Clay Wilkinson
Stories (9/0)
Operation: Rabid Dog
My name is unimportant, I cannot reveal when or where this operation happened. Suffice it to say that there is no record of this operation. We are a black ops unit that carries out missions that not only will you never hear about but normally you don’t want to hear about. Most people prefer to go along through their lives in blissful ignorance of how things are accomplished.
By Clay Wilkinson3 years ago in Fiction
Monster of the deep
I spent most of the 1990’s as a member of the U.S. Coast Guard, I was stationed in the Central Florida area the entire 8 years. This story comes from my time aboard the first ship I was stationed on out of boot camp. I was stationed on that ship for just over 3 years, it was a working class ship affectionately called a “black hull” due to the fact that the ship was painted black instead of the normal white that most of you are used to seeing on the news. This class of ship maintains the aids to navigation markers and buoys that mark the channels, shallow water, dangers to shipping, etc. We “black hull sailors” were a hard-working type that went relatively unknown to most.
By Clay Wilkinson3 years ago in Serve
Take the risk
As with every afternoon at 2pm, I made my way down to the Central Ave Java House from my 5th story office overlooking Central Ave. It was my daily ritual for my afternoon break to go get a cup of coffee and a slice of chocolate cake at the Java House. I needed a break from looking at the bland, sparsely decorated, white walls of the publishing house I worked at. It was a mundane existence, same thing day in and day out, filing papers, and keeping track of records for the editor, but I was continent with my position. By mid-afternoon I was looking forward to getting out of the office for a few min and so I was a daily regular at the coffee shop across the street. They all knew me and knew what I wanted so I never had to actually order, I just said my hellos to everyone, paid and picked my spot to sit and enjoy my afternoon treat.
By Clay Wilkinson3 years ago in Humans
Heart of Death 2
The small group, consisting of the four Navy officers, Chris Soren, Becky Par, and Jim Blankenship, had packed the night before and were ready to move out around daybreak. The loaded what fuel the community could spare, a bit of food that Lorrie packed for them, and started off north up the Kissimmee River. They moved at speed that allowed them to conserve fuel as much as possible, as they went Jim Blankenship noticed something odd about the wildlife on shore.
By Clay Wilkinson3 years ago in Fiction
Box of knowledge
It was a cold, wet, winters day when Sonja got the phone call about her mother’s passing. She had not been back to her home state of Florida for several years now but was now planning a trip she was not looking forward to making. ‘At least winter in Florida as cold as it is here in Ohio’ she thought to herself as she waited on hold with a funeral home. Her children, now ages 8 and 2, had never met their grandmother. Just another regret that Sonja would have to live with now. She and her mother had fallen out of touch over a decade ago, and now Sonja could hardly remember why. Something stupid most likely, they were so much alike, her mother and Sonja. Both so stubborn, pig-headed, not willing to give in and see things from the others point of view. She had not shed a tear since learning of her mother’s death but the regrets of not having had a relationship with her were starting to weight on Sonja.
By Clay Wilkinson3 years ago in Families
Corey's cake
Corey arrived home from work at around 2 am, he is the closing manager at a local restaurant, he had not had time at work to really eat anything, so he had brought home a sandwich and a slice of chocolate cake. Yes, he knew he didn’t need the cake, but they made their deserts from scratch at the restaurant and the chocolate cake was by far the best they had, or at least in Corey’s opinion. He got himself set up in front of the tv in the living room, turned on the tv set, made sure it wasn’t too loud and prepared to eat his sandwich. After a bit he thought he would like a drink and went into the kitchen to get a glass of juice, upon making it to the fridge he saw the note held to the fridge door by a magnet “can you start a load of laundry, love you”. After doing so he sat back down to continue eating, “Damnit” he thought to himself as he remembered the drink he never poured.
By Clay Wilkinson3 years ago in Humans
Slor and Jarine
The day started like many others, a bright, clear blue sky, a few white puffy clouds lazily floating across the sky, with Slor sitting on the porch in his old rocking chair enjoying his morning coffee. It was about 7 am and Slor was thinking about what he had to do next around his farm. He had been up and working since before the sun came up, he had already put some hay in each of the horse’s stalls, gathered the eggs from the chickens so his wife, Jarine, could make breakfast, and milked the cows. He was now relaxing, staying out of Jarine’s way in the kitchen, she always just yells at him to get out of “her kitchen” anyways, so he normally tries to stay out of the way but always tries to steal a piece of bacon on his way out of the kitchen as Jarine smacks his hand with a spatula. Life was good for Slor as he smiled and rocked slowly awaiting Jarine’s call for breakfast.
By Clay Wilkinson3 years ago in Fiction
Aislinn and Iovita
Chapter 1: Loggers of Silverfoot As Iovita rounded the base of the large tree the axe that the logger had thrown at the agile elf, struck the tree with a thump. Iovita had no intention of killing the loggers that were unnecessarily cutting down the trees, but she wanted to make it to unprofitable for them to continue. The loggers on the other had were afraid for their lives, they were not fighters, they are just simple folk, they are just out trying to survive. Little did Iovita know that these men were not out here of their own volition. They are forced laborers. The Champoke organization has been strip logging the southern end of Silvanian Forest for over a decade now. The Dryads of the Silvanian have been doing their best to try and keep up with the devastation, but trees do not grow back overnight. The logging was now getting too close to the place that Iovita has been staying, this is something that she can not allow, she has sat around long enough now.
By Clay Wilkinson3 years ago in Fiction
Heart of Death
It was 16 years ago when the world died. I was only 10 years old at the time, but I was old enough to know that the world was no longer the same. My family and I lived in a nice, small town in central Florida, nestled along the lakes on the east side of the center line of the state. I had grown up fishing, hunting, playing with my friends, riding our bikes, shooting hoops, and playing in the local Little League. It was a quiet, laid back, and easy-going type of existence. It was nice, I miss that boring life now.
By Clay Wilkinson3 years ago in Fiction