Humans
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Stories in Humans that you’ll love, handpicked by our team.
Mem Beleco
Eyes. I look into the mirror, the mirror covered in uneven condensation, and I see a pair of eyes. Double eyelids, shaped like almonds.
Jennisea RedfieldPublished about 19 hours ago in Humans
Perception Is Everything
Life is not easy for any of us, for one persons mountain, could be another persons mole hill and visa versa. When dealing with individuals who choose to place the value of monetary wealth over the value of people, I feel incredible pity. No matter what situation you may find yourself in, it is up to you to decide, how that situation, whether good, or bad, will effect you.
Kaylon ForsythPublished a day ago in HumansThe End is Nigh
The finish line is in sight. Twenty-four more sleeps until retirement. It seems like only yesterday I expressed my intention to retire.
Shelley CarrollPublished 2 days ago in HumansWhat Neighbours Do
“I’m dying.” He said out of the side of his mouth as I stood in the dispensary line at the pharmacy. I was looking for some relief from a nagging bladder infection. I was not prepared for this conversation with my neighbour. A moment passed between us and yet I still couldn’t come up with a response, so I reached out and hugged him, whispering, “I’m so sorry,” into his wrinkled neck. It was the first time I’d ever embraced him. No, that’s not true. One day last Spring, he’d knocked on my door to complain about a dying tree across the road. I slipped through the front door and stood on the porch in my bare feet to discuss the options for the tree. But the conversation went from Town business to neighbourly banter, and then waded into therapy territory. We stood out there for an hour that day. He told me he’d lost a child. That his brother had dementia, as does his wife. He explained his whole life story - where he had come from and how he ended up on Bishop Street, in our little corner of the world. My toes turned purple and stuck to the concrete step.
Christina HunterPublished 8 days ago in Humans
10-Year-Letter
I got the idea in my head to write a letter to my fifteen-year old self a couple days ago as a healing practice for me and I thought it would be worth sharing it.
Chloe Rose Violet 🌹Published 14 days ago in Humans
Empathy With A Vowel
The bards of old had it right. Once upon a time there was no names for musical things, no strikes of chord, drumbeats or unified efforts, an array of meaning that doesn't exist in genres. The point was to resonate with an earthly wonder, a far reach to the atmosphere for words to bring forward a sound that matched the clouds. Or any living force that moved nature. Spread your wings, fly a bit was to empathize with a vowel and howl louder than any animal. To make vocal chords disappear and blend as sound in an arrangement known as music. There was only one purpose – to express yourself. To lift your head and send them to chaos, to roll them to the ground, or to lift their spirits to the air. Or just have people forget their troubles for a while. To find your voice is all that matters. So, once upon a time whether it was a bard of old, a thing with wings or ancient wisdom leaving it's stamp on time, an orb was left behind. One to bring wonder to song. Forget is my middle name.
Canuck ScriberPublished 15 days ago in HumansGoodbye kiss
When I was pondering what to title the subtitle to this journal entry, article, blog post-whatever you want to call this piece, I originally labeled this “The trauma of abandonment” but then I realized why is everything the ‘trauma of’ because yes, even though the result to things is traumatic, what happens to us is still the reality of it. Reality is what causes the trauma, so I changed the subtitle to “The reality of abandonment” which indeed is traumatic. For example, the similarities to being in a horrific car accident, you can’t control that it happened to you, it’s not your fault that the cars collided in inspectable timing, but it’s the aftermath that you have to live with. The sad result and reality of what happened.
Natasha CollazoPublished 17 days ago in Humans
I'm So Much More Interesting When My Life is Boring.
I've been struggling with putting this post together, do I write a poem, the writing for which I'd like to be known? Do I write a reflective essay because 100 and one year and the changing of my vocal plus status are massive adjustments for me? Do I express my true, full thoughts on a year and one hundred stories on this platform? Am I putting too much pressure on myself for a perceived milestone that doesn't really mean much? Yes the answer to that last one is a resounding yes.
Collections
Themed story collections curated by the Vocal moderators.
Dating: Do's & Don'ts
Dating is complicated. So we simplified it for you. What to do and what not to do - the Dating edition.
Online Dating
Match.com, Tinder, JDate, and beyond. Welcome to the world wide web of dating. Are you ready to sign up?
Second Chance at Love
From breaking up after 3 years to divorcing after 50; we're here to tell you that you can love again.
Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Humans.
Charli XCX and George Daniel: A Love Story Culminating in "F---ing for Life"
Love is in the air, and it's not just a catchy lyric for pop sensation Charli XCX and indie-pop drummer George Daniel of The 1975. The couple recently announced their engagement, and it's safe to say they're ready to shout it from the rooftops.
sainath chavanPublished 21 minutes ago in HumansHope and Resilience
In the depths of adversity, when the world seems draped in shadows and despair, there exists an intangible yet powerful force: hope. It's a beacon that flickers amidst the darkest nights, guiding us through turbulent waters and urging us to persevere. Hope isn't merely a wish; it's a lifeline, a testament to the resilience of the human spirit in the face of insurmountable odds.
Idowu ShogbesanPublished 21 minutes ago in Humans
Study show extracellular vesicles can also deliver messages from non-human cells
Unveiling the Intricate World of Extracellular Vesicles: Messengers Beyond Imagination Introduction: Hey there! Did you know that scientists at the University of Connecticut have made a super cool discovery about how cells communicate with each other? They found out that cells use tiny messenger bubbles called extracellular vesicles (EVs) to send important messages to each other. It's like a postal service for our cells! But here's the really interesting part - these EVs can also carry pieces of bacteria, which helps us understand how bacteria affect our health.
How I Created My Lawyer Character – Skit Maker Layi Wasabi
Fast-rising Nigerian comedian Layi Wasabi is quickly becoming the skitmaker of choice for a lot of people. His content, funny and witty, is well thought-out and his signature lawyer character is highly beloved by many who follow him.
Jide OkonjoPublished about 4 hours ago in HumansAshamed
Please forgive me, I have abused you a lot, come with me and I will introduce you to your grandson. Shiraz had married Sara willingly but still he was not happy because he was tired of fulfilling her daily requests. A year passed like this. Shiraz did not realize the passage of time and a The dear little son was placed in their arms by nature. Both were very happy. The child was born in the hospital and other people's children were born on the same day. Someone was with his mother, someone with his sister, but Shiraz was running for Sara alone. The woman in the bed with him also had a son. There was a fountain of laughter and happiness. His mother-in-law and Nand was giving charity to him. The child was being loved while he was standing alone next to Sara. Both were silent but happiness was evident on their faces.
Umar FaridPublished about 4 hours ago in Humans
How to accept people without losing your individuality
Unconditional love is essential to living in harmony with those around us. Much more than romantic love, it means accepting others as they are, free from judgment or expectation. We will talk about the universal law of unconditional love, and I will provide helpful tips on integrating it into daily life.
Zondra Dos AnjosPublished about 4 hours ago in HumansMother's love,
On his deathbed, when I was repeatedly apologizing to him for my shortcomings, he said, "I agree, son..." We were poisoned by my mother when she forcefully washed our heads in the winter. Who had seen Lux, Capri, Rexona, the clothes were washed with palm brand soap and also the head. would turn red. Mother would get furious at our slightest mischief and pick up the washing stick which we called Dumni. But we were never killed. Sometimes Grandmother saved us at the right time. Sometimes Baba and sometimes we ran away. Our camp was in the middle of the crops, away from the splendor of the village. Taking the trail from the camp to the village was the greatest of Amma. There used to be a shopping tour and missing this tour was our biggest misfortune! If ever Amma went to the village alone, she would try to entertain us with toys on her return. At first, we used to beat Ammaji with our small hands...pulling her dupatta....then put our head in her lap and cry. We used to run back and forth. In the evening, when we would return from the village, we would cry a lot. We liked the village very much. "Mother, when will we stay in the village?" To my question, mother used to reply "When you grow up, you will do a lot of work." Money will come from your marriage and so on. "Thus we, mother and son, would reach the dark camp while talking. I remember there was a wedding celebration at Baba Muzaffar's place in the village. There were lights burning and firecrackers were also bursting. I begged my mother to stay here for the night but she did not agree. While returning from the village crying behind G, Nate became fit and secretly returned to the village. It was evening. Mother realized my disappearance after a long time. She used to make noises in the fields in the darkness of the night like a madman and hung lanterns in every corner from the camp to the village. When I recovered, she attacked me like a tigress. That night, if the women of the village did not save me, my mother would have killed me. Once Abuji had gone to Sargodha to meet his father. I was six or seven years old at that time. I had a severe fever. Ammanji wrapped me in a warm sheet and lifted me on his shoulder and passed through the fields to the village three kilometers away. She took me to see the doctor at the base. On her return, while jumping over a ditch, she fell in the field but saved me. She must have hurt her knee. This incident is one of the oldest memories of my life. She was definitely a woman of great courage and was grinding hard till her last breath. Then I grew up and moved away from Amma. After a year. When I came home, my mother would hug me and cry, but I would laugh in front of everyone. Then at night, when everyone went to sleep, I would secretly go and lie down with my mother and hide my face in her blanket and cry. Mother used to cut fodder in the field and lift a very heavy sheaf on her head and throw it in front of the toke. Sometimes she used to put fodder in the toke and drive the toke by herself. When I was at home, I would help her as much as possible. When she got tired, she would ask in a whisper, "Let's talk about your so-and-so at home?" She knew that I am a born lover and my battery is fully charged with such words. Then we built a house in the village and mother married me of her choice. I moved to the city with my family and mother settled her own world in the village. She also came to the city when my first son was born. He also took them for a trip to the sea. While drinking tea on the beach of Clifton, he said, "Our tent looks more beautiful than this sea." When my mother fell ill, I was on leave and kept feeding her Bisco Pan for several days and explained that it was a minor stomach ache. It will be over soon. Then the pain increased and I was taken to a big hospital in the city, where the doctor told me that the liver cancer is in the last stage. I felt the urgent need of blood, so I lay down on the blood bank bed myself. When my mother found out, she He looked at me with sadness and said, "Why did you buy blood from somewhere, crazy, somewhere?" She had done it and on her return she had fallen while jumping. "They laughed out loud, so I said, "Mother, forgive me, I could not serve you." I think that I hardly served my mother. I didn't have time. But she was very generous. On her death bed, when I was repeatedly asking her forgiveness for my shortcomings, she said, "I agree." I am a son․․․․․․․․․․․․․․․․․․․․․․․․․․․․․․ The next day he started feeling heavy, so he went to the cemetery and sat on the grave and cried. It was time to give birth to my mother. Now I can't even believe that my mother was ever in this world or not. Today, while circumambulating Baitullah, the Pathans and Sudanese played football and hit the wall of the Kaaba. It felt as if after a long time, I reached my mother's lap again. The same peace that used to come in her lap. Adoption is the same love which also included the element of fear...this time he did not tear his mouth apart and cried..the Lord Kaaba who loves more than seventy mothers.
Umar FaridPublished about 5 hours ago in HumansSurprise, Surprise
One of the things that I love is a surprise. Creating them or getting them, it doesn't matter. The whole process of coming up with the surprise, then the anticipation of seeing someone be surprised is one of the best feelings of accomplishment that one can have - and being surprised makes you appreciate that someone wanted to do that for you.
Janis RossPublished about 5 hours ago in Humans
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