Gunnar Anderson
Bio
I am a young aspiring novelist with an arts degree in English Creative Writing with a focus in both fiction and poetry from Arizona State University where I made the College of Liberal Arts and Sciences Dean's List upon my 2020 graduation.
Stories (21/0)
Songs of the Forest
Snow crunched under their heavy gait as they trudged through the dense forest. The winds were still, but they could hear the faint humming of the trees around them, except for Booth, who broke away the branches that barred his path. He did not believe in the silly fairy tales that the village folk muttered to them. Instead, he simply scoffed and continued to drink the flagon of ale they had served him. Before long, they reached an outcrop where one of the trees had fallen, not yet dead with the brush that still protruded from the branches.
By Gunnar Anderson21 days ago in Fiction
Adrift
Soft snow crunching under my bare feet. A cold wind encasing my naked body and whipping my hair about my head. Another step, and my bones become numb. The tingling raking through from head to toe making it hard to breathe. Was I breathing, or was it simply the idea of it? I was not aware to the feeling, if my chest was heaving at all or if it was a figment of my imagination. Another step, and I’m taking in the trees around me. Barren except for the heavy snow that coated the bare dead branches. The blizzard swelled around them and hid their tops from view; the shapes of their canopy drawing into a blur of darkness. Ahead of me is a vast expanse of white wilderness and a shadow, shorter than the rest. It protrudes from the vast expanse of snow with two limbs stretched out like someone waiting for an embrace. The arms waved and I felt a pull towards them. They seemed welcoming. They seemed familiar. Another step, and I made out the distinction in their body. The slimness of their neck, the faint whipping of hair, the separation in their legs as they stood there trying to steady themselves. Their features were still too dark to make out. A step, and I could make out the shape of their head. Another showed me the blue of their eyes. Step, and I could reach out to touch them, before falling into the cold, snowy darkness.
By Gunnar Anderson3 months ago in Fiction
Missing
The unmarked Crown Vic rolled up the gravel road towards the abandoned farms house and its adjacent barn. A sea of red and blue flashed against the mid-afternoon sun that streaked across the property, casting shadows longer than the buildings were tall. Detective Jesse Andrews parked the car within the shade and just on the outside of the blue sawhorses they used to barricade the crime scene. As soon as she had the door pushed open, a cold winter wind caught her hair and whipper it around her face. She tied it back with a rubber band and flipped up the collar on her coat to keep the breeze off her neck. As situated as she could be, she stepped up to be amongst the other officers.
By Gunnar Anderson4 months ago in Criminal
- Top Story - December 2023
Titan VI
Fires ignite in the belly of the beast, roaring to life in the twilight stars. A midnight owl flies from its perch atop the cone of the vessel while it calls a warning to the nearby forests. The General watches the rocket scream towards the heavens with a knot in his stomach and his heart in his throat. The souls on board are his responsibility, and he cannot let them down or those on the Earth. A crimson light flashes and he holds his breath, still watching. The hull is engulfed in flame, and the vessel turns to dust. Failure!
By Gunnar Anderson11 months ago in Fiction
Hammers and Nails
If walls could talk, I would tell you that, unlike children, I am put together without a heart or mind or soul. They begin with my bones; two by fours and two by sixes nailed together and covered in a rough but easily penetrable skin they called drywall. The clothes they put me in was a plain white gown of paint and a lining of flat baseboards. My brothers and sisters were put together in much the same way, but some of them were closed off to me when they sealed the other rooms off from us. I got to see them from time to time when they put in a door in my sibling. We were able to see things out of a glass box they cut out ahead of me. The sights were less than colorful with the only thing visible was a cinderblock wall and the smallest of triangles of the roof next door.
By Gunnar Andersonabout a year ago in Fiction
