Ryan Wilkins
Bio
Don’t Panic…
Achievements (1)
Stories (8)
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Cheashing To Dorants
The loud bustle of heavy footsteps clashed with the repeated shrill blasts of steam that spilt out onto the cobblestones in front of the rows of densely packed shabby houses. Homes that would soon see a loss of love from their communities as the future literally arrived to force them out. Pushing away the revered and old to make wake for the new. We huddled crouched together ensuring we would not get lost in the tides of people. My hand securely in the grip of my mother as we swayed amongst the knees and boots of our fellow passengers.
By Ryan Wilkins3 years ago in Fiction
The Wishing Tree
“The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window.” Jessica held the flashlight up beneath her chin for added effect. “My older sister explained that the cottage is hidden in the woods and is challenging to find only revealing itself during a summer’s full moon, when a camper must seek it to reach the wishing tree.” She was putting on a voice to go with her story. “Each year a camper must be chosen to follow the sign of the owl, which will lead you to the cottage in the woods. You must enter the house alone at night and touch the wishing tree’s surface at the heart of the cottage, then the camper’s wish will be granted.” Jessica had the groups full attention as she spoke. The ambient silence as we listened was putting me more on edge, eyes that flickered in the artificial light, taking on a more primal appearance. The silence made the room feel foreign as the smell of mildew and old sweat traced through the air.
By Ryan Wilkins4 years ago in Horror
The Lord and Saviour
There weren’t always dragons in the valley. There are stories passed through my family from my great grandfather’s time that speak of the first days that the great kites descended from the skies, a time before when humanity was free. The great ones had come when they had completely exhausted the wastes of the north for every possible resource they could have, the very land left hollow and dead in their flying wakes. Each one’s individual greed pushed them to attempt to take more and more a diseased obsession that only made them emptier and paranoid inside. Constant infighting between the Lords had withered not only the land, but their very species to the brink of non-existence to a point when only their strongest competitors were left. Kings of rubble,
By Ryan Wilkins4 years ago in Fiction
Mr. Right. Runner-Up in Ship of Dreams Challenge.
The chopping of the sea, ancient and mysterious, all knowing while descending its waves upon an old galleon, wood bending from the force of the water’s hammer like strikes, each colossal blast pushing to bring it under, but still it sailed through the storm.
By Ryan Wilkins4 years ago in Fiction
Burned Out
Another perfect day, a sky so aqua it approached neon in the 16:34:12 afternoon light. Direct rays from the sun were actually somewhat rare down in the Gamin Core. Today was no different, a series of reflections from the nearby buildings zig zagged the light all the way down almost a kilometer to reach street level. The scrappers were so monstrously tall that you had to be at the right place, or the right time to feel the rays of sunlight on your face. Not that I was happy about this perfect day. Normally the cloudless sky calmed me, helped me feel less penned in. Today I was working. Waiting in a borrowed Hazah, in the lead passenger position, my hands lie on the armrest, in a relaxed position, head comfortably forward, alert. Some Hazahs came with manual interface controls, but those could draw an onlooker’s suspicious glance. Where are you travelling that you need to find your own path? I wished to be invisible. The sun was toying with me attempting to cook me in my travel oven. It knew that if I sweat enough I would lose the dull invisible layer of Drux that coated my hands. A layer of super fine resin that covered my skin from the wrist up. Impossible to feel unless you really knew what my skin texture felt like. But if I sweat enough my fingerprints will come back through, I wouldn’t want that. So I turned on the Air control, as this was a heavily repaired older model Hazah. The air made a slight noise while it cooled me, gusting slowly through the cabin. All the while I watched the street. I was in a row of Hazahs, all parked on the righthand side of Dweal St. A busy area right downtown, the buildings overhead watching as people milled like ants following each other around both ends of the boulevard. I waited. My guy would be here soon. In the meantime I watched the fish. The large six story screens on the outsides of the Scrapers, these ones worked together to form a panorama of open ocean in the street. This helped keep Citizens from going stir crazy, feeling trapped.
By Ryan Wilkins4 years ago in Fiction
