Sean Rohrer
Bio
Write.
And question everything.
Stories (14)
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Goodbye Oak Ridge
I loved Milo Jackson. Not because we were of the same age and of opposite anatomies, but because she was different. Milo and I were young when we met. She is long gone and I am now a tired old man. Milo lived as both victim and villain. It is doubtful this story will bring you closer to any understanding, but it was important that I put pencil to paper anyway.
By Sean Rohrer5 years ago in Fiction
Bus 713
I awoke on a bus. My head pounded and felt like a well used snare drum. Where am I? I remembered nothing. I had a tattoo on my wrist, 713. It was dark and the air was acrid, full of sulfur and ash. It smelled of death. I closed my eyes and rubbed my face. I was not alone. There were perhaps ten or fifteen others on the bus. Most were middle aged men like myself, but there were a few women and one child. Some of them were blindfolded. Others were secured to their seats with handcuffs. No one was talking. It was silent. Our lullaby was the hum of the engine.
By Sean Rohrer5 years ago in Futurism
