Altum Veritas
Bio
Christ-follower, Writer, Story Teller. I'm passionate about creating stories that resonate emotionally and deeply, exploring the human experience in all its complexity through poetry and dark, gritty fiction. Come find the deeper truth.
Stories (29)
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Now Is Not Always. Runner-Up in The Metamorphosis of the Mind Challenge. Top Story - March 2025.
The world is so much softer today than when I was a kid. I take my three boys, two preschoolers and one toddler, to the park and I can’t help but chuckle to myself. Not only is the ground not covered with concrete or pea gravel, but it’s not even hard. Stepping on the artificial turf is almost like stepping on a springboard. All the playground equipment is softer too. What ever happened to polished steel slides and rough wood posts? When I was a kid, you left skin behind on the slide and if you didn’t come home with at least two splinters, you weren’t playing hard enough.
By Altum Veritas10 months ago in Psyche
A Peculiar Holiday Challenge
A Peculiar Holiday Groundhog Day might seem like a lighthearted tradition—waiting to see if a shadow foretells more winter—but there’s something inherently strange about it. A holiday built around a single moment, a single creature, and a single question holds endless possibilities for twists, turns, and surprises.
By Altum Veritasabout a year ago in Fiction
Automated Autonomy
The alarm going off in my head, rousing me from slumber, reminds me of the old GE digital alarm clock I had as a kid. I hated it then, and I hate it now. Maybe that’s why it's so effective. The steady, obnoxious EERNT! EERNT! EERNT! of the alarm, combined with the bright sunlight now glowing through my eyelids from the curtains being flung open, puts me in a bad mood before I can even get out of bed.
By Altum Veritasabout a year ago in Futurism
Jimmy And The White Rat. Content Warning.
Jimmy pedaled steadily down the quiet road, his old bike protesting with every turn of the wheels. The rusty chain ground with a low, metallic rattle, as if whispering complaints in time with his movements. Each push of his foot brought a faint squeak from somewhere on the left side. Most people would probably find this noisy bike unbearable, but it was either this or ride the bus every day, and he didn’t plan on ever doing that again. The last time he had, Donnie and Jake had pinned him down and taken turns spitting on him. Even if he had to walk three miles to and from school, he’d never set foot on another school bus.
By Altum Veritasabout a year ago in Fiction
Vapor
All of life exists In the tiny gap between Lightning and thunder
By Altum Veritasabout a year ago in Poets
Dear John
John Marston woke just as the first light of dawn shone through the dirty glass window of his small property on the outskirts of Escalera. He sat up and winced, his back stiff from sleeping on the thin straw mattress. You’d think after a lifetime of roaming, always on the run, he’d be used to this sort of thing by now. Truthfully, John was tired. These past few months had been some of the hardest of his life, and that’s saying something after all Dutch had put him through growing up.
By Altum Veritasabout a year ago in Fiction
Followed
“Looking good, Harley-girl,” Jacob says, doing his best Jared Leto impression. “Baby is makin’ Daddy proud tonight!” I’m almost too stunned to speak. Jacob is actually talking to me?! It takes everything I have not to let out a giddy little squeal. I had no idea he was so into Halloween. Most seniors were over the whole trick-or-treating thing. Not only is Jacob out canvassing the neighborhood, but he’s rocking the best Leto Joker cosplay I’ve ever seen. I decide to play along.
By Altum Veritasabout a year ago in Horror
Halloween Magic
It just wasn’t the same anymore. Even with her fantastic costume—a 19th-century schoolmistress outfit complete with an old, leather-bound book—Halloween just felt like it was starting to lose its magic. I wish Halloween was still fun, she thought.
By Altum Veritasabout a year ago in Horror
