Chance Garrett Wilhite

Joined January 2021

0 stories

Bio

writ·er | ˈrīdər | (noun): one who writes

Currently residing in Dallas, Texas.

"Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror. Just keep going. No feeling is final." (Rainer Maria Rilke, Go to the Limits of Your Longing)

Stories (14/0)

Santa Rosa, NM
submerge, suspend, choose. to royal shades, descend or claw up, breach the sky?
By Chance Garrett Wilhiteabout a year ago in Poets
Sweet Puppy
Parker Stanislaw Magoo is generally not a "good" dog. He is my best friend, and I've loved him since he first tripped over his ears and into my heart almost seven years ago. But I am not blinded by my love for him.
By Chance Garrett Wilhite2 years ago in Petlife
Glue
“Please. Not yet,” I whisper as Technicolor reveries dissolve into familiar successions of gray. - - - - - - aching, begging that these might
By Chance Garrett Wilhite2 years ago in Poets
Click Thrice and There
There’s no place like home. It is true. There isn’t one, nope, nosiree, not a single place like home. How could such a place exist, when
By Chance Garrett Wilhite2 years ago in Poets
Damp Grass and Shooting Stars
I laid down in damp grass last night, for no apparent reason, and gazed into the polluted skies above as glaring and gloating florescent lights
By Chance Garrett Wilhite3 years ago in Poets
We Get What We Get...
Miss Teacher told us one morning, while we sat on the floor in front of her kneading Play-Doh in our hands, “G-d made man from mud!”
By Chance Garrett Wilhite3 years ago in Humans
Manic
The rustling leaves tossed by the gentle breeze outside my window are no lullaby tonight. A song both old and new invites me,
By Chance Garrett Wilhite3 years ago in Poets
Mist
I used to see you in my dreams. I would reach out to touch your face, our eyes would meet, and your smile would beam. I could almost touch your cheek.
By Chance Garrett Wilhite3 years ago in Poets
Plucked
How vile, how wretched it is, to watch words be pulled from my body. Plucked, quickly and callously, they form a bloody pile in front of me.
By Chance Garrett Wilhite3 years ago in Poets
Goodbye, Moon
I watched a hand emerge from the clouds - mangled, gray, and greedy. Slender, whispy fingers stretched towards the Moon. Slowly, I watched the hand close,
By Chance Garrett Wilhite3 years ago in Poets
A Creation’s Condemnation
Omnipotent. Omniscient. Omnipresent. If such essence(s) exist... ...then it must be that some deity (a Monster, honestly)
By Chance Garrett Wilhite3 years ago in Poets
The Lyre of Orpheus
I know where the lyre lays. If you listen, you can hear it: those frayed strings
By Chance Garrett Wilhite3 years ago in Poets

Chance Garrett Wilhite

Bio

Stories .css-19zxm0z-Text{display:inline-block;color:var(--text-default-mute);}(14/0)

Santa Rosa, NM

Sweet Puppy

Glue

Click Thrice and There

Damp Grass and Shooting Stars

We Get What We Get...

Manic

Mist

Plucked

Goodbye, Moon

A Creation’s Condemnation

The Lyre of Orpheus

Stories (14/0)