Jason Knightman
Bio
I'm a half-centennial, aspiring new author in the Columbus, Ohio, area. Ultimately, I hope to write three trilogies with my first set of concepts, along with a few short stories.
Stories (19/0)
IT WAS A DARK AND STORMY NIGHT...
When I was a child, perhaps pre-teen, I had the opportunity to watch a few old horror movies — the black-and-white ones that came from a simpler time cinematically and from an equally pre-adolescent society with now-outdated mores. In these films, there would almost always be a scene similar to this:
By Jason Knightman3 years ago in Humans
The Price of Devotion
Calahendra, the spiritual Keeper of the Oracle Temple, serenely watched her latest visitor from above. He remained unaware of her ephemeral presence hovering at the ceiling while he navigated the three Daises of Communion within the temple’s vast, underground central chamber. The interplay of light through her transparent body reflected back as a shimmering, blue-violet gown against her silvery-white skin before trailing off invisibly upon reaching her feet. The ends of her long, straight, stark-white hair seemingly danced in a constant, light breeze.
By Jason Knightman3 years ago in Futurism
Salvation's Sacrifice
The mood atop Irlith Tower, the home of the Irindel Order, was especially somber. Hidden within a grey and breezeless pocket dimension outside of the world of El’Darin, it remained the only safe space left to the group. They had just endured the systematic murders of five colleagues in the past few months.
By Jason Knightman3 years ago in Futurism
Powertrip
Soréla stood on a main promenade of the nobles quarter of the coastal capital city of Port Faeldan, its wide avenue paved with cobblestones, flanked with a variety of sumptuous shops, and dotted with well-heeled residents and their occasional entourages. Having newly arrived from Colchesse last night, she marveled at the deeply tan skin the native residents all carried. It lent a natural glow that she found aesthetically pleasing, and it contrasted starkly from the fair to light tan skin of the people from her native country of Relb. She felt slightly envious of the complexion she did not share. She herself received a few appraising glances from the local gentry, but she overheard no comment, and none broke stride nor conversation in response to encountering her. Seagulls intermittently called out in the distance.
By Jason Knightman3 years ago in Futurism
Love Notes
I don’t like to dwell on it, but when I was barely ten, my mother passed away. Even given the expectation due to her long illness, it still hit really hard. She may not have been perfect, but she was my mother. Irreplaceable. Dad and I both had loved her very much.
By Jason Knightman3 years ago in Families
