter as he answered him, a question he undoubtedly had had to answer before. “A year...Maybe more with treatment.”
By Bluue DeLune5 years ago in Humans
Moon Roof
The memorial took place the second weekend in March, although the actual anniversary fell on a Wednesday. Nine people showed up, which wasn’t a lot when you thought about how big Sonia’s circle had been. All the Beautiful People, the members of her art collective, her coop gallery, her classmates from Pratt — where were they?
By Elizabeth Gaffney5 years ago in Humans
His Small Black Book
It was just a small black leather bound book but it fascinated her. The cover was soft and worn from years of handling, no longer stiff and shiny but certainly not a floppy book. The blackness was faded to a black-gray dullness that spoke of years of use. His hand had opened and closed it so many times, his handprint, though not visible, was apparent. She ran her hand over it; her eyes closed, and imagined her small hand in his. She paused, feeling the energy of him pulsing from the book to her hand and into her heart. She cried softly, knowing she would never hold his hand again. Knowing she would never feel his gentle caress on her face again.
By Donnamarie Baldwin5 years ago in Humans
Ink and the Impulsive
I’m not a sign. Not a template crafted by dreamers. I evolve. I change. I learn. Shy to some, outward to most, I leap more often first, enjoying the quickly earned spoils or analyzing the broken path in the dimmed light of hindsight. Uncertainty and self-criticism were once pillars, bookending every interaction, every thought, every movement. Now, they remain but no longer bear the load. I choose friends. Growing closer and further apart as time flows. I evolve.
By Matthew Agnew5 years ago in Humans
The Journal
The final bell rings, and an explosion of students hit the hallway. The excitement of summer is loud in the air. Harold keeps his head down, he just wants to get to his locker for the final time, and out the door. A screaming pack of cheerleaders knock Harold’s book out of his hand as they run past him to greet the rest of their pack. Ironically, if it weren’t for the occasional bump in the hallway, Harold would question his existence altogether. He finally makes it to his locker and out the door. The bookstore is only a couple blocks from the school; he can pick up some new reading material on his way home. Long days in the sun at the beach, fighting off bugs in a tent, putting slimy worms on hooks; Harold can’t see the glamour in any of these activities. Being engrossed in a book, whisking away to unknown worlds, that’s Harold’s pleasure.
By Heather Fritch5 years ago in Humans
FEAR Everyone
I’ve been a mentor, counselor, and most importantly, a friend of his for a little over three years now. Still, I know him better than anyone, including himself. For example, I know that white noise is an unwelcome concept to him. Within any privately occupied space, sound must be purposeful. That over which he has no control––automobile engines, sirens, sounds of the city and the like––have to be blocked with earplugs when concentration or sleep is required. Fortunately, that’s not often a necessity because he lives in what is as close to the “country” as one can be while still within the metropolitan city limits. At the moment, however, his personal ban on audible distraction was lifted allowing the television on the wall of his study to speak freely.
By William Ledbetter5 years ago in Humans
Storage Wars
“It’s okay Kimberley, it's just the things that go bump in the night, they can't see where they are going so they bump into walls and such, nothing to be afraid of.” said mom “Maybe they need glasses, they will see better.” said I. This conversation is one I remember having with my mom when I was about 6 or 7 years old. For as long as I can look back, I have always had a fear of the dark. Why? Still till this day i am not sure. Maybe, because i can not see, maybe the fear of the unknown or possibly a combination of both. Whatever the reason does not matter, nor would it have helped me the night the storage war began.
By kimberley ashton5 years ago in Humans
