Ryan Clarke
Stories (2)
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Paradise Never Found
Oliver’s fingers strain under his weight. His woolen coat, once his shield from the sharp stabs of wind, now thrice soaked and adding to the burden. The water is cold, but seems a warm and inviting haven from the elements; a kind of isolation from the gale. A notion to let go and have the waves take him is repulsed with no insignificant effort. A straw lined sleeping mat on a soft earthen floor. Flickering light and luscious fleeting warmth of a whale oil lantern. Aching blisters on his feet, oozing their own brand of liquid warmth into his socks. Nothing but the next day in the field to occupy his mind. Paradise.
By Ryan Clarke5 years ago in Fiction
A Dead Life
What is to become of humanity? Will we struggle over the cusp of a cliff to find haven on a flat plateau? Having reached a place of such stark contrast to the rocky cliff, that we sink our sore heels into the soft soil and call it home. Do we not cast at least a cursory glance to the next cliff in our catch? And what if we are to fall? From the first cliff or the second? Will we rise like a phoenix from the? Reborn to a fresh start, retaining our previous risks and rewards? Or perhaps our ember, and all energy spent creating it, will fade to blackness like the closing of a tired eye.
By Ryan Clarke5 years ago in Fiction
