humor
"Humor is what binds humans together and makes difficult times just a little less painful; Sometimes you can't help but laugh. "
The Little black Book
The little black book had been in her family for generations. Every year, the bearer of this book would open it on it’s birthday and read the new prophecy. It was Eva’s turn to read the book. You never knew what the book would announce: war, marriage, death. Sometimes it would be good news, sometimes terrible. This year Eva prayed it would be some kind of clues to get money: surprised inheritance, the PowerBall numbers, anything would do. She was broke like she had never been before!
By Elodie Massa5 years ago in Humans
The Little Ram
I like signs that point out restaurants at the next exit after you’ve been driving for hours looking for something other than McDonald’s. I like signs of warning, especially the ones for spicy foods. There’s nothing worse than taking a long-awaited bite of a new Chinese dish and you missed the four little red peppers next to it on the menu.
By Jess Osborne5 years ago in Humans
Butter
I’d like to say I hadn’t pictured my life going like this but, honestly, it’s pretty damn close. Peaches and I grew up in the boons where kids threw rocks at windows or stole hood ornaments off cars for something to do. Thinking back now, it was stupid to expect anything else from that crap hole town.
By Janet Macpherson5 years ago in Humans
The Will to Aggravate
It’s not every morning that I wake up angry. It’s not because my aunt died - I hated her. She was the bane of everyone’s existence, making us miserable from the moment she woke up till the moment she went to sleep. The woman was obnoxious, selfish and rude, not to mention a proud racist and homophobe. No, I was angry because she had apparently put me in her will, and I was to report to her attorney’s office promptly at 9 a.m. to hear him read it.
By Krista Golden5 years ago in Humans
When Anita Met Charles
Anita Harris had finally had enough. Her shirt stuck to her skin as she uselessly flapped her hand around her face. It had been stupidly hot all day and she was still suffering. Did she smell? God, she hoped she didn’t. Her nose twitched as she inhaled deeply but any scent of hers was masked by the overwhelming mix of dust, engine oil and musk that was the London underground.
By Zarah Andre5 years ago in Humans
A Leo Like No Other
I have never put much faith in Astrology. Well that is to say as far as who is compatible with whom. I feel as though even if you have stronger personality traits leaning one way or another should not decide your fate. If you want something to work, you must believe it will, and work to make sure it will. I guess in saying this it leads me to my next point I was born at the end of July, making my star sign a Leo. I do posses many of the traits of this fire sign. Anyone that knows me may even tell you that I am your typical Leo. For the most part I would predominantly agree with that.
By Carolyn Leonelli5 years ago in Humans
I am Cancer
I am Cancer. Hear me… cry myself to sleep at night. If you ever come across a description of Cancerians that doesn’t begin with ‘sensitive and emotional’, please send it my way, for the novelty value. When people ask me what my sign is at parties, I try to make a joke of it. I always reply: “Cancer, the emotional wreck of the zodiac.” If they know anything about astrology, they usually nod, and say: “Yeah.”
By Lorelei Russell5 years ago in Humans
An Open Letter To My Lovely (if somewhat ancient) Neighbors
Dear F & G, who both live in the flat downstairs, I hope you’re keeping well. I’m basically writing to let you know that you are genuinely very nice neighbors, and although due to COVID-19 we have only seen each other through the window, or over the yard wall for about a year, I would also like to express my eternal gratitude that you are a massive improvement on “the ones that came before”.
By The Duffers Diary5 years ago in Humans
The Betty St. James Scholarship for Moderate to Severe Sleep Walkers and Talkers
Ever since we were kids, Imogen has kept a little notebook of Big Secrets. I don’t know how she does it, walking around with all that highly classified information in her backpack. Imagine if she left it on the bus, or dropped it in the hall, or got mugged by someone who decided to read its contents at an open mic. (Imogen says this last scenario is “unlikely.”) I don’t know. The anxiety alone would kill me.
By Kefira Berlin5 years ago in Humans
Unbound
Snowflakes twinkled in the soft morning light, drifting slowly through the air. Not to land on the concrete sidewalks, nor the muddied patches of grass that adorned them; instead, they found their resting place on a small black leather-bound notebook. Countless students, walking through the back neighbourhoods on their way to university, passed over, on and around the book. Not a single one determined it to be of any worth and simply continued along their predestined path towards their schooling.
By Griffen Helm5 years ago in Humans
