humanity

Humanity begins at home.

Guide Me, Mama
I told Biyi to meet me in the Munchies restaurant at Ilupeju. He said that there was something uneasy about the way I sounded, but I insisted nothing was wrong. It was a lie. Something strange had happened.
By Oluwanifemi Maxwell6 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
Somni Prologue
“What’s past is prologue,” Professor Dallwood turns back to us, “even Shakespeare knew then that we could affect the future,” she says brightly, “even your final grade if you’ve gotten started on that final paper,” on that flat note everyone jumps to gather their belongings bustling to shuffle to the next part of the day.
By A’Moor_Creative6 years ago in Families
For Louis
The notebook’s small and faded. The little thing is speckled with dust and the spine is bent to a near-ninety-degree angle except where it’s belted shut with a shoelace. I shouldn’t care; there are real books in the yard sale, books that aren’t falling apart. But I’m curious. Why bother to keep basically scraps?
By Brynne Nelson6 years ago in Families
An Inherited Adventure
Asheville, NC, March 2nd, 1987, early Monday morning. Suddenly, a telephone rang: "Hello! Is this John Wilson?" "Yes, it is me. Who am I talking to?"
By Victoria Kurichenko6 years ago in Families
The Little Black Book
“What’s this?” I turned to my sister and showed her the small, black journal I’d found tucked into my father’s sock drawer while we were cleaning out his house.
By Brandy Miller6 years ago in Families
A Father's Love
Shane Jones had been “the boy”. Good looking, athletic, great smile, with a dimple that made girls go weak in the knees. It is one thing to be good looking and humble, it was completely different to be good looking and know it- Shane was the latter. He graduated high school with big dreams and big plans, none of which concerned anyone but himself.
By Noelani Jones6 years ago in Families
Secret to life
Turning off the lights to the barn after that evenings chores, Bella was exhausted but satisfied in tonight’s training progress. This new colt had come in 30 days ago with a whole year off of riding and she finally felt like she had consistency with his behavior. He was settling in, making friends and learning to trust her.
By Alli Hartwig6 years ago in Families
Grandfather's Legacy
Matthew sat on the floor in his grandfather’s room holding a book and turning it round and round in his hands. It was a little book. A little black book. A little, soft, black book that contained his grandfather’s secrets.
By Kristina Koutsoudas6 years ago in Families
The Day the Music Died
Mamaw and I shared a love of music as far back as I remember. She loved old country, golden oldies, and the music of the bygone eras. I loved all the genres especially classical. I started playing the violin because of her and I will be forever grateful. Music was a type of life force for us and now I have to find my way without her. A few weeks ago, I came home from school on a Friday expecting to go straight to violin practice. I entered the back door and threw my book bag on the floor. I fell over taking off my shoes on the mat in an effort to get my afternoon snack. Mom had messaged me earlier saying she made my favorite, peach cobbler! The smell had filled the whole house and I was salivating.
By Laura (Mea) Carlozzi 6 years ago in Families
Donna's Little Secret
"Donna Smith died," Bill said when I sat down at his table. "If that was her real name." It was a long running joke of his—almost a term of endearment between two solo residents of this senior high-rise. Donna enjoyed my brother’s sense of humor and always laughed when he said that same, tired, line.
By Evelyn Donahoe6 years ago in Families
Grandmama’s Attic
The ladder squeaks with my every uneasy step up. Years of unuse have taken a toll on this house, but the love and care it once had can still be felt. I hear faint whispers of nostalgia. It flows through my ears and caresses my heart. Grandmama would never let my sisters and I travel up this high before. But of course that never stopped us. We’d hide behind bookcases and under the desks in her office. Laughing even as she threw a fit before she’d send us back to our rooms without dinner. Even through her stoic looks and often harsh demeanor, she was a lovely woman at heart.
By AliakimTheOkay6 years ago in Families