Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Humans.
A midsummer encounter
She was eyeing his notebook from the bench across the main cross walk in Central Park. The curiosity was burning within to find out what the subject matter was. Just who inspired whatever was being penned down onto the opposite side of the cover so fervently. It took all that was in her not to make her way over to take a peek. Curiosity was further kindled for he kept gazing toward her direction every couple of minutes or so, followed by a deep dive back onto the page.
Melinda HorvathPublished 3 years ago in HumansLibra
Libra Let’s start with our supposed strength. Number 1 is Cooperative, and I am very cooperative as long as everyone is willing to do things exactly as I want them. Number 2 diplomatic, oh, that is me to a tee, that’s why I can’t understand why I’ve been fired so much. I mean, on my last job, I am pretty sure that I told my boss he was the biggest idiot I had ever met. After he had turned down an 11,000,000.00 investor that I lined up for him, oh boy, was I diplomatic. I used no foul language when I informed him that with another brain, he’d be a halfwit Number 3. Libras are gracious; I can be every other Sunday as long as there is a bottle of Medoc around. 4.Fair-minded, I want to be fair, but life and GOP don’t give you a lot of slack on that one. Social – Sure, as long as everyone leaves me the f**k alone. So, Let’s hear it for my strong points. Hoora----y!
Michael Lee TuckerPublished 3 years ago in HumansLike a Fool
I sat in the parking lot behind the historic red building that housed a small room on the top floor I was allowed to use as an office.
My Sweets
Where are the candles? 9 but-soon-to-be-10 year old Heidi Barnes was confused, and not pleased. Finally, she could have two giant numbers on her cake.
Oriana LadaPublished 3 years ago in HumansBig Imaginations
James turned 11 today, he had been in the orphanage for years now and the monotonous routine was normal for him, but there was one day a year where it was different. His birthday was his special day because this was the only day of the year, besides Christmas, where he received anything. He had hardly been able to sleep at all last night because he was too excited. He was wishing for coloured pencils this year; he had seen them advertised in a shop window and asked the Orphanage Master, Mister Tembley, if he could have them for his birthday with only a “perhaps” as an answer. Perhaps wasn’t a no.
Chelcie MorrisPublished 3 years ago in HumansA Fountain Pen and A Little Black Book
A death deserves a wake. People dressed in black, the color of the little notebook in which her name was written in blue ink. Fountain pens were such an old thing. It was strange that her husband used them. They always seemed so messy to her. There would be a spot on his desk for them, however, in a house they planned to buy. A house that would be their own when they had the money. No more shoddy heating, no more pot smokers in the dirty hallways that smelled of urine. New York City apartments were tough. Especially the pre-war ones in Washington Heights. They lived in an apartment building right off the 1 train station on Dyckman. It was a stone’s throw from the Bronx. There was no land, she could not grow her own vegetables. There was no room for a writing desk for him. It was such a shame, because he started college again two years ago, after having dropped out ten years before that. He wanted to be a fiction writer. Fantasy fiction, to be exact. He loved the world of magic and dragons, of elves and mages. And his writing had gotten exponentially better in the last two years. She was never sure that they would have the money to buy that house, though. Not on the combined pay of a security guard and a nurse. Both overworked and underpaid.
Karthika ParvathyPublished 3 years ago in HumansAS FATE WOULD HAVE IT
If there was one thing about the pandemic that Jewell appreciated, it was the ability to work from home. Although she loved her job, the commute was horrible and she hated driving in the traffic, but she hated even more the thought of public transportation or worse, taxi cabs. She had tried walking because it was not much more than a mile, but one time pushing through the mob with no way to avoid contact had been enough. She shuddered just recalling it. She was from a small town in southern Iowa, where you might have some traffic weekday mornings, and you will meet very few people walking anywhere. Except for the mall walkers, which is why she’d stopped going there.
Terri RuleyPublished 3 years ago in HumansA Man's Voice
He was starting to sweat. Shining, though black like the fertile earth of a farm, his garments billowing… decorations flashing, with gourds shackled to his feet, and baring crooked teeth at the world, he seemed to smile and scream at the same time. His brow was furrowed like bark, his feet bare, ashy, looking like roughly shaped stone. The music rained down on me, as if a torrent from all sides--no, rather--a tsunami. Not evil nor good, just an exhibition of terrible beauty and strength that only Mother Earth herself can tend to accomplish.
Grey FreemanPublished 3 years ago in Humansauctor vitae
There are always a million different alternatives, pathways, things said and left unsaid. A million routes for a million journeys, each co-existing in this peculiar thing called life.
Knowing Notebook
“Where’s my turned over money truck?” Miguel thought. Everyday he went to work came back home. Got his weekly paycheck, paid bills and repeat. It seemed to be the same thing week end and week out. Never a new chance, never a change, never a break.
Ta'Shumbria MillerPublished 3 years ago in HumansA Piece of Home
One thing I’ve learned in my 35 years is that home isn’t always a singular place, not really anyway. My belief is that it’s pieces of us scattered everywhere along our journey. The places and people, the moments frozen in our memories that captured pieces of our hearts, our souls. Those who bring solace by just residing in their presence. My heart ached for that peace more than ever before and fluttered in anticipation as the drive grew closer to a piece of my home. The elation dimmed by the devastation of knowing that while the place would still be an incomparable comfort, the people had passed. It had been a year of chaos and tragedy, ending with the unexpected loss of my grandparents. The small town of Barre, VT, would always hold some of my most cherished memories but never again would they be shared with those I held so dear. A sense of belonging rushed through me as I pulled uphill into the familiar dirt driveway shaded by towering pines; it was all so bittersweet. The tears betrayed my strong facade, streaming uncontrollably down my cheeks. I let them fall and gave into a loud, deep scream, allowing all the built up pain to escape. There was land for miles, wide open fields and dense forests to drown out the volume of my emotions and allow my soul to breathe once again.
Michelle HarperPublished 3 years ago in HumansTHE BED, THE BOOK & THE MONEY
Anna lived in her own little world, unbothered by the tests of life’s theories on survival. She was a gentle sixteen, a blithe blossom that was doted upon by her mother, Phillis Paige, and her grandmother, Janny Wilkinson. These women were inventive, leaders of themselves despite hardships in life. Neither of them finished high school. Their underprivileged, religious upbringing, shaded by domestic abuse, helped in shaping their motives to consciously fostered the insulated environment that Anna had become used to. Together, they created a successful cleaning business, Wilkinson & Paige. They were the ones to call when you moved, or someone died, and you needed the place cleared and cleaned. For them, the job was exciting and rewarding, even though it had its challenges. They never knew what to expect from each client. Sometimes they would hire extra help to get the work done, and as an unwritten rule, they got to keep whatever was left behind and made extra money by selling items that were in good condition. The most rewarding part of the job for them was being able to work together for themselves. Phillis and Janny were like best friends. Anna admired their loving relationship and was proud to be raised by such strong, caring women. Phillis and Janny considered all the time and money spent on academic tutors, piano and ballet lessons and other frills in life, a worthwhile investment in making sure that Annabelle Janny Paige symbolized what they couldn’t be.
Jasmin UglowPublished 3 years ago in Humans