Aaron Richmond
Bio
I get bored and I write things. Sometimes they're good. Sometimes they're bad. Mostly they're things.
Stories (100)
Filter by community
Altar of the Uncrowned King
The wind howled through the narrow streets of the village, a chorus of lost souls tugging at the edges of my cloak in their search for answers. They always want something. Their voices, endless and ancient, buzzed in my mind, each one a faint echo of the lives I’ve outlived. My cloak fluttered behind me, snapping in the storm as I passed the crumbling walls. The stone was old, like me, older than the village itself. It knew things. It had seen things. It had seen us, once.
By Aaron Richmondabout a year ago in Fiction
How Cookies Are Made
The factory had always been there, tucked deep within the forest; a place most people pretended didn’t exist. I was little more than a sprout when I first arrived, fresh and naive, unaware of the invisible threads that already bound me within its walls. The trees cast wrought iron shadows over the pathway leading deeper into the woods, each bend and twist leading me deeper towards an angelic aroma. Before long I saw it: the factory.
By Aaron Richmondabout a year ago in Horror
Wacker
It was one of those mornings on Wacker Drive where the city felt wrapped in a cold, wet blanket. Fog clung to the high-rises, mixing with exhaust fumes and stale cigarettes, glowing eerily. I’d been camped on this corner long enough to know that in Chicago, hope was a luxury, and the weather wasn’t giving out favors. At least I had a warm coat to keep me from thinking about how I couldn’t feel my feet. The city was waking up, people hurrying by, heads down, avoiding my eyes.
By Aaron Richmondabout a year ago in Psyche
The NeuralNet
The acrid scent of burnt circuits hit me as I crumpled to the lab floor. My neural enhancement, years of obsession, was sparking wildly. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to happen,” I muttered, my thoughts a chaotic blur, memories and sensations crashing over me.
By Aaron Richmondabout a year ago in Fiction
A Long Walk. Runner-up in Overboard Challenge. Top Story - July 2024.
I raise my head to the sky, letting the sun beat down on my face. My skin is burnt and blistered from weeks adrift without shelter, but I don't care. The sun is warm, and I am alive—that's all I need to know.
By Aaron Richmondabout a year ago in Fiction
Always the Student
“Today. Tomorrow. Yesterday.” The words of my professor reverberate through my skull, a narrator on my commute back home. “The days tarry along as we pursue our hopes for better and best. The Drums of Everafter beat a steady rhythm, the outcome of the ballet based upon how we play the part. Each step taken, whether of dreams or sustenance, pushes us beyond our stated bounds. Only one fate comes to those who settle for room and food, same as those who seek to rouse the boards of Forevermore.” A sharp tap on the blackboard of the classroom punctuates the rhythm. A snore from somewhere rouses me from my slumber.
By Aaron Richmond2 years ago in Fiction
The Western Town
Gladdenthorpe rests just off the Coast Of Dickenshire, between Lindenquelle and Lorfendunn. This suited the citizens of Gladdenthorpe quite well. I suppose you could say they were glad about the situation, although the Truth is perhaps much murkier.
By Aaron Richmond2 years ago in Fiction
60 Seconds With Sarah
Tick. Tock. The clock struck midnight, its chime reverberating through the stillness of Sarah's grandfather's house like an ominous bell tolling in the night. Sarah lay frozen in her bed, her eyes wide open, heart pounding against her ribs as if trying to escape the confines of her chest. Each beat echoed louder than the last, drowning out the rhythmic ticking of the old mantle clock that had always been a familiar presence in the house. But tonight, that ticking seemed to mock her, a sinister accompaniment to the foreboding silence.
By Aaron Richmond2 years ago in Fiction
