Jehan put his hand to his forehead. Yes, those bells were contributing to the painful ringing that clouded his mind. It filled him with rage.
Category: writing (Page 1 of 5)
He turned from the valley and made his way toward the trees. The tip of his large sword slipped down, beneath the plate armour attached to the outside of his pack, nearly scraping on the ground. The sloping plain lead him to the trees, making the valley behind appear like a great scar carved out of a rolling hill on its way to the mountains.
He knew scars.
She startled awake from a terrific clap of thunder, from a dream of being dragged into an abyss, a bottomless deep, devoid of light, where a merciless presence dragged her down with tentacled indifference
And how this snow-filled thing moved, how to describe that? It did not walk, but instead seemed to blink and flash: now to the left a metre, now forward half that. Now back a blink, then forward even further, making erratic but constant progress towards the figure on the ground behind her.
No, no, don’t do that. Salt the earth and turn away, Klingon-style, arms inveigh. Even as a cautionary tale I am fail. Put no marker on my grave. Like a pop song on the radio Let me fade to black, until Some engineer flips that switch to still. I have no things to teach, No […]
meadow green flower sweattoothache blue dome radiationforever chemical fetus giftspreading maggot tree line stench lazy fly snap-dragon endingflower babies floating windlessdamp earth haploid-diploid warrain smell future darkening daylight inertia methane hydrate escape-artpermafrostless house left leaningstarved white bear drowning ice-lesswrithing wildfire running out of trees what could have been faded memoryriver water long-since ambled pastslack-skin cardboard […]
tales of loneliness and isolation The last few years have separated people, physically and mentally. This isolation has not been healthy. Human beings are social creatures. Even so, many people were lonely or isolated long before the pandemic. My writing, despite itself, constantly toys with experiences of isolation, be it a physical separation from others, […]
while dowhile continue
Henry glanced one last time at the broken body in the ruins of the ship. “I’m sorry,” he said, having no idea how he should feel, or what he should say.
There were no takers. Those who carried stones, stones meant to bash in a woman’s skull for their grim pleasure, dropped them to the ground.