Jackson Howling
Bio
Supposed to be studying for an engineering degree. But words are fun too. They keep escaping. So I thought I'd put them here. Favourite words: silver, Juarez, psithurism, twit.
Stories (21/0)
It's Cold Outside
It’s cold outside. That is fine, I don’t mind. If anything, there’s almost something comforting about the reliability of this place that it should always, consistently, be cold outside. It’s cold inside too, except by the little fire. I could make a bigger fire but I don’t want to risk losing control of it and I’m not very good at controlling fire. I used to have a friend who was. But me, I panic, and fire feeds on panic; I start breathing faster and the fire eats my breath and grows even more; I try to harness it and it consumes the reins and laughs. Fire and I never had a particularly friendly relationship. But we have to tolerate each other now.
By Jackson Howling3 years ago in Poets
Ode to the Stories that Never Were
If. If you had been travelling that dusk down the snake-like lane that leads down the hill to the old village. The long black shadows cast by the setting sun would have stretched themselves painfully out over the fields to your left, for the fire-streaked sky to fear.
By Jackson Howling3 years ago in Poets
How To Make A Ghost
The first thing I noticed was not the long darkness, or the peaceful oblivion, or the empty coldness predicted by so many works of fiction. It was the absence of my heart beat. The small, fluttering, fragile thing in its cage of bone that had been my most faithful companion since before I was alive, had died. The reliable, steady rhythm of my life ceased, and in its place throbbed blank desertion.
By Jackson Howling3 years ago in Fiction
