David Thomas
Bio
My name is David Thomas and I live in Upstate New York on a small micro farm. I retired from the US Army as a Staff Sergeant after 26 years of service as both an Infantryman and a Chaplain Assistant. It has always been my dream to write.
Stories (7/0)
What the Dead Crave...
What the Dead Crave… Hank Jerrod was the worst Serial Killer never convicted. You’ve probably never heard of him unless you lived in Louisiana in the mid-80s, and then only in the Bayous where families and clans enforced out their own kind of justice in lieu of the law.
By David Thomas8 months ago in Horror
After the Storm
There are many rumors of what it was like before the storm. If you ask any of the survivors, the few that are left, they talk of cities where hundreds of thousands of families lived, worked and played. They spoke of things like cars and train that would move people from place to place on roads; ships that moved across the oceans, and planes that flew across the sky.
By David Thomas11 months ago in Fiction
The List
He’ been following his targets for nearly two months, gathering every bit of information about each of them, charting and memorizing their habits, their routines and even their schedules for the next month or so. He had planted cameras in their offices and bedrooms, wireless microphones, and had even gotten his sponsor's to clone the cellphones so he could record every phone call made and received. He was able to access and control all of it from the encrypted tablet given to him with the target packets.
By David Thomas12 months ago in Fiction
Phantoms of the Seas
“Conn, Sonar, we have a surface contact! Designate Sierra Six-One!” The Captain, a trim man with curly blonde hair and grey-blue eyes looked up from the navigation chart at the announcement over the 1MC intercom. He reached for the handset dangling from the low ceiling and keyed it.
By David Thomasabout a year ago in Serve
The 8 Hour Challenge
“I believe this belongs to you, Senor. It has your next boarding pass in it: you should be more careful.” I looked up at the Stewardess as she handed me a black, leather-bound notebook. I started to shake my head but noticed my name stenciled in gold on the cover and frowned. I wasn’t sure what to do other than accept it.
By David Thomasabout a year ago in Wander
