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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Remember Me. Top Story - January 2023.
Matthew I hate mailboxes. In days past, they brought personal news along with bills and advertisements. A handwritten letter stimulated excitement because someone took pen and paper and conveyed their thoughts. A handwritten note represented time and effort. My Dad's generation cherished letters and saved them for decades as stored memories. Nothing good ever comes in the mailbox anymore and today was no exception.
By J. S. Wade3 years ago in Fiction
Batchelder The Great
Shawn Batchelder, a vocal member, tipped me in support of a poem I wrote. Without any creations of his own, I have no means to thank him beyond deeming him a patron and penning this poem in his honor. Thank you, Shawn, for your kind generosity. I hope you see this.
By J. S. Wade3 years ago in Poets
Fare Thee Well
Zeke shuffled down the concrete corridor with Gantry, the head prison guard, on his right and Father Curtis to his left. At thirty-four years old, his life was represented by three granite monuments in the City cemetery. Three bank executives working late, and an explosive intended to blow open a safe, had ended his life of greed built on arrogance. His death penalty conviction had blown apart the myth of banker's hours. The death chamber awaited him at the end of the hall, where he would be put to sleep like a rabid dog.
By J. S. Wade3 years ago in Fiction
My 100th for Tom Bradbury
My ninety-nine posts on Vocal have left me to ponder what I would publish for the one hundredth. Ninety-nine poems, articles, and short stories, both fiction and non-fiction. A few were silly art poems for fun. The one hundredth had to be unique.
By J. S. Wade3 years ago in Humans
The Sun Burns Fierce Behind the Last Window
The outside world was unknown to her, but she could see a glimpse of it through the window in his room. Black-out curtains blocked all but the upper panel. Blood-red light reflected across her green-trimmed white cotton robe and shimmered as if she were mortally wounded.
By J. S. Wade3 years ago in Horror
The Anarchy of a Haiku Challenge. Top Story - December 2022.
Vocal Media has taught me many things through the poetry challenges of the past two years. First, I learned the traditional form of a Shakespearean Sonnet and drove myself quite mad counting syllables, creating the rhythm of Iambic pentameter, and stressing every other syllable. I worked hard. Then, low and behold, the winning sonnets broke all the rules. What?
By J. S. Wade3 years ago in Motivation
