Wesley C. Martin
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Stories (17)
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The Witch and Her Boy
The witch carried her boy through the rain. His small body hung limp in her arms, blood soaking through her shawl where the soldiers’ boots had struck. The forest swallowed them whole—branches clawing, roots slick with rot. By the time she reached the hovel, her breath came in sharp, ragged pulls.
By Wesley C. Martin3 months ago in Fiction
The Revenant's Mark - Book Signing and Tidbits
The Revenant’s Mark was a hit during the Colorado book tour! I first want to thank everyone who purchased my book and all those who I received a chance to talk to in person about my creation. It was an experience for sure as this is the first few times that I have been in public talking about The Revenant’s Mark. I was happy to hear that many took an interest in The Revenant’s Mark. As we chatted and throughout the month of September, I got to know more about Jacob Hawthorne and his experience through The Revolutionary War while battling witches, the occult, and survival itself. I realized what I had really written is a story of Limbo - that place between life and death. I did not set out to tell the story that way when I first began. I found myself surprised by the idea and happy to tell the tale of a man who had lost his life, but found life in the afterlife. Jacob had become more than man.
By Wesley C. Martin3 months ago in BookClub
The Revenant’s Mark
Jacob Hawthorne clawed his way out of the grave like a man only half-born. His fingers tore through frozen dirt, and his lungs strained for air that no longer tasted like breath. Blood crusted his navy coat, the fabric stiffened by cold. When he coughed, the tang of iron and ash clung to his tongue. Darkness still surrounded him—he knew that much—but the moon hung high, and the sky shimmered like cut glass in winter.
By Wesley C. Martin6 months ago in Fiction
Ernest needed milk
It all started with a simple plan: Ernest needed milk. The morning was unremarkable—sunbeams splashing across the kitchen table, a tepid cup of coffee half-forgotten beside a crossword puzzle—and Ernest, feeling virtuous, decided to walk to the neighborhood grocery store. Little did he know that his ordinary errand was about to unfold into a reality-bending carnival of absurdity.
By Wesley C. Martin10 months ago in Humor
First Day of School
School registration day was around the corner, and Billy signed up to be an actor. “An actor,” his father said, “was one that could take on any job in the world and be successful for they had more confidence than the President and more perseverance than the Army soldier down the road to not give up in the face of rejection.” Billy thought his Dad to be like an actor, though truth, he didn’t really know what he did for a living, but he thought the same of him.
By Wesley C. Martin11 months ago in Chapters
Wintrow. Content Warning.
A roar of patrons burst into cheers as a gunshot rang out. Leaf’s squinted to gain a lay of the room. A crowd of interstellar races mixed among a fighting arena. A line formed from a wall of barred windows taking bets to the raised stands surrounding the fighting arena. Televisions beside the gambling wall showed a man being dragged from the arena pit below. A betting line showed +800, the underdog won and seemed to please the crowd. A sign above read, BET HERE.
By Wesley C. Martin11 months ago in Fiction
Wintrow
The city never stopped. The city never rested. The city always worked. Leaf Eminox weaved his way through Wintrow. The city was perched on the far southeast coast of the planet Navalen within the Crimson Kingdom. The night hummed of neon lights that illuminated the wet concrete sidewalks. Leaf saw women dance in holographic advertisements, magnetic floating vehicles float by like a whisper at night, and street corner cameras whirling as he turned every corner. Leaf was a bounty hunter, and he had claimed the bounty on an Offlander – a Tarnathian wanted for treason.
By Wesley C. Martin11 months ago in Fiction
Unstoppable
He found her in the rain, lightning reflecting in her eyes. She was his enemy, yet he shielded her. “Why?” she asked. “Because I can’t hate you,” he whispered. She hesitated—then kissed him. The storm raged on, but between them, a fragile truce sparked into something unstoppable.
By Wesley C. Martin11 months ago in Poets
Red . AI-Generated.
Neon rain streaked the sky, casting electric-blue reflections over the rain-slicked streets of Neo-Tokyo. The city never slept, and neither did its dangers. Data runners like Red thrived in the underbelly of the metropolis, weaving through cyber-traffic and corporate death squads, carrying secrets worth more than their lives.
By Wesley C. Martin11 months ago in Fiction
