Daniel Bussey
Stories (3/0)
The Daughter of Atlas
I sat alone, taking in the sight of the dying day. Nothing but the rhythmic sound of the tide ebbing and flowing interrupted the tranquility of my Isle. Purples and golds stretched across the evening sky, as sculpted clouds lazily passed through it. On my lips a song began. An old one, from a time before the Greeks came to be. There in the distance, I could see a speck. A small ship loaded down with food and drink. A single man steered it. Odysseus. My dear Odysseus.
By Daniel Bussey2 years ago in Fiction
Against the Pedestrian (Short Story)
Everything was going according to plan. The metallic and smooth black vehicle cruised along the vacant streets like a ship along icy canals. It maneuvered around the shattered cement and gaping potholes, turning on a dime around corners. And then Leonard Mead saw it: the Psychiatric Center for “Research” on Regressive Tendencies, rising like a mountain in the midst of a flat jungle land.
By Daniel Bussey2 years ago in Fiction
The Gray (Chapter One)
“Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say.” The whisper echoed down the corridor of the academy. “What makes you say that?” The response caught the cadet off guard. He turned and met the gray eyes of a man dressed in a grey uniform. “I um, well.” The youth grew silent. “It’s okay, you’re not in trouble.” The man’s mouth smiled, but not his eyes. They only stared and studied.
By Daniel Bussey2 years ago in Fiction