Sydney King
Bio
I have bad feet but my hobbies won't let me rest.
Stories (4)
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The New House
My eyes ached but I didn’t let myself look down the perpendicular sidewalk as we passed Hobart St. I was away from the city for a year, but I still knew where it was. I kept my eyes trained on the road, my brother too aware in the driver’s seat next to me.
By Sydney King4 years ago in Fiction
The Final Death
I don’t know who wrote the code. I wonder if they are like us, a human species, or if they are something else entirely. Either way, I cannot imagine their purpose in creating this place. I cannot imagine what they hoped to accomplish in sending our minds here.
By Sydney King5 years ago in Fiction
Purple Painted Tulip
I was drunk with power. In the summer before I started college, for the first time in my life, I attempted a realistic pencil sketch, and a distinct picture of my foot in a braided sandal appeared on the page. I spent several days going back to it and gaping at it in surprise and awe. That really looks like my foot! It was an epiphany. I had unlocked a secret level up skill in the game of life, with no idea how I had done it, and now everything would be easy. Well, not easy, per say, but possible. Achievable. I was in disbelief; an untrained, unpracticed artist uncovering her potential.
By Sydney King5 years ago in Motivation
