Clint James
Bio
Writing from dreams
Stories (4)
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Mr. Odoratore
Saturday had finally arrived, erupting with the clamor and volume befitting a house of four excited boys under the age of 10. Two of the four boys had risen with the sun and donned mismatched Halloween outfits. Micah, who was seven, helped dress the youngest, Barry, who was four, and together they entered mom and dads still-dark room, revealing themselves first to their groggy mother, who upon making out their shadowy figures; bathed in the yellow light of the hallway through the cracked bedroom door, said something properly motherly and encouraging.
By Clint James5 years ago in Fiction
The Gift of the Unborn
On the brink of some undefinable moment, on the banks of the Outer Curl, Neu Scoutsland, before a small audience of villagers, Hugh Reãl commanded his rare & beautiful calf to once again perform its magical act; and, as all subservient creatures must when they are instructed by invocations & demands, the calf obliged.
By Clint James5 years ago in Fiction
Igwe Ahu
“Look here, my precious sons.” An almond-shaded man adorning a headdress rich in the many brilliant feathers of the native macaw’s beckoned his twin sons over as he rested upon the trunk of a fallen Sharinga tree. The omnipresent sounds of the jungle's beating heart steadily pulsed as Rayhendry, the chief of the untouched Adayeba tribe, held out his clasped palm as his sons looked at one another in awed anticipation.
By Clint James5 years ago in Fiction
