Arden James
Bio
I really miss writing every day so I hoped this would help me get back into it.
Stories (5/0)
The window
There was a window that sat in the dining room. The window seat was topped with a cushion colored off white and covered in falling pastel flowers. Books were splayed across the window cushion and pillows and blankets were kept in the corner of the seat. The girl sat on the cushion but she was not yet heavy enough to depress it with her weight. She was just three years old. She knelt on the seat and rested on her heels, with her hands and forehead pressed against the windowpane. Her dress cascaded down past her knees and onto the window seat. The tulle underneath her dress was itchy but the girl remained unmoved by it.
By Arden James2 years ago in Fiction
The Reaper
As I walked along the path the leaves crunched under my feet. I looked above me and all I could make out were fragments of yellow, red and orange, but it wasn’t the sun. Monstrous oak trees stretched their limbs to touch the sky. They reflected the sun’s rays and slowly floated to the forest floor. The path was wide and elaborate wooden houses were perched in the ever growing oak trees. They must have been man-made but it seemed like they had always existed, yet never aged. I know they must have been constructed after the bomb dropped. At the end of the path was my dwelling, the innermost home constructed in the forest. As I got closer to my home I saw Charlie. He was a tall bald man, round at the waist, aged about 45. He had become a close friend in the last few years but as I approached him I saw an expression on his face that was quite new to me. He was standing on the porch looking as though he was on the verge of tears, dreading my presence.
By Arden James2 years ago in Fiction