humanity
Humanity begins at home.
The Elevator Incident
Abby clutched the carboard box tighter to her chest as more people entered the elevator. Twenty-nine floors and each time the doors opened; her cheeks flushed with humiliation. After six years at Legacy Insurance, she’d been booted, let go, down-sized – who was she kidding? She’d been fired! Her eyes filled again and she blinked away the tears. She would not cry on an elevator with a bunch of curious on-lookers. It was bad enough she was carrying the box of her personal possessions, so everyone knew she’d been fired. A photograph of her dog Bruce was on top, a Pitbull with the goofiest tongue-lolling smile that usually brightened her day, but now just made her sad.
By Dorothy Niederer6 years ago in Families
Oanna's Departure
“Why is daddy walking so fast?” Khai was having a hard time trying to keep up with his father. It was difficult to walk as fast with his little legs. Maybe they were running late. They were on their way to see Khai’s big sister Oanna before she leaves for her long trip, and Khai didn’t want to miss her. So he was doing his best not to slow his father down.
By Maxime Garant-Amyot6 years ago in Families
Two Books In My Pocket
I never really knew Uncle Jack. I do remember that he was fun to be around. There was plenty of laughing. And drinking. Actually in my family there was also plenty of fighting. And there was one particular fight that cut him off from me right when it would’ve been nice to have him in my young life. He was my father’s uncle, my grandpa’s little brother. And what happened between Grandpa and my Great Uncle Jack is a story for another writing. Of course it was petty. These things always are. Suffice to say, we had to essentially cut ties with him so as not to alienate Grandpa. But by then he was living in Los Angeles and had started seeing success as a novelist. I always liked him, although I really didn’t remember much about him.
By Yvette Hargis6 years ago in Families
Jalil's Story
Jalil sat, leaned against the cold brick wall at the far end of Chisolm park; his knees to his chest, head in his hands, doing his best to keep passerby’s from seeing his tears and heaving chest, the obvious outward signs of his sobbing. He wasn’t sure he could withstand the ridicule he felt would inevitably come from seeing one of the neighborhoods cool guys crying like a baby. He closed his eyes, tried not to think any more about the people that may or may not see him in this state and let his mind drift back to the last time he and his twin sister, Mya, came to Chisolm park together.
By Charles Marsden6 years ago in Families
The antiques and the collector
Antiques. My favorite thing in the world. Antiques are my way of connecting with history, the richness it beholds, the secrets that can be told. But in my town, the history runs short. Where everyone knows everyone, the things they value, no longer hold meaning, and most times they end up here.
By Kim Namjoon6 years ago in Families
Lean In
Lean In Susie just couldn’t believe her luck. Her head was spinning. She walked a bit slower now, moving closer to the coffee shop, reflecting on the path that led her to this point. She knew her written words held great content but she wasn’t sure if there would be any public interest in the whole package. Its a great book filled with scrumptious details with tasteful variety. The participants ranged in age, status and came from various walks of life. Not surprisingly, some were hesitant to allow her to share their stories and information. Honestly though, they really had no true choice. These were Susie’s stories as much as theirs. She was there at the beginning. Developing the relationships, finding the right elements, tested the the boundaries and she was definitely responsible for the experiences that ensued from this knowledge. Susie brought a lot of these scripts to life.
By Theresa Jackson6 years ago in Families
KOA
It was rather ironic that the waves of nostalgia crept in when I was doing what I loved most in the world. Sitting out here on my faithful old logger, I turned my head to the far right and could just make out the dozens of well-oiled machines that had begun to pop up all over the headland. These were the mechanical monstrosities that had begun tearing down the centuries old ‘shacks’ that held so much history and many secrets. Within the blink of an eye, the surf shacks that had provided so many occupants over the years with a sense of security and serenity were gone. Lost to developers and mining magnates who were waiting for their approval to be granted which would allow them to drill into our precious ocean for oil and goodness knows what else.
By Sarah Lechte6 years ago in Families
