Jason Basaraba
I have enjoyed writing for most of my life, never professionally.
I wish to now share my stories with others, lets see where it goes.
Born and raised on the Canadian Prairies, I currently reside on the West Coast. I call both places home.
In the Early Morning Mist
Will you remember. Lest we forget. Gathered together in the early morning mist. We watch you with poppies pinned high on your chest,
Jason BasarabaPublished 29 days ago in Poets
Hatfields and Macaws
Judy felt her heart beating out of her chest, excitement, nervousness, fear. Exhausted after two flights and now a bumpy ride in a beat-up battered jeep, roaring down windy, rocky almost nonexistent roads. Not much more then a goat trail. Her teeth rattled, feeling like a candidate for a concussion as her brain jostled in her head. Her driver and sole companion was a very stoic, silent local who was verging on being a mute. No more than four words passed between them since her tiny plane took off from Sololá’ and landed on the dirt runway that was cut into the Guatemalan forest, over two hours ago.
Jason BasarabaPublished about a month ago in Fiction
The Legend of Foggy Waters
The oars dipped silently into the waters of the Bayou, swirling ripples gently trailed behind the boat as it glided within the channels. Light from the full moon shone so bright it broke through the canopy of trees that sheltered the black water below.
Jason BasarabaPublished 2 months ago in Fiction
The Secret Dark Mind of Walden Mitty
This idea is based on the movie a Hans Christian Anderson Tale, twisted to fit in for a Halloween Theme. The original Author of 'The secret life of Walter Mitty' was James Thurber. This story is what happens when one over indulges on a Thanksgiving Dinner (Canadian). Way too much food and beverages before sleep causes weird ideas to float around. Dreams morph into strange things indeed.
Jason BasarabaPublished 2 months ago in Fiction
36 Hours
This is not who I am, it is who they forced me to become. They are the reason that we are here. It is not in my nature to do what I now do. But I cannot stop.
Jason BasarabaPublished 2 months ago in FictionThe Shepard and his Muse
The brightness of the full moon peeked through the night, casting a beam of light upon the bookshelf in a child's bedroom.
Jason BasarabaPublished 2 months ago in FictionFalling
Life is too short; the end comes too soon. Faded memories was all he had left, and a question, ‘Why does it need to end?'
Jason BasarabaPublished 3 months ago in Fiction
Two of a Kind equals a Pear
Some call it a felony. I call it a promise. No matter the outcome, I would do it again. Besides, it really isn't kidnapping. Well, he was napping, but he is no kid. He hadn't been one for about eighty-seven years. I don't know the exact age when someone is no longer referred to as a 'kid.' I am guessing around five years old. The point is, I did not kidnap anyone.
Jason BasarabaPublished 3 months ago in Fiction
