Jacques Humanité

Author on Reedsy Prompts since May, 2020

Stories (7)

7 Stories

146 karma pts

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“The End Destination of the Dying Old Man” by Jacques Humanité

The canter of hooves sounded thin against the quiet of the pleached alley. Shafts of moonlight spilled through the branches and the preternatural chill of a midsummer night deepened until his breath frosted against the air. Both ends of the alley disappeared into darkness, and the monotony of it all was only broken by the occasional rustle of something in the underbrush.The old man, bent over the saddle pommel, battled sleep. His eyes drifted closed from time to time and his grasp on the reins loosened, but just before he slipped deep into s...

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“The Children” by Jacques Humanité

“Listen, the children weep for their parents” His voice was dripping with joy, and horror wound through every inch of my body. The children were strapped to cold, metal chairs, weeping with eyes that looked at us pleadingly. Their muffled pleas beat against my ears in agonizing pathos. The chrome, bowl-shaped helmets placed over their heads buzzed like an army of defective lightbulbs. Or rather, a swarm of flies. And the transparent tubes attaching the helmets to the ceiling glowed the colours of the rainbow, an incongruity that heightened ...

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“Ave Memoria” by Jacques Humanité

Submitted to Contest #75

When I wake from time to time in that dark room, I see the figure sitting by my bed with its head bowed, its elbows on my thighs as it holds a small, silver cross aloft in the pale light shining from somewhere above. “God bless you, God bless you…” Whispers the Thing in a faint, wavering voice. “God bless you, and God keep you.”Following the little prayer, I drift back into the realm between sleep and waking, drifting along ocean tides until at some point a faint light shines once again, but this time it drifts across my vison and then disap...

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“A Fool and his Lord” by Jacques Humanité

Submitted to Contest #66

“It doesn’t count if you’re already planning on defeat.” But Takeshi would not stop crying. His chocked sobs were drowned in the faint stirring of autumn leaves. The wooden katana dangled in his trembling grip, and pain flared across the back of his hand where Nagawa-sama had struck, unrelenting and much unlike the boy he had come to know. Takeshi regarded his young Lord’s katana and found a vein of blood running along the edge, where it dripped onto the leaves below. His eyes trailed upwards, but stopped and would go no further. He could n...

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“Manse Dracule” by Jacques Humanité

⭐️ Shortlisted for Contest #64

He stood with wine in hand, for hours regarding that portrait hanging above the hearth. The light and shadow rippling across the study as the fire danced bent the face painted in dozens of variations, some kind, some stern, some emotionless, and one that would appear only as the light waned and darkness descended: a monster. He set the glass down and made his way along the winding cobble corridors of Manse Dracule. He passed his family’s banners hanging along the walls, and empty rooms from which the firelight of hearths kindled by phantoms ...

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“When the Lights Come On” by Jacques Humanité

Submitted to Contest #58

Black and red glinted across the darkened town. Sirens wailed through the night quiet, and as more joined the fray, it was apparent that something terrible had happened.In the span of an hour, the small beams of flashlights broke through alley-mouths and glided along the outskirts of town like the workings of a bee-colony.François lit a cigarette. He was seated on a bench beneath a tree overlooking Vanquios. The warm smoke steadied his trembling fingers and calmed his heart. He leaned against the bench and closed his eyes. Even in the autumn...

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“The Treehouse” by Jacques Humanité

Submitted to Contest #50

Time had passed, yet some things stood still.The living room brought a mix of nostalgia and dread as he laid his eyes upon the stained carpet, worn sofas and little television in the corner with its bent antenna.Clothing that had once belonged to him, little blue and white, led in a trail to the equally little shirts and skirts lying in a heap by the coffee table. Crowned atop it was but another thing that had loved her, and was punished for it.Jake knelt and grabbed the teddy bear. He swallowed hard as his fingers brushed against the pink, ...

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Author bio

My name is Jacques Humanité. I study English at the University of Paris, with the ultimate goal to one day write a whole novel in the language. My love of stories begins from long afternoons in the French countryside: along the grapevines of mother's vineyard, and in my little bedroom window looking out at the Alps, upon the flowerbed of roses in the backyard, along meadows dotted with cottages and kindly neighbours. My love of writing begins in the trams travelling through the small town of Aosta, Italy, late at night, trying to fend-off with words the memory of a girl that would not leave my mind. She worked her way to my heart. And it was with the poems I wrote that I won hers. We are married now. These memories in hindsight feel like a dream. Unreal. It does not matter. Real or unreal has never made a difference to me; the world of fiction has stirred me in ways that reality has yet to match. These memories, and this love, shape me and my writing to this day. I have no doubt they always will. I hope you enjoy reading my stories as much as I enjoyed writing them. Yours, Jacques Humanité

Shortlisted 1 story ⭐️

Contest #64

Manse Dracule – read story