Shane D. Spear
Bio
I am a small-town travel agent, who blends his love for creating dream vacations with short stories of adventure. Passionate about the unknown, exploring it for travel while staying grounded in the charm of small-town life.
Stories (52)
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The Deep Below. AI-Generated.
Sarah Matthews adjusted the straps of her diving apparatus, double-checking the pressure gauges on her reinforced copper helmet. The brass and leather diving suit felt heavy on the deck of the research vessel, but she knew it would become nearly weightless once she descended into the depths of the Mediterranean.
By Shane D. Spearabout a year ago in Fiction
The World That Time Forgot
Sarah Matthews wiped the steam from her brass goggles and adjusted the leather strap holding them in place. The familiar hiss of escaping steam and the rhythmic clanking of gears filled the air as she made her way through London's crowded streets. Horse-drawn carriages clattered past, their wheels spinning in perfect synchronization with the giant mechanical clocks that adorned every corner – the heartbeat of a city that had found its technological ceiling nearly a century ago.
By Shane D. Spearabout a year ago in Fiction
The Resonant Strings
Sarah's fingers trembled as she traced the intricate carvings on the instrument's surface. The antique shop's dim lighting cast dancing shadows across its weathered wood, making the strange symbols seem to shift and writhe beneath her touch. It wasn't quite a violin, nor exactly a lyre – its form seemed to defy categorization, as if it had been crafted by someone who had dreamed of an instrument rather than actually seen one.
By Shane D. Spearabout a year ago in Fiction
The Delivery
Sarah Matthews stood at her mailbox, absently flipping through the usual assortment of bills and advertisements when her fingers brushed against something different – an envelope that felt old, its edges softened by time. The paper had yellowed to the color of weak tea, and the stamp in the corner bore the image of a young Queen Elizabeth II, the denomination reading just six cents.
By Shane D. Spearabout a year ago in Fiction
