A.R. Thomas

Joined February 2021

2 stories

Bio

Stories (2)

Filter by community

Sort by (Optional)

The Machine at the End of the World
Delicate flakes of white ash were falling on the Quiet City again. The snow of the apocalypse painted the streets in monochrome, but there hadn’t been much colour left to hide anyway. With the upper atmosphere in ruins, two centuries of solar radiation had bleached the City to greyscale years before the ash started falling.
By A.R. Thomas4 years ago in Fiction
The City, The Coffee, and The Book
It was raining one afternoon in a particular city where that sort of thing was always a welcome surprise. It seemed to suit the place surprisingly well.
By A.R. Thomas5 years ago in Humans