wilson wong
Bio
Come near, sit a spell, and listen to tales of old as I sit and rock by my fire. I'll serve you some cocoa and cookies as I tell you of the time long gone by when your Greats-greats once lived.
Stories (36)
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Wandering Shadows: Lost on the Path of Life
The sky was overcast, a dull gray stretching endlessly above, mirroring the emptiness Elias felt inside. He walked aimlessly down the narrow trail that cut through the forest, leaves crunching beneath his boots, though he hardly noticed. It had been months since he’d left the city, abandoning a job, a relationship, and a life that once seemed stable — or at least survivable.
By wilson wong6 months ago in FYI
Time Pass
The café on the corner of Church Street wasn’t much to look at. A faded red awning, a flickering neon sign that read “Café Mocha,” and wobbly tables that had seen better days. But it had the one thing that mattered: time. Time to kill, time to waste, time to pass.
By wilson wong6 months ago in Fiction
Conversation with Nana
The rain had just begun to patter against the windowpanes when I walked into the living room, the scent of freshly brewed tea lingering in the air. Nana sat in her favorite armchair by the fireplace, her grey shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders, a book resting on her lap but forgotten. Her eyes sparkled, not with the firelight, but with the quiet joy of seeing me.
By wilson wong6 months ago in FYI
You Ask, "I" Answer
The room was dimly lit, the air still with a peculiar silence that felt neither empty nor full. Just… expectant. Amara sat cross-legged on the hardwood floor, her laptop open in front of her. The screen glowed softly, casting long shadows across her room. Her heart beat steadily, but her mind raced with questions — not mundane ones, but the kind that visited her only in the late hours of the night.
By wilson wong7 months ago in Horror
The Ant and the Grasshopper
Once upon a time in a wide green meadow, where the sun shone warmly and flowers bloomed in vibrant colors, lived a tiny but diligent ant and a carefree grasshopper. The meadow buzzed with the sounds of bees, chirping birds, and rustling leaves. It was summer, and life seemed easy.
By wilson wong7 months ago in Art
Who Is Your Husband
It was the kind of rainy afternoon that clung to your bones. Mira sat in the corner café, fingers wrapped tightly around a cup of half-drunk coffee, staring out at the slick pavement. She hadn't planned on being here. Not in this city, not in this moment, and certainly not in this emotional fog.
By wilson wong7 months ago in Futurism
The Tale of Chanda Uncle from Atar
In the golden dunes of the vast Sahara, nestled in the remote corners of Mauritania, lies the ancient town of Atar. It is a place of shifting sands, star-filled skies, and stories passed down through generations. Among the many tales whispered by elders around evening fires, none is as curious or beloved as the tale of Chanda Uncle from Atar.
By wilson wong7 months ago in Humans
I Water Plants Like I Love People
There are four pots on my balcony. One is a basil plant, green and honest. It leans out toward the morning light as if begging for just a little more time, a little more warmth. I water it every day. Religiously. Sometimes twice. I stroke its small leaves and whisper apologies when I forget.
By wilson wong7 months ago in Writers
Alone but Not Lonely
I used to dread silence. The kind that comes late at night, when the house settles into creaks and groans, and there’s no one to talk to but your own thoughts. Back then, I thought being alone meant I was unloved, unwanted, or somehow broken. I feared solitude the way a child fears the dark — not for what it is, but for what they imagine might be hiding inside it.
By wilson wong7 months ago in Fiction
The Song That Saved My Life
By: [Your Name] lee hong I don’t remember the exact day I gave up. Not in a dramatic, headline-making way. Just in the slow, quiet way people sometimes do. I stopped replying to messages. I let dishes pile up. My plants died — first the succulents, then the ones that actually needed care. Somewhere between December and the following March, I stopped opening the curtains.
By wilson wong7 months ago in Fiction
The Year I Lived Without Saying No
By: [Your Name] wilson wong I didn’t plan to change my life. I didn’t read a book, or hit rock bottom, or have some teary moment of clarity. It happened on a Tuesday. Rainy. Bland. I was standing in front of my fridge, staring at half a bag of spinach and leftover Chinese, and realized I had spent the last four weekends doing absolutely nothing. I mean, nothing. Declining invites. Ignoring texts. Saying "maybe next time" to things I knew I’d never do. And that’s when it hit me — I was letting life pass me by, one quiet “no” at a time.
By wilson wong7 months ago in Earth
A Day in the Life of My Anxiety
The first thing I notice is the weight. It hits before my eyes even open — a sinking heaviness on my chest, like something is pressing down to keep me in bed. My mind hasn’t even said good morning yet, but my body already knows: it’s going to be one of those days.
By wilson wong7 months ago in Fiction
