Danh Chantachak
Bio
I write short stories across all genres.
Sometimes I write stories based on prompts submitted by Instagram followers.
Send some inspo my way!
https://www.instagram.com/danhwritesfiction
Stories (15)
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The Trial
Fredrick stared in horror at the scene that lay before him. The king was sitting atop his throne, his face obscured by shadow. The light of a full moon filtered through the stained-glass windows behind him, illuminating the court in a ghostly white hue.
By Danh Chantachak8 months ago in Fiction
Lifeboat
The old man stared at me from the bow of the vessel, his cracked lips pulled downwards into a grimace underneath his filthy beard. The armpits of his undershirt were stained yellow with sweat. I could smell his stench; indeed, there was no escape from it. No way to avoid the rancid odor emanating from his every pore. My only solace was the fact that my own odor was likely to be as keen an assault on his senses as his was on mine.
By Danh Chantachak8 months ago in Fiction
Jump
I stand at the edge of the platform, looking down at the view below. It’s dark, still a few minutes before daybreak, so I can only make out rough shapes and outlines of cliffs and trees. The waterfall plummets down the cliff behind me, its thunderous chorus filling my ears with the sound of crashing water. It is a powerful and terrifying sound and though I have made this kind of jump many times before, the sheer violence and speed of the water rushing down the cliff is enough to give me pause.
By Danh Chantachak8 months ago in Fiction
A Tree that Bears No Fruit
“Great Uncle!” The lilting call drifted in through the open window. Perfect timing, I thought. I had just finished preparing the tea. Carefully, I lifted the tray and brought the tea out to the garden, where my grand niece was standing, wielding a rake and standing over a large pile of leaves.
By Danh Chantachak4 years ago in Fiction
Metamorphosis
I looked out onto the frozen lake, the cold wind somehow slicing through my many layers of clothing, making me shiver. The lake was vast and flat and stood out in the foreground against its mountainous background. Everything was white; the mountains, the lake's frozen surface, the ground, the surrounding fence. Even the air was white. The only sense of shade that could be seen were the distant trees, whose canopies shielded their trunks from the snow that had blanketed everything else.
By Danh Chantachak4 years ago in Fiction
Against the Current
I was invited to the town by the elders so that I could document an interesting phenomenon that had been occurring of late. It was mid-spring, but the cherry blossoms had yet to bloom in the village on account of it being an unusually cool spring this year. Despite this, the town was abuzz with activity.
By Danh Chantachak4 years ago in Fiction
March of the Aurochs
When I was a young boy, I used to love going to these gatherings. There was always lots of good food, I got a chance to play with my friends, and most importantly, I got to get out of the house for a while. However, as I entered adolescence, the gatherings gradually became less and less fun. Every year, fewer of my friends would attend, preferring to hang out with their friends from school rather than the friends that had been thrust upon them by family. As I grew older, there was also more expectation for me to participate in the traditional side of the gatherings – the prayer ceremonies that often lasted for what felt like hours. The gatherings became less about playing around and goofing off, and more about learning about the traditions of my parents’ faith.
By Danh Chantachak4 years ago in Fiction
Dark Chocolate
“You’re going to die in here,” the slice of cake tells me. It sits on a plastic blue plate atop my kitchen counter. I hadn’t bought the plate, mind you. Rather, I’d found it in the apartment when I moved in, evidently left behind by the previous tenant. It is the only plate I own.
By Danh Chantachak5 years ago in Fiction
Country Roads
The barn looked as if it hadn’t been used in years. The floorboards were dry and dusty, with loose strands of old hay strewn all about the place. There were some tools on a rack affixed to one wall, but they were all rusty with age and neglect. Despite all this, the structure itself looked well-maintained, sturdy. This is why he had chosen to hunker down here for a spell, while he found his bearings. He’d figured he could rest up and be gone before anyone noticed his presence. He’d been wrong.
By Danh Chantachak5 years ago in Fiction
