Kale Sinclair
Bio
Author | Poet | Husband | Dog Dad | Nerd
Find my published poetry, and short story books here!
Stories (284)
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The First Car
2024 Hot, hissing steam, mixed with the bone-rattling rumble of steel wheels grinding against steel tracks, shocked Tyler awake from his deep unconscious state. As he peeled away his cheek from the warm glass window, his eyes adjusted to the light, and the glaze began to fade, allowing his surroundings to become clear. He was sitting alone in a luxurious booth, with a large mahogany table in the center. On that table, was a sweating whiskey glass that was down to its final ice cube.
By Kale Sinclair2 years ago in Fiction
Trap Door
Canicatti, Sicily | July 10th, 1943 | 9:27A.M An annoyingly beautiful orchestra of chirping stirred Rosalie from her deep sleep, pulling her from her dreams. She stretched out her arms until all of the kinks between her joints either popped or cracked. Then bent her neck from side to side, achieving the same relieving effect. She wiped away the sand from the corners of her eyes with her knuckles, then rolled herself out of a make-shift straw bed.
By Kale Sinclair2 years ago in Fiction
Captivity
Casablanca, North Africa July, 1943 The room was small, cold and dark, save for a slithering flaw in the ceiling’s back-right corner - which allowed fleeting shards of moonlight to dance across the sandy floor. His sense of time was a mystery, and he had absolutely no idea where he was. His shaved head throbbed from dehydration, his bruised stomach writhed from lack of food, and his blackened bones pulsed from the daily beatings.
By Kale Sinclair2 years ago in Fiction
Blending In . Content Warning.
Canicatti |July 10th, 1943 | 10:36A.M Ulrich didn’t mind the pleated dress, and matching red blouse. Mostly because the outfit accentuated her bosom, and ass. As he stared Nadine down from behind, Ulrich fought with the uncomfortable tendrils of his wool sweater that had fresh blood stains on the cuffs. It was ruining his inappropriate moment.
By Kale Sinclair2 years ago in Fiction
Medusa | Part Two. Content Warning.
“That’s enough fun. Stand him up.” The three soldiers immediately ceased laughing. The fat soldier, with the help of scarface, bent down and heaved the battered and bloody Vicenzu to his feet. The short blonde man took a couple steps back, violently yanking Pietro with him, causing him to squeal as he choked on his tongue.
By Kale Sinclair2 years ago in Fiction
Medusa | Part One. Content Warning.
Canicatti, Sicily | July 6th, 1943 Rosalie’s feet, calves, and thighs burned from traversing the uneven ground. A small part of her wished she had taken one of the bicycles, but she was glad she didn’t. The hour-long walk beneath the moon and stars, provided her with enough time to allow her mind to freely roam the universe. Allowing the solitude to provide her with the pleasure of peace, and calmness — which she used to keep her violent anxiety at bay.
By Kale Sinclair2 years ago in Fiction
