It came from the East. It's shape killed the sun, murdering it with it's impossible height. It's shadow bled out over the land, seeping over it like a black sea bloated and overflowing. There was no time to react. It appeared as fast as a summer storm, and then it was upon the world, it's feet striking the ground like bolts of lightning and it's groans rumbling in the sky like thunder. It washed away the land that we knew, destroying not just the buildings and roadways and s
Duncan was blind without his glasses, or at least that's how he felt. 20/10000 is what he told his friends his vision was when they asked why he held his phone so close to his eyes in the morning before he eventually got around to putting on his lenses. They would laugh at him and asked if he could even see, and he would laugh back and say something like, "What do I need to see for? So I can look at your ugly mugs?" That usually ended the banter, and the questions, which was
I wanted a new life so I made one Or at least I tried. I plucked the fat bits out of the fables, The ones too juicy to ignore, What about the meaty ones? The ones stringy, tough, and a nightmare to those without the right teeth? Those ones I took from my parents. And the bones, hell, dig a foot beneath any ground and you'll find a trove of them White and shiny like elder worms too old to move anymore. The whole world is full of them. So I took a bit of those ones, and bits o
Thedune stood upon the broken ground of the Havocked Valley and looked over the heaps of stones that lay strewn upon the slopes to either side of him. They're boulders yet they look like pebbles tossed by a child in some game. He couldn't imagine how many of those same rocks had been pounded into dust beneath him by the feet of the Walker, the great giant who paced the world. He looked down the valley, the trampled path made by the giant's footsteps, and into the hazy distan
The old man leaned across the table, the lone candle flickering in the eyes of the two boys like reflections in milky mirrors. "Do you hear it?" said the old man. And the two boys could. Through the windows, traveling across the meadow, down the road, over the fence, crossing impossible miles to find their ears. A whining. A whimpering wind. A sound of great sadness mounting the dark night outside the hut and riding it straight under their skins. "What is it?" said the old
Like most writers, I find myself having strange thoughts throughout the day. Some of these thoughts I wrap into plots of future stories, some aren't that good and I forget about them moments after they occur. But then there are the others, the ones that are both weird and slippery and can't seem to find a home in any story, but are too fun to think about to ignore. So I toss them into the back of my mind, hoping they'll mature and develop into useable bits down the road.