Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Humans.
2021: The Idiot Era.
It baffled me. When I travelled back to 2021, I realized I had forgotten how much we complained about our oppressed freedoms. We’d waltz in and out of shops, restaurants, and pubs (with seated service only) - without being monitored or followed to the degree we are now. When I travelled to what historians refer to as the ‘idiot era’ I noticed people complained about the aggravation evoked when they were instructed to conceal their faces with flimsy, cloth masks. It irritated them when they scanned track and trace by dancing their phones at café windows until QR codes invigorated a tick's appearance on their screens.
Rachel BrennanPublished 3 years ago in HumansKiss It For Luck
Kiss It for Luck The world may never know what caused this shit to happen. Does it matter anyway? The world is shot to shit. I’m crazy. I live in a place where I don’t know if things are covered in ashes or snow.
Tracy Pearce-SnyderPublished 3 years ago in HumansBorn in Dystopia
I was born into a dystopia. Founded on others’ ideals and expectations. Following the roadway that was set up for me. My mind was melded into something it is not. My actions being controlled like a marionette. Any wrong step and I am looked at as a black sheep. The idea of a dystopian world is spoken of some sort of fiction in which we portray through books and movies. Zombies taking over, people fighting until death, and the colliding of a corrupt government. Though, I can not help but feel that we are already in a dystopian world. A world in which we praise white skin, give power to straight men, lift up those with money, bring down those with little, and take away any sort of imagination. The dream has already been built and how to get there is written. If you go against this box that was built for you, you go against the dream. This is a world in which we can not dream, but in which we can simply form into what we are meant to be. To go against it is to be seen as doing wrong because those who built it -- the white and the wealthy -- get uncomfortable in those who see right through it. Who see that there is more to it and that the color of their skin or the look of their bank accounts is not what creates this world. It is the people and we are here to fight for what is ours. To fight for our own beliefs in following our heart.
Anna VahlenkampPublished 3 years ago in HumansThe Weight of Justice
Chapter One Today is my 14th birthday. As I trace a cake with my finger over this chalky mirror I blow my candle dust away. The powder from my pointer quickly settled into the dust again. It is my first birthday on my own but my wish today is the same as it is every year; I wish my name wasn’t Justice. My grandmomma, Ms. Henrietta, told me I was born into a civil society, or at least what was deemed “civil” for back then. She said it was a cool evening in the fall and she was at my birth momma’s bedside as they both stared out the window holding hands. They saw two birds fly into a nest settled in this enormous and astoundingly beautiful oak tree. Supposedly, it was right there in that room that my momma said she wanted to name me Oakley. It must’ve been one marvelous tree. So why is my name Justice? Well, unfortunately for me, my real momma died shortly after giving birth to me. Something about a blood clot traveled to her brain that there wasn’t anything the doctors could do about it. Cue grandmomma being devastated and decided to change my momma’s wishes for my name in a twisted attempt to “honor her '' by naming me after her. Justina Rose Brooks was my momma. And my life purpose was bestowed upon me to bring JUSTICE to this world, as Ms. Henritetta would continue reminding me this over the course of my existence. Supposedly, I look just like my momma, too. It doesn’t make me too sad when I think about her since I never really knew her. Grandmomma told me plenty of stories about her but she did not like talking about my daddy though. She would get mad at me for even asking about him. Heck, I didn’t even find out who my daddy was until some time a year ago. I’ll get to that later…
Risk
Risk What will you choose, when life brings death "The long sleeves are kind of a dead giveaway," Christian whispered, as he leaned conspicuously towards her right ear.
Aidan NealPublished 3 years ago in Humansday 101
The world around me is turning to ruins, everywhere I look the buildings crumble and the ground shakes. What am I supposed to do?
Sydney KeithPublished 3 years ago in HumansUnconditional Love
How would you describe unconditional love? Would you say that it is a love that never fades? A love that can’t be broken?
Christie St. VilPublished 3 years ago in HumansDanaus Kluk
"They paved paradise, and put up a parking lot"... First, They took the butterflies. It was a smart move – small and unnoticeable. After all, how often does a butterfly land on you anyways?
Marina GabraPublished 3 years ago in HumansFinding Genevieve
Today makes 23 days since I last heard your voice. The memory of your face brings me solace on the darkest days. It’s dark all the time now. As if when the world shifted and civilization lost its place, the sun and moon shifted too. Some days are longer, most have chosen a place to hide from her venomous rays. I hear them knocking. Always knocking. As if to taunt us out into the vicious world. Maybe one day I’ll listen and become one of them. I never stray too far at night while scavenging from what those fiends leave behind. I’ve found some things of value. Perhaps I’ll share with you one day. There are things here I can’t explain. Things I never knew, no, never wished were possible roaming around. I was almost caught once by one of the turned. He was rummaging through some old garbage cans someone had sets on fire the night before. I happened to step on what I later came to realize was a heart shaped necklace. As I bent down to pick it up and I hit my head on the metal sheet. The turned one must’ve heard me as he turned his head in my direction. Thankfully, I was still crouched down to the ground. He went back to the cans as if searching for something. I don’t know why but I feel as though It has something to do with this necklace. This necklace may be what he’s searching for. I need to keep it safe. I don’t know what it is but I feel like it’s the key, not just a key but THE key.
Sub-Toronto Mix
Sub-Toronto Mix The fluffy, dreary, darkened clouds seep over the sky heralding the advent of another storm. They’ve become common place now, in 2221. Man has scorched the earth with overpopulation and industry. Now, the sweltering heat of the day and freezing cold of the twilight have dispersed the population into pockets of living space. The largest populace continues to be in large urban cities that have a history in tourism, which no longer exists. Today, if and when you decide to visit a historic place, beware and be prepared!
Malak kalmoni ChehabPublished 3 years ago in HumansA New Columbia
The towering, old birch trees still line route 29 - the once main route in and out of Columbia, Maryland, one of America’s first planned cities. The route now ends eerily, yet neatly into flames of rose bushes that line the holographic solar shield that keeps all in and everything else out. Now called New Columbia, a namesake for the “once-heralded Christopher Columbus” is the only standing city after the final race war that obliterated the vast urban, environmental, rural and ethnographic landscape of a formerly powerful United States. This is the final Columbia of the former American “democratic” experiment. Like early Jamestown, it is a singular enclave, an unforeseen futuristic descendant. Unlike Jamestown, it is a place where access is due not to racial purity, but rather mixedness.
Nichelle CalhounPublished 3 years ago in HumansOrbits
You watch from your hospital bed, eyes analyzing the scene in front of you. Nurses take turns checking in on you - walking in and out with their shoes squeaks signaling they're near.