Wray_written
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Writing fun, good to do. Man do more of it. Man happy.
Stories (25)
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Hunched on a weak flame
Hunched on a weak flame, Naked, scorned and freezing The flame dies with her *** Ai not used to produce the image; if it looks terrible it is because I'm still learning :). Message me on Instragram if you think you know where the image inspiration is taken from :)
By Wray_written15 days ago in Poets
The Harpist
In a dusty hostel in the low end of the machinist quarter, I worked as a server. My father worked in one of the smelters, and each night he would stumble in with his other workers and collapse into a table for hours, and spend their wage on drink and meat. Mother had already passed, and no one else was at home, so it seemed right to be near him and make sure he ate before he stumbled home again to sleep and ready himself for the next shift. When he died, there wasn't much reason for me to stay, but it felt like I couldn't be closer to my father anywhere else, and the men who knew him would check in on me from time to time, so I stayed on.
By Wray_writtenabout a year ago in Fiction
Black sand and slate skin trees
Rolling hills of black sand and slate-skin trees - you can't picture it until you go there. A forest of immense scale, now so devoid of life, totally arid and deprived. The air is thick and starved of oxygen, but crystal clear. From any given point, you could see a kilometre ahead - all the more troubling. There are no birds, no shrubs or thickets, no mammals or bugs to be seen. You'll find no glade pools filled with little fishies; no rivers running through. Not even a basin with a swampy bog. You'll find no signs that life could be sustained there. Because it can't...not anymore.
By Wray_written2 years ago in Fiction
