Judah LoVato
Bio
My collection of sometimes decent writing
Which I've left "there" for seekers to seek
Though I lack the grandeur of that Pirate King
Perhaps these pebbles can be a light
In this life, this laughing tale
Stories (106)
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Those Who Leave the Light
This ship can never sink. It's 10'000-year history all but proves it. There are some anxious, ill-read things aboard who mutter otherwise, but they dwell down in the engine cabins. Such stupid things to choose that life- if only they had the sense to live in the sun, then they'd see that this ship is far too pleasant to sink.
By Judah LoVatoabout a year ago in Fiction
The Birds Aren’t Real
I’ve had the same dream for three weeks: It’s a bright Spring day in Buffalo, Wyoming and I walk along the Clear Creek Trail. The air is clean and clear, and the trees rustle in a light breeze. The creek shooshes to my left as I head West. I feel calm and at peace in the yellow-green light of spring. The sounds of birds overcome the dull rush of distant cars, then my attention is drawn to a bird on a limb. A robin. I stop and look, admiring the creature. It looks at me, adjusting its focus to a side-eyed tilt, then its eye opens like a camera aperture.
By Judah LoVato2 years ago in Fiction
The Singer So Shy. Second Place in Just a Minute Challenge. Top Story - May 2024. Content Warning.
She stood near the cold fireplace, watching the second-hand tick down to the hour. In another minute, the clock's bird would emerge and warble the hour. She reached up and touched the clock, tracing the gentle slope of the farmhouse roof, then trailing down the lilac strewn side, to the white fence framed dooryard. She wished she was there, where the air would smell of lilacs rather than smoke.
By Judah LoVato2 years ago in Fiction
The Hunt
Two men skulked along a game trail, their path illuminated by what little moonlight the trees allowed through. The man in the lead paused, then stooped to examine a spot in the trail. He gestured to his accomplice and pointed to an impression on the ground.
By Judah LoVato2 years ago in Fiction
Love is a Shitload of Work. Runner-Up in Love Unraveled Challenge.
Love… is a shitload of work. This is most likely because ‘love’ is a verb and not a nouny feeling like we want to believe. If love were a noun, it would be simpler to understand because nouns are straight forward and honest; self-centered, to be sure, but with a noun you can be certain what kind of person, place, or thing you’re getting.
By Judah LoVato2 years ago in Humans
