Brandon Hall
Bio
Love writing, hate editing. I love world building, exploring possible futures through the medium of story, and view writing as the ultimate opportunity to share meaningful experiences and write run on sentences.
Stories (7)
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A Particular Night in Venice 5
"This fog is insane!!! Where the hell did it come from?? I can't see shit!"' A young man of barely 25, is struggling to navigate a bicycle in fog thick as cotton. The small electric headlight struggles to shine ahead of the bike. The rolling of the tires and crank of the chain are amplified in the damp air.
By Brandon Hall4 years ago in Fiction
A Particular Night in Venice pt. 4
Delilah and Gabriella walk arm in arm. She leans in, finding comfort in the Mother of Lost Souls embrace. Some Lost Souls still live, some reside in spirit form. Many are children that met tragic ends. The Mother watches over them all.
By Brandon Hall4 years ago in Fiction
Particular Night pt. 3
A single bulb with a visible glowing filament hung over a desk far too small for the man it hosted. A veritable giant in a fine white shirt with sleeves rolled up. He is looking through a giant ledger gently turning pages. Rows and columns of names and date ranges.
By Brandon Hall4 years ago in Fiction
One Particular Night In Venice Part 2
"Reverend Mist" the stately woman says in greeting. From pier side emerges a most odd figure. Humanlike with exaggerated features. Most notably an elongated chin and smile that climbs his cheekbones. Oh yeah, and he has wings. Delilah presses into the reverend as a child hiding behind a parent.
By Brandon Hall4 years ago in Fiction
The Wrong Reflection
Summers in northern Michigan can be unbearably humid. The variety of tiny creatures adds to the nightmare from all angles. The lightning bugs, the only heroes of these damp nights. They just fly around being beautiful. Imagine how self-reliant they must feel. Isn't that what we all truly wish for? To light our own paths with conviction?
By Brandon Hall4 years ago in Fiction
Red on Gray
“Is that something?” Dammit! I was hoping she didn’t see it. Of course she saw it! Everything is gray. Always fucking gray and chalky and dry!! The little flickers of sunlight peeking through ricochet off in every direction, failing in its attempts to add color or life to this shithole. Splashing against the depressing background of the ruins, illuminating misery. Yet just like all of us, still trying its best.
By Brandon Hall5 years ago in Fiction
