Cameron Glenn
Stories (16/0)
Poem of a crazy dream
You were there, your face looked like a leopard then it transitioned into an angel moon. Ghosts danced about then fire fell from the sky and the fire was glowing multicolored orbs. Where they struck steam sprouted and out leaped multicolored frogs, bright and glowing and poisonous. The ground shook and the frogs vaporized. A deep low voice grumbled “This is the sixth extinction.” The forests burned and glaciers fell from the sky, and we were in a cold ocean, green glowing sharks flying around us. The ocean drained and we laid on a cracked desert littered with dried bones of sharks and dinosaurs. You looked at me and said you loved me anyways. But I realized I wasn’t there. You spoke the words to no one. Maybe to all earth and existence. The little left of it. Then I was in New York, but New York was like Disneyland but with metal towers and everything a giant mall and around every corner was a new celebrity, and I walked until New York ran out and I was back in the desert with the giant shark bones, but I was so much smaller. I looked down and the New York Disneyland mall was the size of a shoe. It sunk in the sand and out crawled a shoe sized scorpion. I noticed the sun had set and visible galaxies swirled above. Either the reflection of a galaxy shimmered on the scorpion’s black mirror like shell, or it was transparent, and a galaxy swirled inside of it. “Where are you?” I asked. Laughter rained down on me. “You are alone,” a voice said. “All else is an illusion.” A string orchestra played a sad song and I cried.
By Cameron Glennabout a year ago in Poets
Jelly Fish
Brothers Noah and Steve walked into the jellyfish exhibit in the aquarium. Noah was twenty-two, Steve was twenty-five. Tubes that ran from the ceiling to the floor held jellyfish as well as glass containers mounted in the walls. Blue ripples lighting made a watery effect on the floor. The lights in the tubes and cases changed from aqua marines to blues to lavenders to reds and greens. The jellyfish floated oblivious to the changing lights, their movements like a pulse from a hand clenching and unclenching. The jellyfish were average human hand sized and milky almost transparent white. Or lungs breathing. Noah took out his iPhone and filmed. Steve noticed the filming and looked at the display with narrower eyes and a head slightly tipped, trying to see the art his brother saw.
By Cameron Glenn2 years ago in Fiction
Dream Train
I had a dream I was living in New York in an apartment complex with the cast of Seinfeld. But I was a tourist. I went on a walk, and it was like a giant mall but with natural history museums and dinosaur bones every now and then. I kept running into Taylor Swift and her posse of model friends. I got lost and ran into George Costanza and asked him what my address was, and he thought I was checking to see if he had me in his contacts and he yelled at me and left. So, I kept walking and exploring until New York just ended at a parking lot.
By Cameron Glenn2 years ago in Fiction
The Dragons Will Save Us
There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. Before the dragons came, seeds that waft from the Dandy buds disintegrated into dead black flecks upon the mere touch of the cracked arid dirt. But then, miraculously, the dragons came. They flew in on lush wet winds and blew magical renewal into the Valley. They transformed death into blooming life so vivid, human eyes are too small to soak all the wonders in; human minds too limited to comprehend the vastness of the Valley richness. Before the dragons, lonely hot breezes brushed sand grains over seemingly endless emptiness. After the dragons, from out mossy cliffs cloaked in heavy rainbow flower vines, burst waterfalls. The water splurges heavily down on gleaming golden rocks and fairies skitter about in happy dances among the rainbows that rise in the created waterfall mists. The dragons roar their triumph as they prance and dart in the fiery florescent clouds which look down on the wonderous green paradise.
By Cameron Glenn2 years ago in Fiction
Home
Home is where you’re comfortable. Where you’re at ease and see How you can accept and relish beauty It is tied to identity and who we wish to be It is a place, a hope, a memory, a destination It is the self and others It is transient yet an anchor I once knew a restless girl Who traveled the world in search of home. She found it within herself And she was free. Home here grows and it knows you and it wants you here where you are comfortable and free. Home here is happy and shows you who you are and where you want to be.
By Cameron Glenn3 years ago in Poets
Swany Birds
The wagon hit a bump and I near hit my head on the carriage ceiling and I didn’t want to be there if I’m honest. “There” being on the road to see Jagar, the patriarch mystic magician of our big village. He’s supposed to bestow gifts and prophecies on us when we turn eighteen. “Us” being the class of Nobles. See, we’re special, we’ve been told, because our grandfathers made a lot of money by pillaging and burning other smaller villages a long time ago. The elders say the surrounding little villages were full of bad scary people who wanted to destroy us but I don’t believe that. It’s pretty clear to me we were probably more the bad guys in those wars. If you saw how angry my father got about little dumb things you’d think the same way as me.
By Cameron Glenn3 years ago in Fiction
Bull in the Sun
The swarm of Minotaurs engulfed them, red eyes ablaze, snorting guttural grunts and viciously swinging sharp axes. “Press E space R arrow key down,” instructed the measured voice of Jake, Samantha’s fiancé. They played the action fantasy game together online. They were close yet they were far away. Samantha obeyed the orders and her character, elf princess Sparzy, threw her head back, raised her arms and leaped into the air while radiating a golden glow. Sparzy hammered back to the ground and a ring of pulsating light flung from her white skirt, knocking the Minotaurs to their hairy bony knees.
By Cameron Glenn3 years ago in Fiction
Riley At The Party
The Great War to end all wars cracked the world apart. The old dust shook off. New green stalks sprouted up from the cracks. The youth, who were sent by the war romantics to slaughter, came back from the fighting to peg romanticism as a ruse. We woke up. We sought to replace our yells of battle and pain with roars of victory at having survived. We sought to shed off old ways and celebrate life rather than cower from death. Literal new electricity pulsed and illuminated a new world of innovations, rebellions, freedoms and inner revolutions. We saw the ridiculousness of prohibition and so we saw the folly even deeper of laws and men. Confronted with mortality we questioned stale ideas of rigid morality. Embrace vapid minds for vapid times. Young, pretty, reckless, thirsty, we welcomed the alcohol burning the tips of our tongues. This ignited mindless sparkling conversation which birthed passions and actions as spontaneous and random outbursts of dancing and kissing and smashing indulged us. The world silly, we took our own silliness seriously.
By Cameron Glenn3 years ago in Fiction