Len Sherman
Bio
I'm a published author/artist but tend to think of myself as a doodler\dabbler. I've sailed the NW Passage & wrote & illustrated a book, ARCTIC ODYSSEY. Currently, I live on 50 semi wilderness acres & see lots of wild critters in the yard.
Stories (61)
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THE MATCH
struck a wooden match and waited for a hot flame snow melting once lit
By Len Shermanabout a month ago in Poets
SEBASTIAN TREVARIUS
Sebastian Trevarius lives and works as a APCG (Astroid Prison Colony Guard) which is located near the planet Jupiter. After reading all of Louis L’Amour’s westerns, he opted to have a Time Machine Vacation during the wild west era. Although this type of vacation can be very dangerous, being a guard and quelling prison riots can be equally dangerous—both are deadly—wounded or killed not uncommon. While preparing for his wild west adventure, he had a replica of a Colt Single Action Army Revolver, aka, The Peacemaker manufactured to his specifications. Instead of a single action six-gun, it was semi-automatic and contained 12 bullets. Also, Sebastian didn’t have to carefully aim the weapon, only look at the spot where he wanted the bullet to hit and then pull the trigger. Also, the gun couldn’t be used against him because it had been technically digitized to only recognize his hands. Besides the weapon, his clothes, including his Stetson, boots and holster were tailored to fit his broad shoulders, narrow hips and well-muscled body. He may not look like an actual wild west cowboy, but Hollywood would have loved his piercing blue eyes, thick, wavy blonde hair and chin with a cleft in the centre of it.
By Len Shermanabout a month ago in Futurism
PATIENCE
patience a virtue no hurry to search for love best wait for the flame
By Len Shermanabout a month ago in Poets
REBUKE
pondering purpose icy-cold as a winter's wind she turned love away
By Len ShermanExclusive • about a month ago
TRIP N DAISY - Episode 4
How much time had passed since that humongous whale had flipped the Hippie-Hangout through the cerulean sky and Aquaman, Jason Momoa had dived to the bottom of the sea, I have no idea, but when it materialized on a narrow twisty road and heading downhill, I thought we were time-travelling rather than having a mind-blowing experience. When the heavy blue smoke from the bong faded away, leaving only the sweet pungent aroma of its contents, I could scarce believe my eyes. Coming towards us in the middle of the road was a Viking riding a bicycle and not only did he have a helmet containing a set of horns on his head, but he was also wearing a pair of designer sunglasses. I don't know whose eyes bugged out the most, his or ours? Talk about a mind-blow!
By Len Sherman4 years ago in Wander
TRIP 'n' DAISY
Bright psychedelic images flashed through my mind like an out-of-control kaleidoscope while Daisy and I were relaxing in the Hippie Hangout with a small group of friendly Greenlanders that were hitching a rid to our next destination—wish I knew where that was. Then, jumpin'-Jack-flash, the next thing I knew, the truck and trailer were parked on top of a gargantuan whale's back and we were surfing through the icy North Atlantic Ocean. Thankfully the sea is calm and as I gather my wits, although to be truthful, I’m witless at the time, I take in our surroundings but all I can see is water in every direction. Daisy is as astonished as me as she looks out the front window and casually declares, "Whatever. Icebergs, polar bears, why not trip out on a huge freakin’ whale! Not sure if it’s a male humpback whale but Daisy isn’t taking any chances, I notice she’s not bending over so much. Man! Don’t know what we’re smokin’ but this is some elite, el primo, first-class, high-in-the-sky stuff."
By Len Sherman4 years ago in Fiction
ROOM 254
The old man awakened when he felt his hospital bed rolling through a large open doorway. The long narrow ward that he had shared with nine other men of various ages had been his home for the past ten or eleven days, but he couldn’t remember which, since he had been asleep most of his stay. A male orderly was pushing his bed while another one managed the battery powered IV pump, to ensure the designated saline solution was dripping into his old, worn out, cancer ridden body. When the bed rolled to a stop at the elevator, the men began chatting. From what the old man could discern, they were both about the same age, early 30’s, had similar hairdos and facial hair, the fashion being a three-to-five-day old beard. He couldn’t quite hear all their conversation but from the little information he could glean, they were talking about a pretty nurse they wouldn’t mind getting their hands on.
By Len Sherman4 years ago in Fiction
