AgeLessFate
Bio
Name: Jeremy W. Howard
Alias/Username: AgeLessFate or Age
Age: 37 yrs, old
Pronoun: He/Him
Occupation: Content Creator
Education: Some College
Likes: TTRPGs/ Literature/ Movies/ Video Games/ Swimming/ Hiking
Location: Eastern Kentucky
Stories (3/0)
At The End
"You can find me here," the disembodied voice came across the radio, even though the static the old commercial played, "so come on down to Joe's Diner," again, the static overtook the voice in the little hand-held radio. "Mmm, the triple chocolate cake, it's to die for."
By AgeLessFate3 years ago in Fiction
All That Remains
Isn't it funny that we should find the hidden beauty in the things that we leave behind? Labored by the hands of a craftsman, materials gathered and manipulated into form. Minutes stretched into hours which gave way to days that strung into weeks. Rough hands worked the tools of their trade, forged in fires to heat their metal, molds cast to bring shape to life. Used to remove and clear away the uneven perfection of nature, dumped and discarded out of the way. The ground leveled to give a stable base to what was to sit upon it, a much needed and most unremarkable barn. At least, that is the storied life that it was to have, but a path intended isn't always the path that we choose in the end.
By AgeLessFate3 years ago in Fiction
Beats
“I hear it,” remarked Elizabeth, “it’s faint,” her hands clasped to the worn black headphones with only one ear cup, the leather of the remaining cup had nearly flaked completely away, due to the ravages of time and neglectful care. “Hold it there,” a single slender dirty hand reached out, the fingers slipped upon the bicep, with her thumb snaking around to the triceps, with a squeeze. The curly disheveled pixie cut turned to regard him, not unlike the ocean spray as it collided upon the rocks, “there is something out here,” that smile was not unlike that from the ancient tale of ‘Helen of Troy’, another squeeze as she closed her eyes. Another beat rippled through the cup, garbled and faint, the equipment was old, the cord was more wires than plastic, as it cascaded down the distance from headset to an unremarkable mini black amplifier, the kind street performers used daily during the ‘Time of Convenience’, with another beat her eyes shot open.
By AgeLessFate3 years ago in Fiction
