Jeffrey Myles
Bio
not a writer
Stories (8/0)
The Curse of Immortality
How did I get here? Somewhere in a seemingly infinite dark void of what use to be space. I asked for this; I wanted this. Or at least I thought I did. But just like my first time volunteering for combat, I had no idea what I was in for. I thought about it constantly for the decade the process was underway. I thought I understood the risks, I thought I understood the concept of time. Years of injections to prepare my body for the procedure. All the warnings of different scenarios, like being trapped at the bottom of the ocean for eternity. Well, that is ridiculous because no ocean is eternal. But I should have headed the warning a little more cautiously.
By Jeffrey Myles2 years ago in Futurism
Jabber Jaw, Then and Now
This is a tale of stardom and downfall, of addiction and recovery, of violence and redemption. This is the story of everyone’s favorite drum playing, shapeshifting, great white shark, Jabber Jaw. Jabber Jaw’s climb to success was simple, he was one of very few talking sharks during a period when talking sharks were in high demand. The shark craze of the 1970s was every talking shark’s dream. He was invited to Hollywood parties before he even had an agent and landed some well-paying modeling work in the early 1970s. He started playing drums in his friend Clamhead’s band, The Neptunes, and the group achieved a superabundance of success.
By Jeffrey Myles3 years ago in Fiction
First Day
Reginald Walker adjusts his tie in the rearview mirror while smiling from ear to ear. Reggie, as his friends call him, the few he has left anyways, tries to remember the last time he felt happy or excited, but he cannot. Depression has severely crippled his last few years. He looks down at the three fingers on his left hand and tries to scratch the two that are missing but immediately stops.
By Jeffrey Myles3 years ago in Fiction
For the Love of Poutine
The land of the great white north, Canada is usually only known for one food, maple syrup, which is proudly represented by a giant maple leaf on the Canadian flag. Maple syrup is only produced in a small part of the world and more than most of it comes from eastern Canada. You may only be familiar with the maple syrup at your local supermarket but if you travel North, and East or West if applicable, you will be able to find a wide variety of grades and colors of syrup that all have their own uniqueness. Local farmers markets can be found with people selling maple syrup from trees growing on their land. Those with a refined palate will instantly recognize the differences in taste among them.
By Jeffrey Myles3 years ago in Feast
One of Those Days
Past is halfway home before he notices the foreboding clouds hanging low in the sky. It is difficult to see them from far away. At first, he thinks it is just a small, localized storm, but it seems odd that these clouds are drastically enclosed and dark as night. There is a stark contrast with the rest of the city, which is bright, sunny, and warm. As he continues in the storm’s direction, he realizes it is over his neighborhood.
By Jeffrey Myles3 years ago in Futurism
The Adventures of Mr. Pixelated and Alex
As a young child with a vivid imagination growing up in a dilapidated, overcrowded, inner city apartment building; my mother was keen on making up stories to explain the chaotic sounds of the bustling night life. The building itself was frightening to look out, staying dark and ominous even on the sunniest days, and the sounds of the city made it scarier still. She would tell me tales of how the near constant sirens were fairies singing loudly so their magic would help the injured and the mistreated. She described how the pipes that steadily banged under my bed at night was Lothar, and although he was a monster, he protected children. Lothar was the biggest, strongest, and toughest monster; a gigantic beast covered in green scales. Night after night he would defeat any and all other monsters that tried to make their way into my room. The shouting from other apartments were people on treasure hunts, for it was rumored there was treasure buried in various places throughout the city, our apartment complex being one of those places.
By Jeffrey Myles3 years ago in Fiction
Rubble
The man’s scarred face and unkempt appearance makes him look well beyond his age. He turns away to let out an empty cough, then resumes helping the girl tie her pants around her boots; occasionally pausing to brush the tattered hair out of his face. This is the first time in his life that his hair has been long enough to get in his eyes. His daughter laughs as her long hair is done up tightly in a bun and out of the way.
By Jeffrey Myles3 years ago in Fiction