Bradley Ramsey
Bio
Lover of dogs, gaming, and long walks on the beach. Content Marketing Manager by day, aspiring writer by night. Alone, we cannot change the world, but we can create better ones.
Find me on Substack -> bradleyramsey.substack.com
Stories (101)
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Fate's Witness
“They were nothing more than men. Well, elves, I suppose,” Finton Merrybrook said, sipping from his chalice. The only reply the storyteller received was the crackling of logs in the nearby fire. His eyes followed the dancing shadows on the wall as he took another sip from his chalice, falling deeper into a peaceful stupor.
By Bradley Ramsey2 years ago in Fiction
The Unfathomable Beast of Xanadu-IV
I didn’t know it was possible to hate someone as much as I hated Freddie Montauk, the kingpin of the Darlucian Syndicate. He was an untouchable, irredeemable pile of sentient shit, but more than that, he was directly responsible for my wife’s death. Plenty of people had reasons to hate him, but mine was a special case.
By Bradley Ramsey2 years ago in Horror
Without Words
We agreed this would be the last time. I told you not to speak. It’s because I couldn’t stand the sound of your voice, but I would never tell you that. My back was facing you as you entered the hotel room. Our eyes locked in the mirror's reflection on the back wall. Your gaze softened. Mine did, too.
By Bradley Ramsey2 years ago in Filthy
The Architect's Nightmare
Edgar Allan Poe once referred to sleep as those “little slices of death.” He claimed to loathe them, and I tend to agree. There’s nothing quite like the sensation of being trapped inside your own mind, held down by invisible forces, and forced to watch yet another snuff film stitched together from the darkest corners of your psyche.
By Bradley Ramsey2 years ago in Horror
The Hunted
Note: The following story contains graphic sexual content for readers 18 and over. Arak sat poised upon a branch, taking the form of a falcon, hiding in the folds of shadow that dotted the forest canopy. His vision was sharp; his senses fine-tuned to one singular purpose: catching his prey.
By Bradley Ramsey2 years ago in Filthy
Crossing Over
Note: The following story contains graphic sexual content intended only for readers 18 and over. My world went from color to black and white after I lost her. It’s one thing to miss someone, to crave their presence, touch, or voice. It’s another thing to feel that so profoundly and know you’ll never experience it again. At least, that’s how it used to be.
By Bradley Ramsey2 years ago in Filthy
