Robert Wagner
Bio
Retired Marine turned engineer. I have always loved fantasy fiction books. R.A. Salvatore was one of my favorites when I was younger. Tom Robbins has grabbed my attention as of late. I just discovered that I love to write!
Stories (4)
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When One Digs Too Deep
The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. The candle itself was red; intricate carvings filled with gold flakes surrounded its waxy, dust-covered skin. Tiny faces of horned figures and winged creatures, all locked in infinite battle. Particles of ancient dust crackled into short-lived microscopic explosions as they entered the tiny flame’s combustible embrace. The flame cast phantasmal shadows across the dark, broken floorboards of the stale, moss-covered cabin room. It illuminated both the ancient rusty mining equipment leaning against a wooden storage crate and thin cloth drapes, some clinging by just a thread off the protruding vines that had forced their way into the dark dwelling through tiny cracks of the cabin’s dry rotted outer walls.
By Robert Wagner4 years ago in Horror
Recycled
This place, so cold and dark save the occasional bright streak of a passerby, though no greeting was ever given. If lucky, my trajectory would lead past the large glowing inhabitants of the nothingness through which I was traversing. I would visit them every now and then. They would always greet me with warmth though they never spoke and unselfishly lit the way with their heavenly radiance, quelling the screams of angst and loneliness, most unwelcome passengers they were. Some of these radiant beings were bright red or orange, some bright white and all smaller relatives of their much larger blue cousins. If unlucky, I would fly through flocks of mindless travelers with no regard of those around them. Selfish things, never giving right of way and always painfully pushing past me without so much as an apology. I despised them!
By Robert Wagner4 years ago in Fiction
The Spirit of Tattoo
It was April 20th, 2007. Matthew Raatz, a Corporal in the United States Marine Corps, watched and listened as the foamy waves rolled in slapping and wrapping themselves around the wooden logs supporting the weight of the Oceanside pier under which he sat. Black mussels, tightly fused together against the wood creating miniature shell colonies, reflected the yellow and orange hues of the setting sun. He shuffled his feet further into the cooling sand and sat with his scarred arms crossed over his knees under his chin, like a statue save the occasional movement as his licked the settling salt from his lips.
By Robert Wagner4 years ago in Fiction
A Last Act of Defiance
The smell of sulfur saturated the air. The putrid fumes filled my lungs making it difficult to breath. Every step up the porous, black slope presented the promise of ultimate exhaustion. I refused to wipe my brow for fear that the stinging muddy concoction of ash and sweat would fill my eyes blinding me from the dangers that spewed forth from within the surrounding darkness. Sending the Illume Orb twenty feet or so behind me every few minutes ensured that I would not be surprised by a would-be-assassin, stalking from the shadows preparing to slip one of their 9-inch-long poisoned blades in between the shale-like armor protecting my torso. The bright glowing orb floated over the bodies of those that had already attempted to kill me, serving as a tiresome reminder of things to come. Oddly shaped forms covered in a blue, gooey substance that once gave them life.
By Robert Wagner4 years ago in Fiction
