humanity
Mental health is a fundamental right; the future of humanity depends on it.
Faith in Humanity. Top Story - September 2024.
Sharon nervously tapped on her knee as she waited for one of the employees to call her name. She tried to keep herself calm, to tell herself that it wouldn’t be that bad, that she just needed to be patient. But as the minutes passed, and other names were called instead of hers, Sharon was finding it harder and harder to do that.
By Rebecca Pattonabout a year ago in Psyche
A Cup of Coffee
It was a Wednesday morning like any other at the café, one of those days where the orders never stopped arriving and the sound of cups mixed with the people. I had already made a dozen or so lattes and handed out countless muffins by the time she walked in. She appeared to be a typical client at first, a twentysomething girl dressed casually. But there was something about her that drew my attention, perhaps it was the way she hesitated to enter or the way she appeared to be carrying the weight of the entire world.
By creatorsklubabout a year ago in Psyche
Wacker
It was one of those mornings on Wacker Drive where the city felt wrapped in a cold, wet blanket. Fog clung to the high-rises, mixing with exhaust fumes and stale cigarettes, glowing eerily. I’d been camped on this corner long enough to know that in Chicago, hope was a luxury, and the weather wasn’t giving out favors. At least I had a warm coat to keep me from thinking about how I couldn’t feel my feet. The city was waking up, people hurrying by, heads down, avoiding my eyes.
By Aaron Richmondabout a year ago in Psyche
The Empty Nest. Runner-up in Small Kindness Challenge. Top Story - September 2024.
I like it here. Big trees. There’s the wood, I like it there as well, but I like it here. Gaps between the trees. Grass and soil and the bird bath. I like it best when they’re not here. The people. The dog. There’s a cat, sometimes, on his way elsewhere. I like him least of all. And squirrels. Bothersome squirrels.
By Hannah Mooreabout a year ago in Psyche
Bake Sales And Dead Dogs
It was a crisp day in October in East Tennessee - one of those perfect fall days. Not too cold, not too hot. I was driving home from a day out, and my little chihuahua was in the dog kennel in the passenger seat next to me. He goes everywhere I go, and that's just the way it's supposed to be.
By Hope Martinabout a year ago in Psyche
Tea of Warmth
It was a grey day in Plymouth, a day when the rain didn't just fall; it seemed to hover as if it were something solid that you could touch. It seeped into everything and everyone. My little tea shop on the cobbled seafront promenade had become a haven for people fleeing the rain and seeking warmth all afternoon.
By Bradley Knight about a year ago in Psyche
The 3.52
I was late. Well, not late. But not early enough to be sure I wouldn’t be. The bus service around here is crap. They say you wait ages for a bus and then three come at once, but around here, you just wait ages for a bus. I was on the 3.52, according to the sequence on the timetable, but that bus was the 4.11, and there was no disguising it.
By Hannah Mooreabout a year ago in Psyche
