Tripp Fulton
Achievements (1)
Stories (8)
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That Glorious Fire
Here's a story about a guy I only met once who still got me into college and, maybe more than any single other person, set me on my life's path. His influence on me happened purely by accident, because of a late flight. His name is Robert B. Parker, he was born in Maine and lived most of his life in Boston, and he was a writer. I'm gonna tell you all about him.
By Tripp Fulton3 years ago in Humans
Prosopagnosia Blues
The mirror showed a reflection that wasn’t my own. Lucy saw it too. This was the third day. He was almost me. That was the worst part. We had similarities, overlapping features and mannerisms. He moved when I moved, if I waved at him he waved right back in tandem, but he wasn’t me. Except he also was. He wasn’t my father (I looked like my mom), he wasn’t my brother or cousin (I was an only child and if I had any other relatives I’d never met them), no, he was a me from another world, like I had a twin separated at birth who’d lived an entire different life. Not a nice one either.
By Tripp Fulton3 years ago in Fiction
Henderson the Purple Rain King
Chapter 1 Every night at midnight, the purple clouds came out to dance with the blushing sky. They rolled in from either the east or the ether just after Memorial Day, positioning themselves above the Inner Harbor and appearing with clockwork regularity thereafter. No one knew why or how or what it meant but by the dog days of that long Baltimore swelter of a summer most people were ignoring it and going about their lives as usual, not even the tourists were snapping pics for the Gram anymore. Never underestimate humanity’s ability to write off the miraculous, to grow accustomed to the sublime.
By Tripp Fulton3 years ago in Fiction
Barmhärtighet. Runner-Up in Reset Your Password Challenge.
Los Angeles, 12/30/49 The job: clip a degenerate Swede ex-boxer named Goran Lundberg. Nickname: The Mountain Man, purebred dumbass unimaginative, the exact English translation of his actual name. No surprise, towhead idiot had a coma case’s imagination, could only outthink a brick if you laid it on its side.
By Tripp Fulton3 years ago in Fiction
Barmhärtighet
Los Angeles, 12/30/49 The job: clip a degenerate Swede ex-boxer named Goran Berglund. Nickname: The Mountain Man, purebred dumbass unimaginative, the exact English translation of his actual name. No surprise, towhead idiot had a coma case’s imagination, could only outthink a brick if you laid it on its side.
By Tripp Fulton3 years ago in Fiction
