humanity
Humanity begins at home.
Hope Chimes
Jayla had always known she wanted to be a mother, there was just always an empty ache inside of her from an early age. She never really found it very shocking considering she hadn’t ever really met her own. She just didn’t always have the best of luck with men…or fertility. So imagine her shock when she did finally end up pregnant in times like this after a sad drunken, the world is ending so why not, one-night stand. Talk about bad timing.
By Kristen Thomas-Jones5 years ago in Families
We just knew.
“Are you seriously doing mindfulness during the apocalypse?” “The apocalypse is when we need mindfulness the most!” Milly replied with her characteristic combination of snark and cheer. She ignored the dull ache in her chest and got up onto her feet, “besides, I think we’ve turned a corner…”
By Alex Croyle5 years ago in Families
Finding Tito
It is August in Miami, Florida. I am five years old, my brother is seven. We are at home with our mom and a few relatives while my dad and uncle work on the roof. We hear loud hammering, footsteps, as well as the vibration of the portable generator that sounds like a chainsaw. The power has been out for days. My dad and uncle come back into the house. They say they got an interesting view of the neighborhood and suggested we all go out for a walk.
By Liseth Giraldo5 years ago in Families
The Light Thief
The Light Thief It was cold in Area 71…or, previously known as the Primorsky District off the Northern coast of Russia. Biting winds and sharp snowflakes that could cut into a person’s cheek like dozens of tiny knives, blindly pelted over and over, unrelenting and without any penitence. Whoever could possibly think of choosing to be there, or any other part of Russia for that matter was far beyond Margot McCallahan’s imagination. She shuddered at the thought while adjusting the meter on a long iron pole, trying to read the digital numbers around the ice build up.
By Lindsey Nelson5 years ago in Families
The Wide Wide World
S. Hileman Iannazzo June 29, 2021 Not to brag, but I learned to read the year before kindergarten. I’m not a prodigy, I just had a very dear, elderly aunt who, with great patience, taught me the basics. She was a spinster, and for a time, she lived with my family. I’m not sure how old she was, but to five year old me she seemed at least a hundred. She even smelled old. My brothers would giggle when she, without a shred of embarrassment, would let go of a dusty fart, sitting on the couch next to me. Her name was Bertha, but everyone called her Byee. We didn’t have bedtime stories in my family, but thanks to my Byee we damn sure had books.
By S. Hileman Iannazzo5 years ago in Families
Mudculber
Mudculber When I was five I was pushed into a door with a endless flight of stairs, my father picked me up as I cried for my mother who had been split up from us. I was too young to understand what was going on, but the screams and cries and all the violence was enough for me to understand that whatever was happening wasn’t good. My father dropped me off in a stainless steel room, my older brother was there, he was only ten going on eleven at the time. “where’s mum?” he asked my dad. He signed to my brother something since he was hearing impaired. “GO!” he yelled to my dad and with that he sprinted out of the room. “Daddy!” I yelled as he ran out. My brother said. “Karissa! stop!” I looked at my brother and he came down to my level. “He’s coming back, he just has to go get mum.” when he came back he was shoved into our room. He screamed. “you can’t just kill her!” a guard who was named Thomas Dickson looked back and said. “she’s already dead. There’s no cure for that strain of Mudculber.”
By Kathy Colbert5 years ago in Families
Magic Stirred in Me
Learning How to Play I can remember reading The Velveteen Rabbit. It wasn’t at bedtime. It was in the late 90s into the early 2000s on a dignified soft brown couch in my piano teacher’s living room. My older brother Shay and I took lessons on Wednesday early afternoons. What is more enlightening about The Velveteen Rabbit is the inner universal truths in it. But what surpasses those truths is my piano teacher who demonstrated them through her love and care and sharing her passion with me for music. It would inspire me with courage in my future path, but more importantly, she taught me the value in loving what you do.
By Rachael Jaeger5 years ago in Families
How I Learnt About Sorrow
As a child all of the stories I remember circulated around my grandmother's willow tree. It was the setting for every tale and featured in every story I read for many years. My grandmother was enamoured with Australian stories about native flowers and gum nut babies and as a nature artist herself she loved to paint leaves and foliage in minute detail while I sat in the corner of her basement studio and lost myself in the pages of May Gibbs’ fantasy picture books. But the story I remember being most affected by was one called ‘Dot and the Kangaroo’ by Ethel Pedley. My grandmother would tell it to me in instalments when I stayed with her until I was old enough to read it for myself and then I read it over and over again to try and recreate the tender feelings it evoked in my growing heart.
By Delaney Jane5 years ago in Families
Oops There Goes The Tale
Oops there goes the tale…. Most of us can remember our grandparents in a certain light. Trips to the store where they bought us toys, and candy. Cabinets STACKED with sugar. Hot cocoa shots instead of coffee, the guest bedroom, our own play room. I remember all of that from my childhood.
By Rambles4you5 years ago in Families
