Frank DeSonia
Bio
I'm a 31 year old wanderer. I've lived a pretty unorthodox life and done a little bit of everything it seems. I've loved to write since I was in elementary school and enjoy participating in challenges to home in on my craft.
Stories (5)
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Clouded
There weren’t always dragons in the valley. Smoldering piles of dreams and DNA now litter what was once a vibrant oasis of life and opportunity in the world known as ‘Extremity’, a microscopic world that lived inside the mind of a gentleman named Jude. He named this mysterious yet beautiful world Extremity, after the way in which he thrives, in the extremities of life. The first ten years were beautiful, they were full of the most magnificent beams of sun streaking through pillowy clouds that could be shaped into whatever you imagined with just a thought. It smelled of summer at dusk just before it rained, yet it never stormed. Instead of thunder, audible memories of laughter and comfort echoed through the sky. You had the power to change the landscape to exactly what you wanted to see and build a road to anywhere you desired in an instant. It was a world of wonders, dreams, excitement, and mystery that never ceased to fascinate Jude. Perhaps, he visited too often, for the outside world for Jude was not as mystic and when ignored, would collapse in around Extremity creating small cracks in the sky where bad things lived.
By Frank DeSonia 4 years ago in Fiction
Mississippi Moonlight
"I've dwelt beneath the Mississippi moonlight more times than I can recollect, tracing the stars with my fingers, making them connect. I've barreled down the Rockies heavy with steel; twisting and turning down steep slippery slopes, my hands tight on the wheel. I've climbed to the top of mountains by machine and by foot, perched on the mountains edge, wishing to stay put. I've had the lights of New York City glisten in my eyes, the countries biggest city yet no one heard my lonely sighs. I've wandered California's boardwalks drunk and alone, absorbing all I could, my destination unknown. I've felt the great Wyoming wind crash against my face, hitting so hard I was knocked me out of place. I've stood up high at the continental divide spreading ashes, remembering the day my father died. A great autumn gust came and picked up the dust, ashes of flesh and bone floating down to the valley below, in that moment I couldn't help but remember, you reap what you sew. I have crisscrossed this landscape more times than I care to reminisce, like an ember dancing in the wind, searching for bliss. One last trip. One last ride. Ignition; this time in stride."
By Frank DeSonia 4 years ago in Poets
