Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Humans.
Strangers
On the train alone at midnight, I found Johnny Brown’s notebook. It was underneath the seat across from mine, forgotten like a gum wrapper. I know you should never touch things on the subway, let alone on the grimy floor. But I felt compelled to at least see what it was.
Kelly AndersonPublished 3 years ago in HumansThe Hat Box
It was a cold and grey morning as Melody sat on the floor combing through her mother’s belongings. It had been a week since the funeral but it was all a blur. She couldn’t believe her mother was gone. There was still so much she wanted to say to her. She didn’t feel like she had enough time with her and just like that, she was no longer here to hug or hold or ask advise. She smelled her mother’s favorite blue blazer, the one that made her mom’s blue eyes sparkle. She was overcome with heartache and sadness. She sobbed into the pile of her mother’s clothes and let the unbearable feelings wash over her. She emerges only to take a breath. She looks over at her precious baby girl sleeping in her rocking swing. A Beethoven song plays and lulls baby Rose deeper and deeper into her sweet slumber. Melody takes a deep breath. Through teary eyes, she sees her mother’s flower hat box. She slowly pulls it closer. She knows her mother kept all of her most special memories in that antique keepsake. Melody opens the hat box and sees her mother’s tattered journal, her little black book. Her mother loved to write and had many journals throughout the years, but the little black book was special and contained all of her mother’s biggest hopes and dreams. Again Melody is overcome with sadness and she lets the tears flow and fall as she hugs her mother’s dream journal. She opens the journal and an envelope falls out. It has her name written on the front in her mother’s perfect cursive handwriting. She opens the envelope and there is a check for $20,000 dollars in it. Melody is shocked because all of her mother’s savings was spent on hospital bills. She reads the note her mother wrote, she can hear her mother’s voice so clearly. “My dearest Melody, you are my greatest gift and my biggest accomplishment. I am so proud of the woman you’ve become. Your perseverance and positive attitude are such a strength in this world. But you are stubborn like I am, and you take care of everyone else and forget about yourself. So I need you to promise me that you will use this money to follow your dream and open a dance studio. Children need a safe place to dream big and know that their dreams matter. And your dreams matter. I’m sorry if I didn’t tell you that enough. Please tell my granddaughter her dreams are special and worthy of a life long pursuit. I am so proud of you my sweet Melody. I’ve admired you since the day you were born. I love you forever and always and beyond. Until we walk in heaven together, hand in hand, I’ll be watching over you and baby Rose. Love, mom.” Melody let’s out a cry and baby Rose wakes up. She picks up her precious baby girl and holds her tight. “We’re gonna be ok. We’re gonna be ok”.
Jenna FugaPublished 3 years ago in HumansSomething Remembered
She had slept in late again, and it was almost noon by the time she sat with a cup of coffee to sort through the morning’s mail. “More junk,” she said to herself, and put everything in the bin except a handwritten envelope she felt should probably be opened. Inside was a card and a cheque addressed to Mrs Sandy Hall for $20,000. Her eyes widened, but the shock was by now so familiar that it passed almost immediately. Still, this was a big one, and had come all the way from America. “Here’s another one Tiddles,” she said to the cat.
Nathan SherwoodPublished 3 years ago in HumansThe Last Page
You almost walk by it. Many probably had. After all, there’s not many who’ll pick up trash that isn’t theirs, even fewer still that would leave the nature trail to do so. You wish you could have said it was good intentions that made you do it but, truthfully, it was curiosity. Plastic bags were, unfortunately, plentiful enough. This one, though, called to you. Maybe it was the way the freezer bag stiffly held itself or maybe it was the past autumn leaves that had been gathered and piled around and on top of it. Something about it lured you over, making you take a closer peek.
Ms. Annie NohnPublished 3 years ago in HumansThe Bucket List
“Jordan, it’s March 20th. You know what that means.” I sigh inwardly. I had been expecting this ever since the schedule came out.
Tim JosephPublished 3 years ago in HumansA dollar and a Dream
A Dollar and a Dream Chris is your average hard worker. Works two jobs to support his mom and siblings. Goes to work, plays basketball on the weekends and repeat. Really your average blue collar worker. Chris is the only person close to his grandmother in the family. Cut off for her streak of crime back in the day no one else would be bothered with her. So on one faithful night she passed and the family didn’t blink an eye. That is except Chris. Chris couldn’t eat, and called out of work two days in a row. He never missed a day in all his years at both jobs, which prompted coworkers assuming the worst to contact him all day. Chris told everyone he was just fine even though deep down he felt his heart breaking. He then receives a call, “hello Chris I was your grandmother’s lawyer, she didn’t have much but she left you her life savings. A little under $21,000.” Still sad Chris didn’t pay much mind to it. He worked so hard so he had barely any debt piled up. He went back to work and continued business as usual, starting to get in better spirits. He takes a picture of the cash he has and posts it on social media with the hashtag Ballin. Chris found it odd to have 100 likes in less than an hour as none of his other posts have even been close to that.
Kaleil WashingtonPublished 3 years ago in HumansFinders Keepers
Had I known, back then, where my discoveries would lead, I don’t know that I would have ever investigated any further. I would have thrown that damn book as far away as possible.
Follow Your Dream
The old school at the end of the cul-de-sac had stood empty for some time. No little feet ran through the gym, no laughter echoed in the classrooms, no smell of mildewing lunches in cubbies permeated the halls. It had been years since Bellshore Public had been a working elementary school. Now the vines grew across the outside of the old brick and cinder block walls. The windows were mostly all painted shut, and the doorways were covered with plywood, and some were chained with heavy iron locks. In the playground, the old play structures had weeds and shrubs growing around them, and were rusting from lack of care. Some of the walls had been tagged by local graffiti artists, and the concrete around the rest of the yard had heaved and buckled with time and the shifting earth underneath. The school was one of those buildings that had seemed to just always be there. The neighbors couldn’t remember a time before it was built, and now that it had withered with disuse, the community mainly pretended it wasn’t there -- an eyesore, but mostly an invisible one. Except for the urban explorers. They loved the school and all the antiquated items found inside. It made a perfect subject for their photography. They had found secret ways of getting inside, and once inside they skulked about snapping shots of torn basketball nets, piles of desks, mountains of old rotting textbooks, broken cubby hooks and just about anything else they could find that looked like “urbex art”. Seth Collins was one of these young urban explorers. Just shy of 22, and still living at home with his parents, he had taken a gap year to figure out what he wanted to do with his life, and while working shifts at a local photography shop, he discovered that what he loved was capturing a beautiful and original photograph.
Mandy Albania WeinerPublished 3 years ago in HumansLate for the Sky
We sat on the steps of Sharon's brownstone waiting for Maggie. We were driving up to Tanglewood for a concert, Jackson Browne. Sharon squinted into the sun, then put her forehead on her knees and sighed. “We're gonna be late,” she said.
Karen GoldsteinPublished 3 years ago in HumansThe Plan
“I know it’s in here somewhere,” Mina said as she slammed the kitchen drawers closed. She opened the pantry door, a place she knew to be futile searching grounds, and moved every container and box. Nothing. She returned to the kitchen and began opening drawers like a crazy woman once more.
Jenny ZunigaPublished 3 years ago in HumansIf It's Five Million
Michigan, 2019 I’m standing in my little blue kitchen cooking bacon, thinking of Stasia. Every time with bacon, Stasia comes to mind, because she first taught me. In Virginia, when we were teenagers. Her momma Ruth sitting to the side, eyes a little glazed but laughing deep. Ruth, she could laugh, and so much made her, even with all the sadness she carried. Stasia’s standing over the pan, gently flipping each piece, one by one. You know how a moment can happen and you don’t know then that you’ll come back to it, for the rest of your life? This – it’s that.
Lisa GordilloPublished 3 years ago in HumansMY FATHER, THE STRANGER
It started with a farm and it ended with a farm. Only the animals changed. Pigs became horses. Somewhere in the outskirts of London on an abandoned meadow, a sign sways quietly in the wind.
Björn ZahnPublished 3 years ago in Humans