Jerald Wegehenkel
Bio
Part time writer, full time weirdo. I focus on short works of fantasy and fiction, and dabble in a bit of poetry.
Stories (23/0)
A Day Without Sleep
The trash is eternal, only the branding changes. The bottles, the butts, the bags, all rolling in the gutter. Earthly evidence of daylife. A rat is rooting in the trash, mangy hair and mangy face. Whatever treasure it seeks is abandoned as I approach, even to the vermin I am repugnant.
By Jerald Wegehenkel11 days ago in Fiction
Core Memory
The drill had gotten deep. This project was putting the Kola Borehole to shame. When they started no one had expected this, it was just another drilling job, searching for untapped oil. The company eventually had enough of the dry hole and pulled the funding, but an eccentric billionaire took an interest and bought out the project.
By Jerald Wegehenkel21 days ago in Fiction
Why Are All Dwarves Male
A Short History of Dwarves, by Rocknose Threebeers Chapter I - Why are all the Dwarves Male When the first tall folks explorers and Dwarves encountered each other, the tall folks thought that all the short, muscular, bearded folk before them were all male. After all, for the other types of surface folk, facial and gruff voices were masculine traits. When the linguists finally reached the pronoun portion of translation, they assumed that the Dwarves they were working with were He and Him. Eventually, somebody asked the Dwarves.
By Jerald Wegehenkel2 months ago in Fiction
- Top Story - February 2024
Last ArkTop Story - February 2024
The door slammed shut. The entire ark shuddered as the massive bolts slid into place. Silence filled the entryway. The hammering resounding oppressive silence of separation from mother earth. I stared at the gun in my hand, how many had I killed? The chaos at the door, the last surge of humanity, crushing to board. They could not all fit. They would not all fit, I made sure of that.
By Jerald Wegehenkel2 months ago in Fiction
In the Witch's Garden
The Great Red Dragon Branathataxis lay sleeping upon her mound of gold. Heavy rumbles of breath filled the cavern with the occasional clink of coin as massive lungs shifted the treasure hoard. High above, a single being clung to the cavern wall with one hand, the other grasping an enormous sword. The figure was wearing only a loincloth and tattered green cloak, long blond hair flowing freely over the childish face.
By Jerald Wegehenkel3 months ago in Fiction
A Van Sweet Holiday
James Jameson Jr stepped out of the bus into the crisp afternoon air. His duffle was served up next to him with a friendly greeting, a much different experience than the rudeness of the big city he had left the day before. A post office stood before him, the police station next to that, with a covered park bench sandwiched between them. James turned around, there were a dozen low buildings along the single street, sporting a variety of colored awnings like a row of frosted cupcakes. At the far end a massive pine tree stood, its branches forming a centerpiece over the banner announcing “Cherryville Winter Festival”. A classic movie scene brought to life. Spoiled only by the folks carrying cell phones and driving SUVs.
By Jerald Wegehenkel4 months ago in Fiction
Rhythm Soul
I can feel it. Through the soles of my feet, through the palms of my hands, through the impacts against my ears. It flows through the iron, the concrete, even the smog riddled air. The city is not starved for choice, a dissonant buffet consistently rings. Yet Pavlov does not hold me, I choose which bell to answer. I select my desire, tuning out the city’s cacophonous gluttony until I hear it in my soul. My footsteps follow the beat, tracking the visceral call into a glorified alley daring to call itself a street.
By Jerald Wegehenkel7 months ago in Fiction
Delivery
The New American Landscape. Endless rows of gleaming autos crawling the arterials of golden commerce. Leave behind the tired and the poor, escape the huddled masses, find a place where you can breathe free. Unseen in the rearview, in the parking lot of a dying mall, waits a dying man.
By Jerald Wegehenkel8 months ago in Chapters