Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Humans.
20/20
“I’m so tired.” I mean it when I say that. I could fall asleep standing here in Jen’s entrance way. This week has been hell and there are only a few minutes left to vent before my lunch break is over. “This whole week has been never-ending. Mom called about the dog passing, my car died on Tuesday, I don’t know when I’ll get it back from the shop, transit here is bullshit… That’s why I was late.”
Sydney ThiessonPublished 3 years ago in HumansDiscovery Lane
“Not every man has a purpose” he screamed cradling his eye in the palms of his hands. “Not every man has a purpose, I tell you!” dishevelled by the reminder that his 40th birthday was just a couple days away.
Melanie GarrettPublished 3 years ago in HumansFortune
The moonlight found one twisted shade, one uncovered corner of glass pane to shoot itself into. Late winter, pre-dawn, the 4 am frost thick and obscuring its gaze, sending it shattered, cascading in several directions at once. One beam caught Edmund's eye, but he was already awake, having completed his mandatory two hours of sleep for the night. He rubbed his palms down his face twice, (no more, no less) tossed the blanket aside, and rose in spite of the unnatural heaviness of his limbs. Some days felt heavier than others. He flipped on the lamp, but the glow of the moon alone had done a better job of lighting the room.
Tiffany StorrsPublished 3 years ago in HumansLegacy
A little time “I’m afraid it's terminal...” Lucas stared at the white wall, dread overcoming his being as he was forced to filter what the doctor had just told him. For a moment panic set in, and he faintly hoped that any minute now he would wake safe in his bed looking forward to yet another casual Sunday. However, This was not merely a nightmare. This was real life, and unfortunately he could not wake from reality. “How long?” He asked, not a shred of emotion gracing his tone. He was far to invested in the thoughts in his mind. The doctor did not frown nor falter as he answered him, a question he undoubtedly had had to answer before. “A year...Maybe more with treatment.”
Bluue DeLunePublished 3 years ago in HumansMoon Roof
The memorial took place the second weekend in March, although the actual anniversary fell on a Wednesday. Nine people showed up, which wasn’t a lot when you thought about how big Sonia’s circle had been. All the Beautiful People, the members of her art collective, her coop gallery, her classmates from Pratt — where were they?
Elizabeth GaffneyPublished 3 years ago in HumansHis Small Black Book
It was just a small black leather bound book but it fascinated her. The cover was soft and worn from years of handling, no longer stiff and shiny but certainly not a floppy book. The blackness was faded to a black-gray dullness that spoke of years of use. His hand had opened and closed it so many times, his handprint, though not visible, was apparent. She ran her hand over it; her eyes closed, and imagined her small hand in his. She paused, feeling the energy of him pulsing from the book to her hand and into her heart. She cried softly, knowing she would never hold his hand again. Knowing she would never feel his gentle caress on her face again.
Donnamarie BaldwinPublished 3 years ago in HumansThe Emerald Love
With trembling hands Noor started reading and translating, everyone in the room was holding their breath. 2nd November 1934, Lucknow
Rashminder HargisPublished 3 years ago in HumansSecond Thoughts
On the day Allan intended to kill himself, twenty-thousand dollars mysteriously appeared in his checking account. This irritated him, as he’d just spent the past three weeks deliberately squandering all his money on booze, drugs, and hookers, for the specific purpose of emptying his bank before he died. Having money was a reason to live, and he was tired of having reasons to live. The debauchery was meant to be his final ‘fuck it’.
Ink and the Impulsive
I’m not a sign. Not a template crafted by dreamers. I evolve. I change. I learn. Shy to some, outward to most, I leap more often first, enjoying the quickly earned spoils or analyzing the broken path in the dimmed light of hindsight. Uncertainty and self-criticism were once pillars, bookending every interaction, every thought, every movement. Now, they remain but no longer bear the load. I choose friends. Growing closer and further apart as time flows. I evolve.
Matthew AgnewPublished 3 years ago in HumansThe Loa
Desirae was born and raised in a small town in Louisiana just west of New Orleans called Bayou Gauche. Now this town isn't known for anything in particular, in fact, most people don't even know it exists at all. Like most of the community, Desirae spent all of her free time fishing. There were lots of great places to fish in Bayou Gauche, it was mostly water after all, but Desirae's favorite place was beneath a weeping willow by the oil well where her grandma Soria taught her to fish. It was in this spot that when Desirae was nine years old, she spotted a Loa swimming beneath the water. It was a catfish as big as Desirae herself, with flowing whiskers that reached past its tail fin. It swam to the surface of the water, shimmering gold in the sunlight for a few seconds before disappearing again into the dark depths. Grandma Soria explained to Desirae that a Loa is a spirit that oversees human interaction with the natural world and that praying to these Loas brings fortune and good health. Ever since that day, Desirae would beg her grandma to take her to that same willow so she could cast her line into the murky water in the hopes of finding fortune. She would pray for shiny gems, gold coins, and sweet candy, and even after two years of no luck, Desirae was determined to catch the Loa. She would run to her grandma's house every day after school, and the two of them would fish by the willow until the sun went down.
Elias EvansPublished 3 years ago in HumansMother's Book of LuvUs
Mother’s Book of Love Sitting in front of the Estate Lawyer of Glenn Harris, I wondered what could possibly of much value. My sister and I lived together sharing a small kitchenette, one bedroom apartment, but now as we sat in front of this attorney we seemed further apart.
Aqeedah Mujahid-GainesPublished 3 years ago in HumansSaved by the Page
“Remember, you have that interview in the morning", the old woman with sparkling blue eyes said to her husband. "I know, I'm almost done for the night..' the husband replied, he was hunched over a notebook, slowly writing letter after letter with a shaky, wrinkled hand. The Parkinson’s was getting worse, but he wouldn’t give up writing freehand just yet.