Most recently published stories in Humans.
The Sower's Web
Undisturbed by speech, utensils clang, and the deafening chewing of meatloaf rings throughout the dining room. “Is it okay if I go over to Josh’s house after school tomorrow?” asks Paufren.
Dear Martha My commitment is still touch and go mostly due to the occasional pandemic ennui. My kids and I do schoolwork, I do the dishes, I craft, I do little bits from your book, and fight the urge to binge watch procedural crime dramas. This week I continued to work on my entryway and my closet. I also baked that cake you suggested.
Just Walked Away
By the time the kettle sang, I was ready for my coffee. The mist was still clinging on to the valley and a way up the lower slopes of the hill among the pines. The fire was grown hot and we were in a little patch free of mist now, which parted as Debra nosed her way to my hand, bringing in a swirl with her.
My mysterious black book
Ian, 37, a full-time architect works so hard to fulfill his dreams with Laura, his long-time girlfriend. Although his schedule is so hectic, he would always make time for Laura like taking her out for dinner.
Tears For Tahlia
Her smile, the sun, and the flowers. I couldn’t stop thinking about how flawless she looked. The girl with short black hair and shining sea green eyes, mischievous intentions swirling behind them. She was so familiar, yet, so foreign. I knew her well, each expression, movement, all seen before. But now, it was like I was seeing a whole different person. Before, I hadn’t noticed how her hair framed her face so perfectly, or how she carried herself with such confidence. How can you know someone so well, but not at all?
Idiots Sacrifice Chapter 1 After the last low was pushed through, by a fast moving freight train of a high, the temperature dropped fifteen degrees and the wind blew out of the northwest with ice in its’ teeth. In Sacramento skiers following the weather forecasts were making plans for the next weekend and the ski areas of the Sierra Mountains were readying themselves for the weekend onslaught. On this day all of us around Lake Tahoe and along the Truckee River, all of us that lived along interstate eighty. Even those who lived west of Donner Summit climbed out of their warm beds and stared out of the frosted windows at a glorious morning of ice and snow. Outside, the freezing air attached itself to us and invaded our nostrils, eyes and ears. It numbed our feet and hands while it turned our breath into a vapor that flew off with the wind. The cold had been evaporating the moisture in the top layer of snow and by dawn it was light and fluffy, the kind of snow that, when groomed, squeaked under the skis. The local nucleus of skiers collected their gear and then converged on the numerous ski areas in and out of the basin. We were an ego rich group of hard- core skiers jumping further and higher, skiing steeper and faster. We lived anyway we could, some of us never knew where we would be sleeping but we knew where we would be skiing. The mid-week passes were our badges and symbolized our commitment to the sport. We were bums. Ski bums. For some it wasn’t a sport, it was a way of living. It was their life and they lived for days like this. The small mass of skiers were starving as they converged, hungry beyond words for light, cold powder. The sky was crystal clear and a brilliant blue that was a little darker than usual. The wind was a strong consistency that flapped the trailing ends of pack straps around our chests like small pennants. We wore tightly woven stocking caps that did little to protect our ears, and around our foreheads, like miners lanterns, we had fixed our goggles. Glove liners and gloves could not protect our hands and our feet froze in their tight, plastic ski boots. There was only one way to stay warm, constant motion; pole plants unweighting, carving, skating, bouncing down steep unpacked faces. Bounding and leaping off of projections covered in snow like logs, stumps, boulders and cornices helped pump the blood through our freezing bodies. On this cold winter day in January three friends met at their ski area of choice, Alpine Meadows. They skied south along the summit ridge, the highest point at Alpine, until they were above Round House. The bull wheel for Roundhouse was housed in a barn-like structure that rose eighty feet to the flat roof. The face of the ski run fell away from the eighty feet like a cliff. Above it, looking over the cornices, the four of them stood in silence, suffering the freezing wind and lost in their own thoughts as they gazed on the winding Alpine Meadows road as it worked its’ tortuous way to Highway eighty-nine and the Truckee River. While there, on the ridge, it was suggested that we should race down to the roof of Roundhouse, ski out the flat top of the roof and jump off. “I’ll do it,” said Mike, “but I won’t be first.”
Little Black Book
Little Black Book There are days when I quietly sit upon this bench gazing at nameless faces as they walk by. Starving for some sanity in the chaos of their random, yet predictable, movement, I watch their feet and their steps, searching for a rhythm or pattern, but I find none.
Coffee to Water Ratio Calculator: A Secret of a Perfect Cup
There is nothing worse than a bad cup of coffee early in the morning when all you need is that boost of energy. To make sure that’s avoided you need to estimate the right ratio of coffee to water. But who has the strength to do those calculations first thing after waking up?
For the Love of Men and Money
Madison stares aggressively at the young brunette bitch-barista who shamelessly and playfully poses for a handsome man with a camera. She comes to this café with the awful service every day for the same reason the bitch-barista was distracted- the beautiful Parisian men.
Plenty of Fish, OkCupid, Hinge, Bumble, Tinder. I’ve been on all the dating apps, including 3Fun and others for LGBTQIA+ and untraditional relationship structures. Despite the dating and experimentation, I’m still single after hitting the big 30 last summer.
Fate and Serendipity
Carrie stomped out of the apartment. It had been snowing for 3 days straight and the city had been essentially shut down. Which meant they were shut in. Now, on the 4th day, the skies had cleared, and she could get some damn air.
The Good Thief
It was a cold, rainy night as a young woman with short, brown hair as well as dark brown eyes gazed out at the falling rain. She could hear the people she called family cheering in the other room. She sighed as she continued gazing out the window. She thought about her past as she replayed the day she was adopted in her mind.