J. S. Wade
Bio
Since reading Tolkien in Middle school, I have been fascinated with creating, reading, and hearing art through story’s and music. I am a perpetual student of writing and life.
J. S. Wade owns all work contained here.
Stories (248)
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The Travel Bag
Hole in the World - Eagles ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Dust and soot swirled where the twin towers collapsed. Sirens screamed. Oceans of people stared into space; their minds were sucked into a vacuum of shock. Conspiracy theories abounded for who to blame. All I knew was one of the two thousand nine hundred and seventy-seven lives pummeled into the earth was my sweet Rachel. I stared down at my black boots that matched the dark void of my heart where our love for each other had resided.
By J. S. Wade3 years ago in Fiction
Little Mike’s Dream
Little Mike’s big dream. Character judged, not one’s skin.— Children! Live in love! *** *** *** Martin Luther King Jr. was born on January 15, 1929 as Michael Lewis King Jr. His father, a famous preacher, was Micheal Lewis King Sr. When he was a young child friends and family called the father Big Mike and the son Little Mike.
By J. S. Wade3 years ago in Poets
The Altered Sands of the Soul. Top Story - February 2023.
Hobnailed shoes pinched my feet as I pushed through the Mississippi farm fields toward the greenhouse behind the antebellum mansion. My quest for destruction had brought me back in time one hundred and ninety years to the year 1833. If I could destroy the literal seeds of slavery at its root, I could change the history of the world and millions of lives.
By J. S. Wade3 years ago in Fiction
Jolly Roger
Seawater filled my mouth, and I swallowed the warm green brine of the Caribbean as another wave buried me. The Sweet Lucy's main mast, flying the skull and crossbones, appeared over a swell. With the next, the pirate schooner disappeared out of sight. "Fun in the tropics," Joey, my friend, had said, "let's play pirate like the days of old on the high seas, drink rum, and sing sea shanties." He sang and danced a jig. But when th' Black Baller gets clear o' th' land. W-ay! Hey? Blow th' man down! "Come on, Jolly, let's have some fun."
By J. S. Wade3 years ago in Fiction
