James Green
Bio
Weaving words into captivating worlds, this author's storytelling will transport you to realms of imagination and leave you breathless.
Profiles and content: https://linktr.ee/gr33ngr33n
Stories (372)
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The Unsinkable Ethos: A Titanic Tale of Survival and Guilt
It was a cold, dark night in April as the Titanic set sail from Southampton, England. On board, a diverse group of passengers ranging from wealthy industrialists to poor emigrants seeking a new life in America. Among them was a young man named Ethan, who was returning home after studying abroad in Europe.
By James Green3 years ago in Fiction
The Thompson Family's Dark Holiday Gathering
It was the day before Christmas, and the air was filled with excitement and anticipation as the Thompson family gathered at their ancestral home for their annual holiday celebration. As always, the house was decked out in twinkling lights and festive decorations, and the smell of freshly baked cookies and roasting turkey filled the air.
By James Green3 years ago in Fiction
The Watcher at the Window
It was a cold, dark winter night in the city of New York. The streets were empty and quiet, as everyone had retreated indoors to escape the biting wind and relentless snow. All that could be heard was the soft crunch of tires on the icy road and the occasional howl of the wind.
By James Green3 years ago in Fiction
A1
There was a small town nestled in the mountains, known for its beautiful gardens and tranquil atmosphere. In the centre of town stood a grand park, filled with lush trees, bubbling fountains, and winding paths. And in the centre of the park stood a towering statue of the Buddha, carved from gleaming marble.
By James Green3 years ago in Poets
TICK-TOCK CLOCK
Tick-tock goes the clock, wall hang, tick-tock. Twelve numbers ticking around, twenty-four, lost and found, tick-tocking around. Sixty hides between those lines, making one just like a spine. The numbers aren't just for show, the more you count them the more they grow. Round is the face, two are the arms, numbers body, legs are the sound, for what is the use of movement when tick-tocking around. Sit down and wait, for what chimes next is great, sounds that boom on the dot, the line, straight shape. Ding! "Oh my, what a sound this is!" Dong! "The joy of sounds, oh ultimate bliss!"
By James Green4 years ago in Poets
NO ONE CAN HEAR HIM CALL
Hear him call, the knock on wood that fell from a tree for paper to use by thee. Hear him shout, whilst ye sit in the corner all alone. No one can hear him call. Cheerful, stout; "God's name, what is this man yelling about?" Heart of Gold, sincere with a pout; sitting in the corner listening, can't make out. Silence becomes words, a stern look, no frown, for what's delivered is honest, shivering through and through; words become silent; cheerful, renewed. No more, no nothing, here and the now, bewildered, feeling a frown? "Look, you'll see, this gift I gave you."
By James Green4 years ago in Poets
HILLS
Look to the hills, where the air is fresh with the odour of blooming daffodils. "Hello?" The sun, so warm in the sky, blazing down upon hills, fresh with daises. "Pleasure to me you." Roll in the grass, cartwheel down the hills. "I can't believe we met." So much green, so many hills, the air so fresh, the smell of summer, sweet. "This has to be a dream?" Not a cloud in the sky, blue, so far and wide. "It's not." Bloom, everywhere, blossom, day. "I'm so happy we met." Daisy chains, yellow-white daffodil cups, grass stains. "Me too." No rush, whole day.
By James Green4 years ago in Poets
