J. R. Lowe
Bio
By day, I'm a PhD student, by night.... I'm still a PhD student, but sometimes I procrastinate by writing on Vocal. Based in Australia.
Achievements (10)
Stories (100)
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Homesick. First Place in Weekend Getaway Challenge. Top Story - December 2022.
We drove up the snowy, winding road towards the cozy A-frame cabin. I knew we were heading there because he was a man of habit. The impulse was carved into his very being, and he was drawn to the cabin every winter like a moth to a flame. But he wasn't a moth, he was a wolf in sheep's clothing.
By J. R. Lowe3 years ago in Fiction
Gambler
The package arrives promptly at 10:00 AM on Tuesday, but you barely react when the drone's tone sounds at the front door. The two cups of Earl Grey on the coffee table have gone cold. One is mostly empty, drunk half-heartedly, but the second is still full, made accidentally by habit. Sitting on the futon couch, with eyes glued to the television, your face has set like concrete into a permanently pained expression. Every wrinkle and every white hair on your body is grieving.
By J. R. Lowe3 years ago in Fiction
Through the Glass
Peering through the aquarium's glass is like looking into another world. Everything is dowsed in blue ripples, with mysterious creatures shuffling by in crowds. It's beautiful and alien, and it captivates me entirely, allowing my mind to escape the monotony of a life stuck in senseless repetition. Yet, the enjoyment I get from the experience is always tainted by pity, and I find myself wondering if those creatures, those gorgeous, colourful beings, have any idea they're trapped, and if they did, would they care?
By J. R. Lowe3 years ago in Fiction
A Cure For Immortality
She was the shape of innocence when Proteus first laid his eyes upon her. Two-feet tall with well-rounded cheeks and golden ringlets scattered across her head, she was dressed in a pink t-shirt and denim overalls. There wasn't much of her to begin with, but her tiny stature was dwarfed even further as Proteus approached, his body assuming the giant shape of the child's worst fear as he pushed the forest's foliage aside.
By J. R. Lowe3 years ago in Fiction
