Kale Sinclair
Bio
Author | Poet | Husband | Dog Dad | Nerd
Find my published poetry, and short story books here!
Stories (284)
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Road Rage | Pars Duo
Lunging with every ounce of strength she could conjure, Rosalie hastily retrieved her brother from the overturned death trap. She tolled him onto his back and immediately checked for a pulse. Moments ago he had let out a faint moan and twitch, but he had fallen silent again. Thankfully she was able to locate a pulse. It was faint, and slow, but it was there.
By Kale Sinclair2 years ago in Fiction
Misplaced
Boston The air around me was hot, and sticky. I tried to wiggle free, but I only managed to wedge myself deeper. My lower half was twisted around peanut butter coated molars, my midsection was punctured by two, large canines, while the rest of my body hung from her drooling jowls. There was no escape.
By Kale Sinclair2 years ago in Fiction
The Fiat, and The Grenade
Sicily | 1943 Corrado smirked, then disappeared back into the belly of the concealed bed. Rosalie re-tied the knot to the tarp, then climbed into the passenger seat. The partition had partially closed during the hectic stop, so she used her fingers to fully open it. Corrado’s head was directly on the other side, getting as close as humanly possible. This made her giggle, adding a little comfort to the rumbling sound of an accelerating engine.
By Kale Sinclair2 years ago in Fiction
Road Rage
Sicily | 1943 Ulrich placed the Italian rifle, with a sixty-millimeter anti-tank attachment, down onto a thin pile of leaves, then swiftly hurdled himself over the highway’s guardrail. Nadine did the same with her rifle, and followed Ulrich with a similar vile grin, slicing her six-inch dagger through the air as if she was sharpening the blade with the wind. Ulrich yanked his Luger from his waistband, and together in stride, closed in on the burning supply truck.
By Kale Sinclair2 years ago in Fiction
Saber Tooth
The snowfall was increasing, and the distance of clear visibility was rapidly diminishing. Ellie was anxious, whining to be off leash so she could frolic in the snow, but I saw the coyotes before she did which forced me to immediately increase the tension on her leash.
By Kale Sinclair2 years ago in Fiction
The Perfect Stick
Ellie pounced first. The puppy stand-off was rounding its third dramatic minute, and Ellie couldn’t take anymore suspense. Lunging low, Ellie was able to scoop the three foot tree branch from the snow, kicking up excess chunks of soft ice in Lucy’s face as she happily hopped in the opposite direction. Lucy instantly felt disrespected, so she acted on instinct and chased after Ellie until she was able to get her incisors securely latched onto the opposite end of the icey branch.
By Kale Sinclair2 years ago in Fiction
The Engagement
Port of Venice The cruise ship was the largest sea vessel I had ever seen in my entire thirty-two years of life on this planet. The Norwegian behemoth was docked at Isola Nuova, Venice’s main cruise port. Registering at just over one-thousand feet in length, and peaking at one hundred and thirty-three feet in height, the fifteen deck masterpiece truly took my breath away. In that sublime moment in time, I tried to mentally prepare myself for the twelve day Mediterranean cruise my girlfriend, Emily, and I were about to embark on in celebration of her thirtieth birthday, while simultaneously trying to conceal the engagement ring burning a hole in my backpack. This was also the first cruise ship I had ever been on, so naturally my nerves were rattling out of control. The encroaching storm wasn’t helping my anxiety either.
By Kale Sinclair2 years ago in Chapters
My Song
Sicily | 1943 Under a firm mutual agreement of trust, the misfitted group of four banded together to clean up their mess. Corrado helped Father Burgio gather the dead bodies of the Italian soldiers, and Rosalie helped Garret give Private Hale a temporary burial - which consisted of blanketing him with a few layers thick sheets - until Garret was able to get his body back into the hands of the American military.
By Kale Sinclair2 years ago in Fiction
Brothers of Black Stone | Pt. 3
Sicily | July 10th | 1943 Garret used the combat knife to cut a slit in the fabric of Tim’s pants, and revealed the gunshot wound. Without any syrettes, there was nothing he could do to lessen the pain, but that mattered little. Tim’s paleness and lack of awareness were tell-tale signs of shock, and the bullet unfortunately severed his femoral artery. There was nothing he could do. Garret held his friend’s hands in his own, and stayed with him until his eyes rolled back, exposing their white bellies. He stayed with Tim until the end.
By Kale Sinclair2 years ago in Fiction
