Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Humans.
THE IDEAL LOVE AFFAIR IS NOT REAL!
We are living in a culture obsessed with the idea of being captivated in a love affair, of finding the perfect ONE, the ultimate IDEAL romance and happy ever after, of divine union, of finding God within another. And we expect it to come easy or be utterly sacrificial in nature
Lucie Arkel SramkovaPublished 3 years ago in HumansA Brief History
A Brief History By Stephen Donnelly Recently I have taken up a hobby of three dimensional drawing and art. I was never good at drawing on a second dimensional plane no matter how hard I tried. And the way my grandmother tried to ‘teach’ me makes it hard to want to pursue it. A lot of memories of her scratching out what I had done. Drawing over what I had drawn to make it look like she wanted it to.
Unabated LemonPublished 3 years ago in HumansAs I Lay Here
As I lay here, wide awake, the sounds are overwhelming. I hear the leaves rustle behind the broken boards that are left of the broken wall. I hear the howl of the wolves in the woods. I hear the buzzing of the flies by the hole filled ceiling. As I lay here, wide awake, I wonder if I’ll ever be warm again. If I’ll ever see my mother, who kept me inside for so long. I am scared. I am alone. I hide, behind the old stacks of hay inside the worn down barn. I traveled far from my warm, safe home to be in this dump. Now I wonder, will I starve to death here? I hear my stomach growling and I can’t help but wonder why I left to begin with.
Chrystal HynekPublished 3 years ago in HumansThe Shape Shifter
THE SHAPE SHIFTER Ella had spent most of her life on the farm and thought she knew it like the back of her hand, better even. She’d walked every inch of the land, from the front fence facing onto the lane to the low mound of a hill up the back, covered in scrub and thistles.
Jude RussellPublished 3 years ago in HumansLegal Alien in Southern California - part 5
Being an international student was expensive. We had to pay ten times more than the residents. Because of that, I always tried my best to get an A in every class.
A Dark Existence—The Wandering Small Fish, Two Halves of the Same Pond
It happened on his fifth night there, the boy’s first Wednesday there that second trip. His friend, Fate, decided to work that night because her work ethic was undetainable even during vacation. The boy admired Fate for that and so much more considering her tragic childhood. A similar childhood to the boy’s.
Andrew DominguezPublished 3 years ago in HumansSaving You
Today I can officially say that I am here to save you. You and I, we are going to become wonderful friends. Your weathered veins, cratered from the April rains. The paint chips flaking off from the dog days of summer. In the corners, nests from wildlife seeking shelter through bone chilling winters. You are man made but feel like a fresh hug from Mother Nature. Built for a purpose beyond the consumerism that is eating away at the earth today.
The Old Barn
Once upon a time in a land that was painted by the golden sun was a town. There was something magical about this place, it was unlike any other town in the entire world. Lightsdream Village, a name chosen after an explorer that aspired to change the world: his name was Hugh Lightsdream. As its history goes, Hugh was a true nomad with roots of the unknown. Born as an orphan Hugh never felt a rooted connection to any specific place, instead he created his soul from the bits and pieces of places and people he'd come across that felt familiar. The journey to find his roots allowed him to teach all kinds of people The Art of Alchemy, and brought him to destinations like the peak of Mt. Rainier, to the sandy beaches of an island in the Pacific Ocean called Guam. This was where Hugh discovered the most important lesson of what it means to be an explorer.
Rebecca CarmenPublished 3 years ago in HumansThe Roman Line
The Roman Line By Danielle Lenaghan Sheets James was underdressed, freezing and irate, “Janet is dragging us to a creepy old barn in middle of BF Biddulph Township in -1℃! We’re supposed to be on lockdown guys. If I catch COVID…” Janet got in his face and scolded him, “You’ve always been such a pantywaist James!” She lowered her voice and turned her head toward the moon… “It must be tonight, February 3, 2021… when the clock strikes midnight it will be the 141st anniversary of the massacre… leaving a family butchered… and a farm in ashes. We’re almost to Roman Line, then it’s past the church, through the field and into the woods...” James’ brother, Matt, was way ahead of the pack. His flaming red locks aglow in the light of the waning gibbous. “I found it losers,” Matt bellowed through the darkness, “who has the flashlights?” Christine noticed the heaviness of the snow clouds, “dark and ominous,” she commented, “the crows in the naked trees are glassy eyed and watching”. The screech of a barn owl stopped her in her tracks. “I’m just going to stay here until you guys check it out,” Christine mumbled, clutching tightly to her Scooby-Doo sleeping bag. Matt was smoking a cigarette and guzzling bourbon when Donnie caught up. Donnie was sporting a headlamp and carrying two flashlights. “I’ll check for critters,” he announced as he kicked the side door in. He yelled to Matt, “It’s an 8x10 foot room, nothing but a few shovels, a rusted scythe and an old scooter covered in chicken shit.” The next room housed empty coops and remnants left behind by previous partiers. Red shattered bong glass, empty beer cans, and a plethora of cigarette butts littered the room. Donnie picked up a forgotten deck of Tarot cards lying on a beer-stained Mad Magazine. He flipped the top card, revealing The Fool. Instantly, he heard a loud wooden creak and ran into the cattle stalls. Dust particles danced through the burst of moonlight beaming from the hayloft. A large figure rose in a cloud of dust and shone a blinding light. Donnie blocked his eyes and pivoted away before he heard Rory burst out laughing, “I came in through the hayloft, idiot! You look like you browned your trousers buddy!” Rory inspected his surroundings, “nothing up here but a coffee table, some pigeon shit and a bunch of empty beer cans.” Janet, James, Matt and a reluctant Christine appeared one by one in the hayloft. “Come on up Donnie,” belched Janet, “unless you’re the chicken shit!” By the time Donnie climbed the wooden ladder, Janet had the decrepit table set with a bowl of apples, six candles, a photograph and an antique pocket watch. Donnie was breathless, but still able to give Janet some crap, “what the hell Janet, who is this dude?” She snatched the photograph from his hand. “That’s William Donnelly,” Janet thundered. “Everyone knows about the Donnelly massacre. It’s part of Lucan lore, something we all whispered about, way before our parents wanted us to. It’s rumored that the Donnelly gravestone was removed from St. Pat’s cemetery in the 1960’s and placed in an old nearby barn. The monument, etched with the word ‘murdered’ under the names of the five butchered, was attracting too many tourists, each chipping away pieces for a souvenir. I believe that gravestone was brought here!” Janet picked up the watch and began to swing it back and forth like a pendulum. “This belonged to William Donnelly…the word ‘mother’ is engraved on the inside cover...” “You’re so full of it, Janet,” spouted Matt. Janet’s brows knitted, “if everyone will just shut up, I will tell you why we’re here.” Janet passed shot glasses to the obedient five then proceeded to pour each a nip of absinthe. Rory was the first to bark, “that’s not a shot Janet, I’m not a child.” Janet spit back, “actually, you are a child Rory, but ‘the green fairy’ will make you hallucinate if you have too much of it. Just sit down and listen.” Janet removed her hood and dusted the snow from her white parka. She took a sip of absinthe and began her monologue. “It was February 3rd, 1880, a cold night with snowflakes in the air and Taurus’ fiery red eye peering through the dark sky. The Vigilance Committee assembled at Cedar Swamp Schoolhouse. Grievances about the horse mutilating Donnelly clan were endless. It was just after midnight when the armed party of thirty-five started on their journey toward the homestead.” “Nothing good happens after midnight,” Christine interjected, only to be shushed by Janet’s death glare. Janet continued, “The ringleader, James Carroll, crept into the darkened house…alone…and handcuffed sleeping Thomas Donnelly. James Sr. was awakened by the intrusion and eventually Johanna and Bridget came downstairs to see what the ruckus was. When Carroll signaled, his men burst through the front door, piercing Tom with a pitchfork, and pulverizing him with shovels… James and Johanna were bludgeoned and trampled by the drunken invaders… Bridget ran screaming for the stairs but was ruthlessly hunted and viciously slaughtered… The oil from the family’s lanterns provided the fuel the posse needed to burn the little farmhouse to the ground… Next, they headed to William Donnelly’s place, 3 miles away. The angry mob yelled repeatedly for Will to come outside. Will’s brother, John, was spending the night and opened the door to see what the commotion was. He was riddled with bullets as he stepped over the threshold. You see… Will survived the Donnelly massacre! The vigilantes thought they had killed William, but they shot John... Why do I have Will’s photograph? And Will’s pocket watch? I believe he will talk to us!” The swinging pocket watch in Janet’s right hand came to an abrupt stop. Christine grabbed Rory, hiding her pale face in his pea coat. “You did that,” snapped Donnie, “quit messing around Janet.” “This is real Donnie, so if you can’t handle it, you can leave,” snorted Janet. “I’ll go with you Donnie,” stuttered Christine, clutching tightly to his green bomber jacket, only to get ripped away by Janet’s outstretched arm. “Both of you need to sit the hell down or this isn’t going to work.”
Danielle Lenaghan SheetsPublished 3 years ago in HumansExcerpt on Fate
Fate is a funny thing. It pairs with misery with fortune and hope with coincidence, while it lays the tracks for the determinism express. Was it fate or cruel coincidence that as the moon of Sofra was plummeting into its gravity well, and the not yet spacefaring civilization of Sofrites were facing their extinction, that several newly minted Gar-a-bone transport ships were being towed to pick up fresh colonists meant for the Broch-Gar system only two days away? The date on the manifest for the transport ships was printed nearly two years prior to any plans by the Sofrites to bomb their own moon.
The Hooded ManPublished 3 years ago in HumansIf necessity is the mother of invention, then creativity is it's grandmother!
When we first moved into our house, the master bedroom was only being used for storage. The door was missing a panel, so we covered it with a framed picture, put a piece of furniture in front of the door and pretended the room didn't exist. Last week, we decided we needed a larger room and moved into it. Now, I think we can all agree that a gaping hole in one's bedroom door is not desirable. You would have thought I hit the lottery when I found the panel on the top shelf in the closet. The problem, it was in three pieces. I was able to glue it back together and found it would, in fact, fit back into the door. I did have to question just how well it would hold up, from day to day use.
L.A. CumminsPublished 3 years ago in HumansI Introduce to you "The Rubber Lady"
I've been many different people throughout my life, but no other personality is more memorable then "The Rubber Lady". From 1985 to 1994, I embarked on a journey. There are many stories, way more then I can begin to tell in just this one page. So, I've been asking myself, how the heck do I even explain The Rubber Lady? Well, it helps that I have a lot of photographs. The Rubber Lady had a way of attracting photographers, from students to professionals. All photos are my property and include photo credits.
L.A. CumminsPublished 3 years ago in Humans