Griffen Helm
Bio
Griffen Helm; Writer of Things.
Fair Warning my work can be pretty violent, rude, lewd, and explicit; including themes of depression suicide, etc.
Stories (41)
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Where to go and what to do?
Where do you go when you have nowhere to go? This isn’t some sort of riddle, it's a genuine question I have. When you can’t be at home, due to travel, construction or, of course, being homeless; what is the appropriate measure for an introvert such as myself? I could spend all day in a cafe, writing ceaselessly as is so appropriate in movies and television, but realistically how much-unlimited coffee can I drink before someone making minimum wage is forced to evict me from the premise?
By Griffen Helm3 years ago in Journal
Thrive
I’m afraid to write on my new Adhd medication; as opposed to before when I simply couldn’t find the words to embroider onto the page. Stitching a rich tapestry of words has always been this inane calling to me, something to dream about on lonely depressing nights where sleep or comfort would escape me.
By Griffen Helm3 years ago in Fiction
Cecil Vizena
My Grandmother Vivian was born in Chapleau, a small French Canadian town in northern Ontario. This area was historically occupied by the Cree Nation. Her father, Cecil Vizena, was a known criminal in the area, although in a more romantic sense of the word. Instead of stealing, extorting or killing, my great grandfather was known primarily for one thing: Dynamite fishing. Which is just as it sounds, using high powered explosives to blast large quantities of fish out of the water. The dead fish would then float to the surface due to remnant air pockets in their bodies; to be easily collected at the fisherman’s leisure. While the use of dynamite on its own brings a general danger and menace to the public, it is not the only thing that put my great grandfather on the wrong side of the law. In the 1920s, during the time he operated, vagrancy laws (which essentially criminalized drifters and the homeless) were rampant. Cecil operated as a criminal, risking his life to feed the vagrant population of Chapleau. Interestingly, my grandfather’s escapades did not just extend to the downtrodden white population of Chapleau but involved feeding the aboriginal populations that surrounded it. Cecil was an outlaw who defied the Canadian government by directly offering aid to the Cree Nation.
By Griffen Helm4 years ago in Families
Reconciliation?
On the subject of colonizer/ settler responsibility and the broad emotional spectrum that is white guilt. It honestly feels like we should just return Saskatchewan westwards. I know for a fact that we will not be doing so, but it is still nice to dream of a world where indigenous peoples can only get shortchanged for half of the land they originally owned.
By Griffen Helm4 years ago in Humans
Magi
Low rumbling; soft heat. Growing louder building up. I fire, life ends. -- My arm jolts, ozone collects within the filters of my suit’s helmet; from the barrel of my Fulgor Carbine, a pulsating ball of plasma explodes, carried forward by a small magnetic charge.
By Griffen Helm4 years ago in Fiction
Nature's Thorn
Living close to to a mountainside, I was always exposed to nature. Beautiful rolling hills, densely packed with brush and trees; Snaked with long, well-trodden trails. The air is crisp and refreshing, especially in the winter months. Typically children with this sort of upbringing should feel an unburdened connection to nature, punctuated by a particular flower or spot within this natural domain. Of course, this is not the case, as seen with the use of “typically” at the beginning of this paragraph.
By Griffen Helm5 years ago in Wander
