I like light. I like the beauty of it, and the way it brings beauty to other things. There is no day more pleasant to me than a cool day, with a gentle breeze, where the sun shines down unhindered onto green grass, giving it a vividness it would never know by itself. Today, on … Continue reading Light
Category: Non-Fiction
Wallet
There is a wallet sitting by my bedside. I bought it online. I thought that it looked nice. It is made of wood: a curiosity. Every other wallet I’ve owned is made of leather, or an imitation thereof. I was drawn to this wallet because of the novelty, and also because I like things that … Continue reading Wallet
Author’s Reflection
Every once in a while, on days like today when I either can't think of something to write, or I know what I want to write but it's not coming out easily or the way I want to see it happen, I take some time to look back over things I've already written. I'm usually … Continue reading Author’s Reflection
Barrier-Fog
Sometimes, there is a barrier-fog in my brain. It frustrates me, because it lets me see what I want to work on. Everything is blurred and refracted, but I still know it’s there; I have a concept of what my goal is, even though the barrier-fog makes it hard to see clearly. Sometimes the goal … Continue reading Barrier-Fog
Lore
“I have requested this audience because I believe that I can be of service.” King Avold stared down at the young man from the dais on which his throne perched. The boy, if he could be called that, had not so much requested the audience as demanded it. King Avold’s underlings had been afraid to … Continue reading Lore
Corpse
There is a corpse in my yard, splayed across the grass. In a way, it is beautiful, the way its limbs twist around one another, twined together in death in a way they never touched in life. In death I can see its bright insides, shining out like a beacon calling for aid, for respite … Continue reading Corpse
Mr. Scary
I saw him everywhere, when I was younger. It’s strange, because I have such vivid memories of him — of actually seeing him, outside my window, or in the night as I rode in the car. The memories I have of him are just as real as my memories of throwing toy pteranodons in the … Continue reading Mr. Scary
