Alexander Ray Williams
Bio
Trying to understand
Stories (7)
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Cooking With Ted in the Apocalypse
This story is Ted Unger’s, but you must be made aware of why our expedition detoured, rather than proceeding directly to Marina Del Rey. We would agree to Isabella’s request, and even Jonesy would join us, the poor mutt. I bore a reluctance to even share what had transpired between Isabella and I, considering my momentary breakdown and our argument, but two things were necessary to communicate to you, the reader, the first being the acceptance of Jonesy the mutt as our ward, and the second, the origin point for what would become a fatal northerly trek.
By Alexander Ray Williams4 years ago in Fiction
Cooking With Ted In The Apocalypse
I overslept. The mattress and clean sheets, heavy blanket, and security of this society lulled me into a slumber I was loath to wake from, though my eyes did open to a high sun sharing its light through the windows, cut in long beams by blinds. I laid, unburdened by an agenda of survival but swamped in luxurious bed dressings, and my body fought against rising and shedding the cloths, and with it, the illusion of safety.
By Alexander Ray Williams4 years ago in Fiction
Cooking With Ted in the Apocalypse
I do recall vividly the first time I saw him. It was passion made him sweat. A fire inside that desired nothing more than to engulf the earth, if only to prove it could. I do not just recall his tall and lean figure, nor the ferocity on his twisted face. A similar ferocity to the countenance encountered upon seeing him at his most demented. I recall many nights of observing his insanity and I bring them to my mind, some things enmired in fog, some things crisp as crystal or as sea water in exotic tropical climes.
By Alexander Ray Williams4 years ago in Fiction
There Weren't Always Dragons in the Valley
There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. By night’s end, there’d be dragons no more. “I heard he won’t even sell the scales, or the horns, or whatever it is that fetches the highest price these days.” Langmir said, the words like thick swamp mist with how slowly they issued from his mouth and crawled over the low fire, filling the clearing in which we’d made camp for this leg of the conquest. He stared into the flames, eyes focused on a distant place only he could see. There was shame there, not evident to anyone but me, his best friend and loyal second-in-command. To everyone else, this was simply a statement.
By Alexander Ray Williams4 years ago in Fiction
