Chris Smith
Bio
Born in Northeastern Pennsylvania, now residing in Michigan with my girlfriend and two pups. Raised on a steady diet of science fiction, fantasy, and comedy with an affinity for any story that’ll allow my mind to wander.
Stories (6/0)
The Fabled Ones
There isn’t much I can remember about my grandparents. My older brother Kent can recall the Christmas dinners that we used to have at their cabin. My younger sister Mary carries around a ratty old stuffed bunny that grandpa gave her as a baby. Other than that I don’t think she really remembers them all that much. But for me, there are two very distinct things that I remember about them.
By Chris Smith2 years ago in Fiction
The Crashing Bull
There wasn’t a day that has gone by that we didn’t think about the day at the beach. I could describe it to you so vividly because I relive it every single day. The cotton candy sky reflected in my eyes as I stared out to the horizon. The smell of the salty ocean and the absurd amount of food stands that lined the beach infiltrated my nose every time I breathed in. Hot dogs and sea salt will be forever imprinted in my mind. So much so that I can no longer look at a hot dog stand the same anymore. But all of that is a small portion of my memory from that day.
By Chris Smith2 years ago in Fiction
Marigold Traditions
The summer of 2088 was vastly approaching. In just a few weeks it would be in full swing and nothing to stop it. Yet, there was an air of excitement buzzing around. Young Mary would be arriving at the grounds any moment. She was a princess, or at least to us she was. To everyone else, she was the granddaughter of Olive. Olive had lived here at the Gardens Cottage since the earlier half of this century. Over the years, fewer and fewer grandchildren visited. They had all grown up, gotten real-world jobs, and had real-world relationships. And with that, brought real-world responsibilities.
By Chris Smith2 years ago in Fiction
The Train Home
I’d been away for a business trip for the last several weeks. First San Diego, then Phoenix, up to Vegas, a brief stop in Boise, and finally back home to Bay City. Even though I’d be going home to an empty home, I was excited to be home. It was my last trip for work and now I’d finally get to settle in and really focus on things that mattered to me in the business. I’d be able to drawback to when I had started nearly seventeen years ago. For the uninitiated, this meant I was getting the promotion that, in my opinion, was long overdue. And I’d get that office with a view overlooking the ocean.
By Chris Smith2 years ago in Fiction
My Grandfather's Farm
Today started like any other day in the midwest. The moment the sun suspected you might be awake, it would pull the curtain of clouds around it. Leaving you to question whether you ought to bring that umbrella or let mother nature continue to tease you with the dark clouds.
By Chris Smith2 years ago in Fiction
FRANK.
At the end of the 21st century, the world had seen its worst days. The rich and elite formed Royal Districts in ten major cities around the world. New York, Shanghai, Zurich, London, the ones you’d expect. Each district was protected and secured from the commoners of the day. Which translated to anyone who didn’t have a global account worth more than 30 million credits. They stood as a monument to the world’s richest families for nearly 300 years. The Royals, as they called themselves, outlasted the last world wars, ceased power from the last President, stole kingdoms from the last Kings and Queens. You get the picture.
By Chris Smith2 years ago in Fiction
