Skyler Saunders
Bio
I will be publishing a story every Tuesday. Make sure you read the exclusive content each week to further understand the stories.
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Stories (2946)
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Drillmington: Car Wash
By massaging his temples, Sate felt a sense of what he was doing had no moral justification. He did it for the pure hellish conditions of the practice. He used steel balls and grips to relax his nerves. The faint screams of the women in captivity rankled him. He shut his steel door. Now, it felt like a steel trap. He looked at his shelves and noticed he had plenty of trophies. Amongst the debris of pictures littering the space, he had captured locks of hair, tampons, panties, and the occasional cigarette lighter.
By Skyler Saunders2 years ago in Fiction
Drillmington:The Lone Trafficker
Late at night, Sate made sure he was by himself. He possessed an array of rusty guns. Their serial numbers had been scratched off and they misfired most of the time, but that’s how he liked it. The failure. The sense of accomplishing nothing. Possibly hurting his team or innocent bystanders. It didn’t matter. Just as long as he created as much mayhem as possible.
By Skyler Saunders2 years ago in Fiction
Drillmington: When Julisia Returned from Europe
Julisia left for Prague on a Tuesday for new shoes and to personally pick out a luxury car that didn’t convert into a tactical vehicle. TSL waved her bye as the express van zipped her to the airport. He was by himself and could still smell her on himself.
By Skyler Saunders2 years ago in Fiction
Remembrance for a Disc Jockey; DJ Mister Cee Dead at Fifty Seven
Usually part of the background, yet still energetic, the hip hop DJ is a cardinal element of the entire scene. Mister Cee knew this. He represented a class of artists and presenters that transcended the idea of the DJ playing second fiddle to the MC. Throughout his life, he wanted to make an impact on this genre of music that is often cast aside like a used tissue paper or denounced for its explicit nature and legal troubles. He had a few of them of his own.
By Skyler Saunders2 years ago in Beat
Deep Engineering. Content Warning.
The red ball circled the metal apparatus. “Xeron Neblo,” Richart Gershon announced without emphasis, without passion. Neblo’s eyes lit up like a starship’s thrusters. He stood at five foot eight inches. His eyes looked like cut jade. His charcoal colored skin showed signs of sweat bursting forth, especially on his forehead. He leapt to his feet and ran down the aisle. He looked out into the audience who stood up and applauded this turn of events. The walk up to the stage seemed like a dragging sense of reality; time appeared to slow. The commissioner shook hands with Neblo. His greasy smile shone teeth with blood in between them. It wasn’t much, just enough to know that he had bit down on some flesh just moments before.
By Skyler Saunders2 years ago in Fiction
Drillmington: Covered. Content Warning.
When the workers finally picked up the last kidnapped sex worker, Sate had already cleaned his nails. He was particular about getting the best care for his hair and nails. He moved like a creature who wanted to display power and finesse with all of his being.
By Skyler Saunders2 years ago in Fiction
Drillmington: Wild
“Hi, I’m your favorite neighborhood drill rapper, TSL. I wanted to talk about gun safety—” then a shot rang out. The production staff all ducked. TSL sought cover and clutched his pistol. He looked around to discern where the fire originated.
By Skyler Saunders2 years ago in Fiction
Drillmington: Power and Glory
The house could have been called palatial. In the Greenville section of Delaware, it appeared as a structure made for a doctor or ballerina. It boasted great panes of glass that permitted sunlight to pour into the rest of the house.
By Skyler Saunders2 years ago in Fiction
