Christopher Grenchik
Bio
I am 19, I graduated from high school last may to complete my four years or study. I am now currently enrolled at community college.
I enjoy writing when the muse is with me. I am also working on three different novels currently.
Stories (2/0)
The Pantry Wars
There is a feud that few people know of. Between the clans of Rutaceae and Anthocarp. Within the clan of Rutaceae the Citrus sinensis family, the Orange family strongly dictate the feudal fights and are the forerunners of the fight. Whereas within the clan of Anthocarp, the Musa family, the Banana family, the proud, and astute leading name of the lower fruit shelves. However, there has been a feud between the two since the last time the pantry was restocked. The Oranges and the Bananas were once neighbors. However, because of their close proximity, the bruisers, and the ninjas would fight incessantly. The sheer number of Oranges forced the Bananas to a lower shelf, and thus claiming superior rule upon the pantry and its contents. The Banana family bruised, and beaten have taken the upper hand in the fighting; singling them out and peeling them one by one. Getting under their skin, and striking fear in their cores. Recently with the death of Lord Sheldon the Swift, the Bananas have been calling for all-out war. Rallying their clan and many food groups to their cause, likewise, the Oranges have called upon their allies for support. The battle for the Shelves has ended, the battle for the Pantry begins.
By Christopher Grenchik6 years ago in Feast
From Eryn Heights
Where to start? Of all the many places in one’s lifetime, why must I be forced to choose from so few of said places? It is so I can relate to others the fruitful experiences that I have witnessed over a short period of time. So if I must choose one place where I learned things that I only fantasized about. The day I separated myself from the daily conformity of life and struck out into the white, untamed, harsh wilderness. I headed out with mild hopes, garbed in a light coat, snow pants, tall boots, and thin gloves, heading towards the wooded valley south of the farmhouse I listened to the sound of my boots steadily grinding out a rhythm in the fresh snow that lay upon the ground. I slowly crossed the plowed field of mud and snow, heading continuously towards the foreboding shadow of the woods on the far side of the field. The icy wind briskly licked my face as I walked onward along the lonely, white escarpment. When I reached the seemingly dark woods I ducked my head into the low overhanging branches and instead of darkness what greeted me was a calm, peaceful woodland. The ground was covered in snow, the sunlight streaming through the trues illuminating every corner of the woods. Giving the woodlands a sense of a beautiful, tranquil, heavenly peace about it. I listened to see if I could hear any sound of wildlife or movement of any type, and I was met with silence, and the soft whisper of the wind upon the snow laden trees. As I ventured further into the woods, I couldn’t help but notice that even as the woods gave the beholder a beautiful atmosphere to witness, I could still feel a certain wild temperance behind it. I was careful in watching my step, so as to avoid creating any severe form of damage upon the undergrowth of the forest, for the way that the fallen leaves and branches made the ground seem as if it disliked being trodden upon. I’ll be frank, there wasn’t entirely too much to see or do within that area, so I moved on till I was faced with a small rivulet running through the trees. I was faced with the decision of either fording the river, building a bridge with fallen branches, or finding a natural stepping stone. Not wanting to get wet, or having to look for long enough branches. I chose the latter option and continued downstream until I found the a large flotilla of fallen branches that perfectly spanned the stream. After a few mistakes in my footing, I finally managed to get across without falling in. Then I went further into the woods to find a place to sit down, and observe the woodlands around me. So I began my search for a tree, or even some tall grass to sit in, then I found it. A tall tree with numerous thick branches perfect for climbing. Shortly after a few times of falling out, I got into a high branch and looked out; The treetops were slowly swaying in the wind as it whistled through the canopy, the branches were laden with snow, the sky was light grey like those in winter, the Ground shone from the sun as it reflected off of its surface. As I sat there amidst its beauty, I couldn’t help but think about what would happen if I was to be killed in this world of white, what would happen if all of a sudden I was to be taken from this untamed world of white into the darkness between worlds and then emerge on the other side, in a radiant world where I will feel no suffering or exhaustion? Who would care? How would it affect my friends? Would anyone even think to mourn my death? As these thoughts raced through my mind I started to head back towards the house I thought 'how does something so beautiful, lead to death?' That is one of life’s biggest mysteries, how things that appear so calm, yet so wild beneath can kill a person.
By Christopher Grenchik6 years ago in Wander