A. Tonymous Raign
Bio
Writer based in Melbourne, Australia.
"If you only read the books that everyone else is reading, you can only think what everyone else is thinking" ~ Norwegian Wood
Stories (5)
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Feathered Heart
She ran into the bedroom, laughing, the curls of her hair bobbing up and down like loaded springs. She looked like some kind of goddess from an ancient time, a mystical girl from a dreamland. I could feel how much I loved her, as if she were an important heirloom, a prized possession. My prized possession. But I also felt undeserving, and it still feels so unreal that I’m with Anu. I’d been blessed with certain attributes that always put me above the rest. Good looks, a good physique, and a natural affinity for sports, yet all those things felt like a stroke of unfair luck. You can’t acquire looks through hard work. Sometimes I feel like I’m living in an ancient time, born into royalty, unfair to the people who don’t possess a similar genetic lineage. But that’s just the way it is. Who am I to say otherwise? I'm a part of the blessed tier. With all the evolution that’s occurred over the course of humankind, it seems we’ve never been able to evolve out of this sense of born social hierarchy. It’s been pressed in like glue, an unchangeable code in the human DNA, the idea of some being born higher up on the social ladder than others.
By A. Tonymous Raign4 years ago in Fiction
The Ideals of Freedom
Marcellus and Rolen were standing at the railing of a glass deck with an overlooking view of the entire Capital. Skyscrapers in amongst small havens of green fields brushed with trees and flowers, like an ethereal painting, the perfect synchronicity of nature and nurture. Right in the middle of the lush land stood a lone tree, as tall as the buildings that surrounded it. Marcellus knew that tree. It was called the Divine Tree. It looked like a Chanticleer pear tree stuck between Autumn and Spring, the foliage ranging from pockets of red, to blooming flowers of white. The Tree had been planted after the Chinetic War as a spirit grave for all the soldiers that’d lost their lives. It was said that all the collective bodies had been buried at its base, their collective Chi flowing throughout the Divine Tree, bearing spiritual fruit. The shape of the fruit resembled a pear, except for the colour being a strange milk-like opaqueness. Nobody ever ate from the tree. It was considered a holy monument.
By A. Tonymous Raign4 years ago in Humans
The Uncorked Dalmore
“Is he still coming this way?” Mary and Steven were staring out the window at the roaring blizzard beyond the frosted glass. It was almost impossible to make out anything past the landing of the steps outside the front door, the white dust hazing the air so that only the black figure was visible, contrasted against the white.
By A. Tonymous Raign4 years ago in Fiction
A Vacant Green
It’s strange how life can be intertwined, twisted and curled as if circling in on itself, like an infinity symbol. I had no idea at the time how much the boy in the forest was going to mean to me. How much he already meant to me. A strange, fated significance. He was my best friend. My only friend. But he was much more than that.
By A. Tonymous Raign4 years ago in Fiction
