Showing posts from March, 2016

From Dry Sands to Orange Groves

This has been a while coming.

Most of the life I've lived has been in a small, dry, surprisingly crime ridden town near an equally run down, past-it's-prime hamlet called Victorville. The town itself, I'd rather not name; too many memories, not all of them good ones lurk down that rabbit hole. Why we came there to begin with, I can't rightly say. Why we left, that is far easier.

My grandmother, whom I was very close to, died a few years ago. The shock still grips me like a rabid dog every now and again---mostly when I try in vain to sleep. After that we stayed in the house which she lived her last years in, mostly because he had no other option. So you can imagine what it might have felt like to forever be reminded of the person you lost.

Everyday. On and on. Never changing. Never ending.

Those years were some of the hardest I've ever had to live. There's nothing I can do about any of that. Nothing that could change how those years dragged on and on. How they l…

Tales From Grimshaw - The Dying Man & the Guest. Part 1

This one's both abrupt and long winded. Proceed with caution.
I mostly wrote this little thing to do some fun dialogue and talk a little about the world. I can only hope you all can bare through it.

Thunder played in the skies above the old city of Grimshaw. Thick sheets of rain blanketed the streets like a death shroud, making the squat stone buildings that lined them only vague silhouettes in the cold. Men and woman rushed to their homes for shelter; a few drenched guardsmen stood grim and watchful, one hand holding a lantern whose dim light glowed wanly before them.
    Among the abandoned streets and flooded alleys of the old city stood the door of a decrepit flophouse, too leaky and filthy now to attract much custom save a few thieves and beggars that wander in from the street. The owner of this dismal establishment, one Malcolm Shanks Harlow,—M.S. to what little there still remained of his friends—sat in a torn armchair by the hearth, smoking a melange of drugs he…