Alexander McEvoy
Bio
Writing has been a hobby of mine for years, so I'm just thrilled to be here! As for me, I love writing, dogs, and travel (only 1 continent left! Australia-.-)
I hope you enjoy what you read and I can't wait to see your creations :)
Achievements (1)
Stories (112/0)
Uncle Shu’s Window
The outside world was unknown to her, but she could see a glimpse of it through the window in his room. Just the barest glimpse of the world that should not exist, and she paid dearly for the privilege. More than others, less so than some, but nothing is free. Not in the utopia of the tunnels.
By Alexander McEvoy11 months ago in Fiction
- Top Story - June 2023
On Showing and Telling
I’m reasonably sure that even the meme about how everyone says "show don’t tell" is a meme. Naturally I’m just your average internet goblin so I'm hardly the definitive source. But what I am certain about is that this standard piece of advice isn’t worth the paper it's written on.
By Alexander McEvoy12 months ago in Writers
By Firelight
Shadows danced on the wall of the long house as an old man made the slow walk to the stone circle surrounding the central fire. He was shrouded in a reverential silence spread by his passing. Even the children knew the importance of this walk and followed the silent lead of their elders.
By Alexander McEvoy12 months ago in Fiction
The Call of the Void
Keeper’s Log: Standard Date 2206–05–30 “No one can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. True enough, as far as those sayings go. Sound needs a medium, right? No good without one. Personally, I’ve always been more interested in the one about trees falling in forests. Does it make a sound if it happens, but no one’s around to hear it? Here I am, floating in the silent void, wondering if I’m making a sound. I live in a bubble of habitability, kept alive by machines built by humanity… alone. If I scream in my air bubble, isolated in the cold vacuum, would it make a sound?”
By Alexander McEvoy12 months ago in Fiction
Shrouded Meetings
Mist curled through the valley. It was testing, tasting freedom it had not known in long years. Ages ago, or so it seemed, the mist had roamed free through all the land with only the scattered watchfires of frightened peoples to hinder its passage. Such was not the case anymore, and the mist was forced to relish the times when it could flow like silver streams unimpeded through the air.
By Alexander McEvoyabout a year ago in Fiction
Over for Dinner
The thing that was wearing my mother’s face smiled at me. She, It invited me into the house, too long fingers clicking against the door. I had run before, but it avoided the questions with enough tact to almost convince me. Almost, until it turned its smile and it’s glassy, staring eyes on me.
By Alexander McEvoyabout a year ago in Fiction