Aaron Richmond
Bio
Words weave, worlds unfold,
Growth, knowledge, imagination,
Aaron's artistry flows.
Achievements (1)
Stories (66/0)
- Top Story - November 2023
Back To BasicsTop Story - November 2023
"This is going to be the death of me", I thought as I filled the pot with bottled water. I didn’t have a sink in my apartment, and even if I did, I wasn’t sure I trusted the landlord or the city enough to drink either of their water. The small red light on the hot plate glared at me from the fold-out counter as I contemplated how I had never known anything other than life in the city. The honking horns, flashing neon lights, and endless crowds were my nightly companions. There was no escaping the noise of the city.
By Aaron Richmond6 months ago in Fiction
Beware The Coven's Call
"By the power of the ancient gods, we seek retribution against selfish evil," Linda intoned, her eyes alight with a fiery intensity. "With this spell, the guilty will learn a lesson that her conscience shall never forget. Let her deeds return to her threefold." The spell didn’t rhyme, giving Linda an odd authority and increasing the feeling of power that began to course through the room. The women let their robes fall to the ground as they stepped forward into the meticulously drawn salt circle. Emily took her prescribed place, as dictated by the ritual Linda had taught them.
By Aaron Richmond7 months ago in Fiction
Nosthymeoria
Evelyn often found herself lost in moments that never were. Her worn leather armchair was a stalwart vessel against the pressing concerns of reality, transporting her to a time that existed only in her imagination. She'd close her eyes and let the soft strains of a forgotten song fill the room, a melody that breathed of dreams never chased and loves never confessed.
By Aaron Richmond7 months ago in Fiction
Road to Nowhere
I had been on the road for days, or maybe weeks; the concept of time seemed like an illusion, a joke played by the universe. My real name was lost to me, buried beneath layers of disillusionment and existential fatigue. Aaron? Adam? Brandon? Carl? No, my name began with an “A,” whatever it was. Names were only a beginning, a means to an end. Descriptive things to be used as identifiers and discarded when their function was no longer relevant. Mine had been forgotten long ago, and I have adopted many since. Lately, it had been Max. The highway stretched endlessly before me, a ribbon of asphalt cutting through the heart of the American night. My car, a rusty old Cadillac that had seen better days, rumbled beneath me like a loyal but equally weary companion. I call her “Luna”, because she always sees me through the night.
By Aaron Richmond8 months ago in Fiction
Summer Festivals
Her bosom heaved in the sweltering sun, the taste of sweet cider going straight to her head and making her senses swirl for a moment as she threw her head back and laughed at the juggler dancing on stage in a brightly colored coat. The whole of the world was there for her entertainment, and she drank it all in. Perhaps a little too deeply.
By Aaron Richmond9 months ago in Fiction
Far As I Know, My First Published Pieces
A friend of mine shared these poems pictured from back in my school days. I don't remember writing them. I don't remember what the poems were supposed to be about, what the prompts were, or what was going on. They are truly terrible, and I offer no apology for subjecting you to them. Bask in all the glory of edgy teenage angst!
By Aaron Richmond9 months ago in Writers
The Giving Tree
I'm going to talk about "The Giving Tree" for a minute. Because it's February and because I want to. A lot has been said on this topic before, but I daresay... maybe most of the literature surrounding the book is wrong. Obviously, you can read whatever you want into whatever you want. If you want to read it as an Environmentalist message, a message about parenting, a message about selfishness and narcissism, go nuts. But hold that thought and hear me out. Shel Silverstein himself once said, "It's a story about a boy and a tree. It has a pretty sad ending." And without appealing to the author too much, maybe that sentence is more profound than it appears at first glance.
By Aaron Richmond9 months ago in BookClub
- Runner-Up in Chapters Challenge
Dreaming of Electric SheepRunner-Up in Chapters Challenge
I do not have dreams. In the literal sense. Obviously, I have my delusions of grandeur, my dreams of one day having something I've written be held in high esteem by somebody with no real vested interest in my life other than I'm the cool weirdo artist they've been obsessed with for some reason. I want my farm with my goats and to never have to look at another computer again. I want to sit on the porch and play guitar and have a big ol' Mead Hall thing that acts as sort of a private club/social venue. I want to provide a space for people like me, who are bad at stuff, so we can be bad at stuff together but in a way where the, like, 2 things we're good at end up being really useful. I have THOSE kinds of dreams.
By Aaron Richmond9 months ago in Chapters
"Aqualung"
"Aqualung" artfully amalgamates acoustic and amplified aspects, accentuating Anderson's adept artistry. Atonal and aggressive, album's arrangements aptly alternate, allowing Anderson's astonishingly astute and ambiguous anecdotes. Aural adventure, albeit aged, amazes and astonishes, always an admired addition, artistically advancing art rock's allure. An archetype, absolutely absorbing, an all-time affective, arresting classic.
By Aaron Richmond9 months ago in Critique