humanity
The evolution of humanity, from one advancement to the next.
Tangible Symbols
I always thought it was a cruel joke that everyone, at some point in human history, looked at everything as symbolic. I closed the door to my four door sedan and began the slow ascent up the gravel driveway to the "Family Cabin" that was flanked on all sides by towering, spindly pines that gazed down at me as I entered the sacred hall of "solitude" (hint: the cabin was only five miles outside of town, hence the quotes around solitude). This was the same family cabin that had been passed down through my grandparents onto my mom and then, eventually, whenever I figure out the hell I'm doing with my life, it would be passed down unto me. Which is terrifying because, well, what do you do when you have a giant old, creaky, downright haunted piece of real estate that you only use to sit behind a laptop and keyboard? Look at the trees, see some faces in there and divine some weird-ass story about finding yourself in nature?
Ben HowardPublished about a month ago in Futurism
An Owl And A Dove
Kali- I met her three weeks ago, in the snow. I had never seen anything more beautiful and was greatly embarrassed after walking right into her. She had golden-brown skin and long dreadlocks, made even more magnificent by the contrast of the dreary January sky.
Crystal JaggerPublished about a month ago in Futurism
Good Things Come To Those Who Wait
I awoke with a start. Panting heavily, heart pounding in agitation, I looked around the room through bleary eyes. Lying on my back, I could see the beginning streaks of morning light filtering through my grandmother’s worn-out yellow curtains. It was only a dream. A bad dream, which unfortunately contained too many elements of truth. Sighing in resignation, I closed my eyes and rolled onto my belly, punching my relatively flat pillow for good measure. All at once, my frame went rigid as a board. My fingers gripped the edges of my pillow like a drowning man who has just been thrown a lifeline. The events of the last seven months played like scenes from the worst movie I had ever seen. Not wanting to trigger a stress induced asthma attack, I ruthlessly slammed that door into my mind. Yea, I envisioned a real door. It was painted a deep blood red. The black doorknob resembled a clawed talon-like hand extended in welcome, just waiting to snatch me into the abyss of depression beyond. Jerking upright I began my deep breathing techniques. Suddenly my nose became alert to the tantalizing smell of homemade biscuits. Smiling to myself, I felt the last tendrils of tension melt away. My grandmother always knew just what I needed. To some of the locals, she was a healer. Many others called her a witch. To me, she was just Gran. The elderly woman who took one look at the sad-eyed mute little girl and raised her as her own. Kicking my legs free of the clingy sheets, I made my way to the kitchen. My tiny grandmother moved adeptly around the room like someone half her age.
Shalom P.S.Published about a month ago in Futurism
Nelgin's Honesty
The doorbells jingle, a woman who looks to be about eight going on nine months pregnant waddles into X$team, a local mini-mart on the corner of North Lewis Drive. Her flip flops drag as she walks into the chip aisle to snag sour cream and onion Pringles. Next is the cold beverage aisle, where she contemplates every flavor of available juice.
Mystic beginnings
When I woke up that morning it seemed just like another day. Filled with the mundane task of my regular routine of house chores and taking care of the animals around the farm. Until I got an unusual call from a friend down the bayou who was concerned about some of her cattle gone missing. Losing your keys is one thing but a whole cow...strange. But hey mischief can strike at any moment who am I to say when things should go down. I picked up the phone sounding concerned. After hearing the news I finished breakfast and headed down that way to help. When I pulled up in the yard Rachel's face looked like she was missing more than just a cow. I reassured her that we'd find it to just take a moment and breathe...farm life ain't cheap. So I figured that's where the extra stress came from little did I know the cow was the least of our problems.
Alecia RayPublished about a month ago in FuturismLife in Alignment
Everything flowed; through her human eyes, from her soul to the cosmos. She was different; not unique, not refreshing, not weird, nor an outcast, or sociopath- but wordlessly different. She was not from this world and she knew it. Energetically sensitive as she was, she realized she was (what is known now as) an Empath at 5 years of age. She unknowingly embodied tremendous power. She could both receive what others put out energetically, and transmit to others energetic codes that would make them integrate higher vibrational frequencies and emote the feelings that corresponded. It was just a little energetic and emotional manipulation, but she had no idea that was the case at the time. She was just a child and knew that if someone’s energy field made her feel bad, she could make them feel better. Even if only because she wanted to feel better herself.
Chelsea HendersonPublished about a month ago in Futurism
Horror and Sin -- Runes etched in skin
A Room with no walls Lyrics by JD Glasscock I've been singing songs in a room with no walls Wondering how I got here
JD GlasscockPublished 2 months ago in Futurism
Relativity, the Problem With Perception
Preface A world of relativity, hell for those seeking the absolute, the truth. So many opinions, so many perspectives each claiming equal validity as merely an opinion. A world of many entities all experiencing the same phenomena yet perceiving them very differently and concluding in stark contrast. This world, this reality is very much is analogous to the story of the tower of Babel in biblical scripture. Systems built upon systems of limitation of perception and expression. I posit that this reality is designed to obscure truth. If the pessimistic slant of my words put you off reading further i.e. the emotional tone of message matters to you then it is unlikely that you seek truth; for to seek truth is to do so without expectation of its appeal or lack thereof.
The Teacher In BlackPublished 2 months ago in Futurism
When Heaven Cries
The pitter-patter of raindrops on my face coaxes me back to the edge of consciousness. I’m not sure how, but I force my eyes open. They are dry and painful, but—
Emma Lee JoyPublished 2 months ago in Futurism
Misandry
Written by Leon Zadok - December 21, 2020 Men rule the world. Should we care about a bit of prejudice thrown their way? If for one moment, we can think of society as being composed of just two genders we would all agree that women are more often victims than their male counterparts. Women account for almost all of the domestic violence cases reported. They are most often sexually assaulted, and not by other women. They have suffered and continue to suffer workplace discrimination that many male colleagues may simply not recognize. It is in no doubt they are discriminated against by virtue of their gender - attributed at birth and, to some, a perceived defect.
SNROCINUTAFPublished 2 months ago in FuturismDystopian Societies
Before you is an article explaining the different themes of a dystopian society present in our media today. In a dystopian society, the world is described as being the opposite of a perfect society. This society is as distressing and as oppressive as possible. A dystopia can be central; an enclosed town with a corrupt government terrorizing the people within. Including, a dystopian society could be considered universal if a nuclear apocalypse destroyed the world, besides one community, with a person in power being wicked to the citizens. In the documentation below, is a set of different medias that reveal dystopian societies are clarified to further the imagined dystopias. In the following composed source before you, is a make up of diverse forms of themes within the dystopian societies that our culture depicts.
Beige Shell WritingsPublished 2 months ago in FuturismEarly Pastoral Tribe
Early History: Pastoral Tribe The sun shone down on the steppes and plains, glinting off the tall reeds, which swayed in the soft breeze. I gently swiped a small bead of sweat from my forehead as my hands cramped from the constant motion of milking. I had been at this work for hours, jumping from one cow to the next, filling one container of the white liquid after another. I knew that my clan desperately needed the trading resources if we were to continue thriving, but, still, I grew drowsy from nature’s soft whispers. A large bee almost hummed me to sleep, but my thoughts cleared as a woman’s distant laughter shook me. I got back to work. After I filled a few more buckets with the rich milk, I stood up from my small stool with the bucket in hand and walked into our small abode.
Shelby WellsPublished 2 months ago in Futurism
