Most recently published stories in Humans.
The sun smiled down on little Hero’s operation: a wooden fold-out table, and a hand-painted sign propped precariously above it.
It was safest to look for cans after three in the afternoon. In the big dumpsters, anyway. Some restaurants were lazy enough to toss the cans from a busy lunch service, workers in offices discarded their empty boosts of caffeine, and at the bottom was a layer of morning trash bags taken out by folks rushing to work. If Beatrice stayed away from the blue recycling bins, nobody shouted at her, mostly.
Chapter 1: All I can hear is his voice ringing in my ears; and all I can see is his figure fading to black. His words are a swirl of confusion in my head, but now they’re becoming more clear and distinct. There are two words that stand out among the rest, and the two objects in his hands are blurring my sight of everything else.
In a quiet neighborhood of Northern Italy, there was a lady that I never saw as a customer before. She approximately at around her mid-forty, wears quirky yet good-looking outfit, and ordered a hot cup of mocha with almond milk. I gave her the drink personally so I can get close to her. She has a very nice fragrance scent on her, fruity yet floral as if I was in a garden somewhere in France. She sat in the corner of the café where the natural lights are, opened her black little notebook, and started writing there. I gaze up upon her when it’s not as busy in the café, something about her attracts me in a respectful way. In my mind, I said: “I want to be like her when I grow up, she knows what she wants and her outfit is unusually stylish, not in a trendy way but in her own way.”
A Heart Full of Treasures:
I knocked on the door. I did not want to ring the bell, in case Harry was sleeping. The night nurse opened the door, greeted me with a smile and stepped aside for me to come in.
I turned twelve the year I lost my best friend. I met Anna when I was six, and she was eight, and we had just moved into the small suburb north of the city the rest of our family lived in.
The Boy That Couldn't Shoot Lasers Out of His Eyes
What?! There's a kid at school that can fly? Oh yeah, you didn't know? Yeah, he used to.. kinda.. float in right over there.
Sunny sat alone in her room daydreaming about all the possible ways she could help her husband retire. Her and Sam had been renting for five years since they married and had two four year old twin boys. She dreamed of owning a house with a white picket fence, a dog and a treehouse for her boys in a spacious backyard. If only this dream could become a reality.
Everybody Wants Something
Page 1,945, that’s where he told me to begin reading the book. It was Jeonjib by Cho and the page was marked by the poem, “The Song of Life.” Once you begin reading the poem, you soon realize it’s not Cho, rather instructions for escape. You’ll find the book on the shelf with the others, brother. I told no one and I’m asking that you do the same.
It was just an average stiflingly hot summer Saturday in Brooklyn on the day that the package arrived. The sick-sweet and heavy smell of garbage in the alley behind my crumbling apartment building hung in the air and spilled in like invisible molasses through my open bedroom window.
Cracking the Code
Cracking the Code by Steven R. Struthers Jacques Bissonet was finding life to be rather agreeable, particularly on this warm and sunny spring day. He was sitting outside a cafe in Lyons, the city of his birth, and drinking a glass of Veuve Cliquot, his favorite wine. Things were going well; he had no worries, and his bank account, while not exactly flush with cash, was in a healthy state.
Life As We Know!
Now a grown woman, I have faced uncertainties throughout my childhood that made me cringe. Many circumstances that have made me the woman I am today. Have to get through the hardships to find true meaning of blessings and understanding about life. Only you can write the book; your book. The little black book, your book of life!