humanity

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

You just never know what will come. Be good to people.
It was just like every other day. Same morning routine. Same 2 eggs, toast and a coffee on the way to work. Same light that takes exactly 3 minutes longer than every other light. Only this time. This time there is something out of place. The blinking amber lights off to the right should not be there. This is a dangerous stretch of road, and nobody can see around that next corner.
By John Cornelius5 years ago in Humans
Did COVID Curb Cultural Curiosity?
Imagine a world where an elderly ‘black’ man could walk up to a ‘white’ thirty-something-year-old woman in a supermarket and start whispering to her. Even more, what if his conversation went something like this,
By Emunah Y'srael5 years ago in Humans
Small Town Fairy Tales
Small towns are toxic wastelands filled with ill intentions and traps around every corner. You can hear the creatures crawling and howling with every step you take, their claws ready to dig in whenever you are at your most vulnerable. People get trapped in the channels of booze and illegitimacies. It is a dog-eat-dog cycle, destined to repeat itself. Born into a set fate, a set class; few change their position. A small-town fairy tale is where someone gets to leave intact, fruitful, and with no intention to return to those who have plagued them. However, many are denied a physical escape; instead, they seek a means to an end through their choice of poison.
By Steph Louise5 years ago in Humans
Uncle Arthur's Gift
“Illegal Immigrants, the Blacks, the LGTBQ+, or whatever they call themselves. They will be the death of this country.” Jamie said to the lawyer. Memories rekindled a certain anger in his eye. “I had finally found the courage. A bravery I didn’t know I had, to tell him about my real self, and that’s what my Uncle told me.” Jamie closed his eyes, pushing a tear out. “That’s the last time I seen him, sitting there on that park bench. I ran away that night. I went to the train station and bought the first ticket out of town.”
By Steven Davis5 years ago in Humans
The obvious
I awoke early to work on my new book before the kids woke-up for school. I enjoyed watching the sun rise, pink over the field from my bay window. I made myself a cup of tea and opened my computer. I logged into my email in hopes of finding a literary agent interested in my work and not another rejection letter. I knew rejection letters were part of the business, but I could use some good news. Finding the right agent and publishing house would take a while. That's when I saw it.
By M.A.D5 years ago in Humans
Mr. Lockley
Mr. Lockley was old, tired and insolent, though it wasn’t due to impatience and old age. For as long as I had known him, until his death bed, he had little interest in anything but capital. He hired me many years ago to look over his first book contract, to “make them pay for it.” And while they did pay for it, so did he. Mrs. Lockley filed for divorce when the first cheque came in.
By Nastasia Delmedico5 years ago in Humans
Heading west...
I saw the snow begin to fade and the waters begin to move. The white spots that had glistened upon the rocks like stars on a clear night became scars and valleys of barren earth. The pine needles browned, as if as January was replacing Christmas and life became sober and parched. I had left the Rocky Mountains, crossed the Great Divide and headed west.
By Josh Tyler5 years ago in Humans
SHEDDING
Every since I was a little girl I wanted to be someone different. I would spend the first 33 years of my life building an ego that could overcome anything this world threw my way. Labels...I collected them like candy. Good and bad. I continued on adding new labels to my identity without giving it a second thought. Who was I? Foster kid..check. Mormon...check. All- american athlete...check. Smarty pants...check. Virgin...check. Those got me into college. What a story! The foster girl turned BYU full ride scholar. I believed everyone was walking around as if they were an actor in a play. Manipulating and faking their way through life and love. It WORKED...until it didn’t. I got the husband, the money, the kids, the house...the “dream.” Why did it feel like a nightmare? Maybe it was because I got it all based on lies. What came next? The self- sabotage. Oh the sabotage. That’s a story in itself. I’ll make it short: a fit mormon housewife has an affair with another married mormon man. I’ll never forget the day I told my husband and the other wife. I was on a ride and I desperately wanted off. My mind was not my mind. It was as if a demon possessed me. Come to find out...that’s exactly what happened. I was POSSESSED. Possessed by an ego that tried it’s best to destroy a soul. The spiral after divorce was indescribable. I slept with any man I could get my hands on. In my culture this IS NOT OKAY. I was walking around town with a scarlet letter on my back and I was going to live up to that LABEL. I was miserable. I went to countless therapists and doctors and could not figure out what was wrong with me. I wanted a label. Tell me I’m a sex addict. Tell me I’m borderline. Tell me I’m bipolar. I just wanted a label to understand why I was so messed up. No one would label me.
By Suzy Moon5 years ago in Humans
Are Food Banks A Sham
Recently, I was sent a link to a video of a well know celebrity that was promoting a dollar for dollar match to raise funds for a national food bank organization. As I watched the video and follow up interviews, I looked at my wife and said, "I wish people understood how food banks really work".
By David Edson5 years ago in Humans
Le Monocle
Le Monocle Respect and thanks to Erich Maria Remarque By Henry Alessandroni Marie paused at the foot of a statue. A little boy, arm outstretched, eternally reaching for the departed soul of the man with the pointed beard. Her heart welled as she studied the sculpted profile, of whom, she presumed, was the boy’s father.
By Henry Alessandroni5 years ago in Humans
Nowhere City
Toronto is a city that defies mythology. It is patently stubborn in its disregard for the romantic narrative; aloof in the anxious refusal to acknowledge itself beyond the micro-world of the workaday.
By Ben Dickey5 years ago in Humans
The Drive Home
As I drive home from work I look at the small town around me. It' such a picturesque setting, like something out of a book, but I wasn't born here. I wasn't raised here. This is not my home town. This is not where I'm from. I have lived here for over 21 years, the majority of my life, but I am originally from Tacoma, WA with a few early years spent in Portland, OR. I miss big cities. I miss the bustling malls, the zoos that have more than slugs and crows, and the live sporting events that don't involve your children. I miss the speed of life in a city. In 21 years I still haven't learned how to slow down yet. I walk fast. I talk fast. I drive fast.
By Ashley Parker5 years ago in Humans