J. S. Wade
Bio
Since reading Tolkien in Middle school, I have been fascinated with creating, reading, and hearing art through story’s and music. I am a perpetual student of writing and life.
J. S. Wade owns all work contained here.
Stories (242/0)
The Slayer Chronicles
Journal Entry - September 14, 2023 Early morning light shimmered off the liquid surface of the swimming pool. I observed the taupe bottom as the stream of air bubbles escaped my wife, Lara’s body. My yearlong battle had come down to this moment. The cause of her defeat was greed and the love of gold. Rays of direct sunlight beamed through the gaps in the pine trees nearby and inched toward the calm waters. Weighted in gold chains, her eyes bulged, and her mouth gaped with silent screams at her plight. Thrashing to and fro, she sought to free herself, but I had done my job well. The gold lock binding her chains held.
By J. S. Wade8 months ago in Fiction
- Top Story - September 2023
Deadline
A pit of dread grew in my stomach at the looming deadline. The assignment was to write a short essay on a place or experience that touched your feelings over the holiday break. Feelings? As a seventh grader, I didn't know how to express my feelings. My world was a conundrum of my body and mind transitioning and at war. Some kids were ahead of others on life's timeline, while others, like me, lagged. Tony, a classmate who lived down the street, had zits and was shaving while my friend Randy and I remained smooth-faced. From up the street, Julie had quit the neighborhood gang and acted differently towards boys. Kelly, who lived across the street, thought Julie was acting silly and continued to hang out with us.
By J. S. Wade8 months ago in Writers
Dark is the Night
Dark is the night. Crickets chirped, and Cicadas thrummed as sixteen-year-old Sue dropped from the window to the ground. Running late to meet her boyfriend, George, she chose to cross the ancient Wild Oak Cemetery. Her cell light illuminated a green-tinged sign at the arched gate.
By J. S. Wade8 months ago in Fiction
- Top Story - September 2023
The MoxiesTop Story - September 2023
Wind feathered Megan's hair as she pedaled her Red Rocket bicycle. Closing her eyes, she threw her hands out like Kate Winslet on the bow of the Titanic. Blinded, she missed the brick in the street. Physics ruled, and her body sailed over the handlebars. Skidding across the pavement, she slammed into a mailbox post. When her vision cleared, three children encircled her, staring. They were the new kids on the block.
By J. S. Wade8 months ago in Fiction
- Top Story - September 2023
Gone Too SoonTop Story - September 2023
A Bridge to Hell I lifted the recent photo from my office desk and thought of my great day with my children. We had spent the last days of summer together on Lake Keowee boating. We didn't know it would be the last day the three of us spent together. Though imperfect at times, they had overcome and survived the antics and hazards of their teen years.
By J. S. Wade9 months ago in Chapters
Alas, Babylon
"Out of death, life; an immutable truth" ― Pat Frank, Alas, Babylon Sirens blared throughout the school, and Mrs. Dixon dropped her textbook. Unlike a fire drill, my eighth-grade teacher ordered us to sit under our desks. My heart raced with the question, Is this it? The nuclear attack? Are we about to all die? If we survive, would our skin fall off? How would we eat, drink, and breathe if everything is contaminated? How would communities divided by race amidst forced desegregation pull together, or would we die?
By J. S. Wade9 months ago in BookClub
Beware The Window
Alone, tired, and drained of emotions, Jacob Jones dropped into the oversized leather rocking chair on the second floor of his townhome. He closed his eyes and inhaled the soft scent emanating from the Himalayan salt lamp glowing on the coffee table.
By J. S. Wade9 months ago in Horror
Some Joe, with Mr. Dickens
Mouthwatering tangs of bacon, aromas of fresh ground coffee, and the seducing scent of waffles cooking invaded my nostrils. My stomach rumbled in anticipation of its reception of the luxurious calories, fats, and sugars available at the downtown diner.
By J. S. Wade9 months ago in Writers
Red and the Wolf
Winded, my lungs burned for oxygen, and I stopped to catch my breath. The wolf's haunting howls grew louder, closer. I was losing the race for my life. Exhausted, I stumbled over an oak tree root and fell to the forest floor. Panting in fatigue, I barely felt the pain in my ankle because terror overwhelmed me. Pushing myself to my hands and knees, I froze as the great grey wolf stepped from behind a tree and circled. His red eyes, like embers, blazed with hunger and hate. Droplets of green drool and foamy white slime dripped from his bared canines that were as sharp as daggers. The predator's stench of oily musk, decayed remnants from blood lust, and sour fur filled my nose, and I gagged.
By J. S. Wade9 months ago in Fiction