James B. William R. Lawrence
Bio
Young writer, filmmaker and university grad from central Canada. Minor success to date w/ publication, festival circuits. Intent is to share works pertaining inner wisdom of my soul as well as long and short form works of creative fiction.
Stories (67/0)
Gone the Tides of Earth
Court had one hers bare, fair-skinned legs propped up, my jacket as blanket merely covering body. I sat on the grassy floor, neck hyperextended back, head rested on the edge to look up at her. Her soft fingers, she played through my hair, whilst puffing slow drags on a cigarette taken from the folder offerings.
By James B. William R. Lawrence3 years ago in Humans
Gone the Tides of Earth
Back in the village the crone was hosting a banquet, families had come far and wide to attend. Most people were sickly and deformed, children cried in their mother’s bosoms, malnourished, riddled with leprosy. Adults begged mercy for the young, the elderly passed away in puddles of vile and excrement. A woman, naked and scarred, fumbles her way through the middle of the deathly orgy to the foot of the crone. She is worst of all, everyone else taking pause from their own misery to pay attention hers. At the final second the poor wretch falls at the sandaled feet of the crone; the old pagan takes up a bristly water pouch, cups the defamed girl’s chin in a hand and spurts a line of water into her blistered mouth. Each forlorn disciples’ heart flutters in beats of humility at the crone’s good, decent human grace, she raises the wretched girl up from under the shoulders to lift her afoot:
By James B. William R. Lawrence3 years ago in Humans
Gone the Tides of Earth
That same very beach before greeting the dawn, the blue sky evenly lit o’er its soft, cool sands. Gentle tide rolled in, in crevices of each wave dazzled the whitish light and thence undulated upon the shore where scale-esque formations, hard and firm underfoot ceased at the brink, an intimate kiss unto the moist beginnings of golden respite. Alas simply, with surety enough I didn’t care to leave out from there, those soothing waters of the Aegean, yet to wade the ways I still had to go on towards dusk would require pain - afoot on dryland I’d glide along at a better pace. Anyways then there will have been more time for it, going that way by the end of it all.
By James B. William R. Lawrence3 years ago in Humans
Gone the Tides of Earth
Atop of the mattress, the nurse peered back at me over the shoulder while I stood in the threshold. An ethereal vision exuding sensuality having already brought me down to those primal instincts where, from tantalization the rest turns necessity.
By James B. William R. Lawrence3 years ago in Filthy
Gone the Tides of Earth
Through the night I held her there, she lay in my arms, a scent of wood and lavender mingled in the air. In damp under the covers lying together felt nice, cool, a transparency awoke of the senses the way that all things become clarified after. Gently, she touched my arm, ‘Do you think the others will be coming in soon?’
By James B. William R. Lawrence3 years ago in Humans
Gone the Tides of Earth
In the beginnings of autumn, we were stationed at an alpine post deposited in the northwestern range of Hellenic Macedonia. Its main function was as supply department, fueling station and stopover encampment accommodating soldiers between movements, those headed to the lines at the garrisons and others who arrived southbound from duty for rest. Therefore, it was mostly like what trading posts of old came to be, for settlers and natives in the early incarnation of the Americas.
By James B. William R. Lawrence3 years ago in Humans
Gone the Tides of Earth
In shelter of the forest I best ably tend her maladies. We are within a sort of alcove that once was a cultivated bower, the surrounding trees very tall and canopy thick, permeable only in gaps to effervescent moonlight. The stars out, shine bright and blue in dense bunches of clusters, air cold and clear.
By James B. William R. Lawrence3 years ago in Humans
Gone the Tides of Earth
Knelt at the edge of morass, I nestle beside the girl and below aside the hanging tree. The ground is matted over and boggy, stuck in the muck clumps of contents that were once a portfolio scattered. Merely only the top parchment is not ruined, yet remains damp, browned just like the rest.
By James B. William R. Lawrence3 years ago in Humans
Gone the Tides of Earth
Below furrowed hills, in the creeks of the ruinous town were the pickled corpses of soldiers, citizens; the heads bobbed like rotting fish, stench of those floating dead indescribable. Every one of the faces was upturned and projected over the surface, mouths bloated, purple, ears swollen bulbous, eyes raw, cracked and red, puffed to an acute degree. Those of all sets shone vacant - glossed over in perpetuity - staring up and away into the depressed canopy, at nothing, in the green wood.
By James B. William R. Lawrence3 years ago in Humans
Gone The Tides Of Earth: A Novel
There they sat, stilled in the cold, minds a hemisphere apart, gone overcast the ether, fell over the city silence. Therein was, irrevocably, the last time the continents-crossed lovers would see each other. They had expected - verily anticipated its eventual fruition. Now come, neither could believe it a thing true.
By James B. William R. Lawrence3 years ago in Humans
Gone the Tides of Earth
By auspice of the crone, I wake next morning at first light - sound of a distant bell erupting into the room, thrice chimed, empyrean, metallic and ponderous over the village, out upon the bay, dawn rays flitting onto the terraces. For a short while silence resumes thereafter, peaceful in its ere regnant holy beauty - two minutes past the short abrupt noise hammers out, again in glory of reverberating trifecta. Whence soon it tolls anew - that loudest, foulest, unholiest of alarms - I am by then quite awake; then peals a last as if for a measure of reassurance, in series of three vindictive, tinnitus-inducing strikes.
By James B. William R. Lawrence3 years ago in Humans