Jori T. Sheppard
Bio
I make my own cover art to my stories. I don't follow the traditional approach, I need to challenge myself by putting a twist on the prompts I am given. The only rule I follow is "Don't be bad", and that gives me a A LOT of wiggle room
Stories (14/0)
Between the Sea and Sky
I invented time travel, a way to alter history, and I decided to stop the discovery of the Americas. You ever wonder why Christopher Columbus discovered the Americas first, not someone smarter or stronger or better. Well she almost made it, and if it wasn’t for her, that pig Columbus wouldn’t have made it so far either.
By Jori T. Sheppard21 days ago in Fiction
The Recollection of Oliver the Octopus
“If octopus… like me… live for only three years… then I believe it's about time for me to go. A hundred years is more than enough, I say. I just hope that history will remember me…… maybe not. I didn’t do anything heroic”. And he passed away, alone in the darkness.
By Jori T. Sheppard4 months ago in Fiction
Worst of the Worse
It was so blue… She didn’t know a way to say it other than that. The big endless scary emptiness above her was blue- a nice, bright blue- filled with puffy white things- that looked way higher up than she could ever reach. It spread brightness over the rocks- and rubble around her- and turned every grey into blue -and every plant to blue,- and every shadow to blue. It was kinda hard to see.
By Jori T. Sheppard4 months ago in Fiction
The Dragon Guard, Prolouge
“There you are”, a voice rumbled from the sky, hot breath on my skinny, squishy toddler shoulders. I turned around, wide eyed and scared. Its teeth were bigger than my whole body and sharp as pikes. Its head was large as the clearing and cast a shadow, thick and solid as the forest canopy.
By Jori T. Sheppard4 months ago in Fiction
Earth: the planet past the END
Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say and they are absolutely correct because that space ship is not making any noise at all. It's only flying past a farming planet at the slowest, joltiest pace possible.
By Jori T. Sheppard7 months ago in Fiction
Hot Dog
The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window…that is until the truck tore right past the cabin, blew out the candle, and clipped the shingle. Rocking 50 in a road that hadn’t been driven on for years, it rolled down the end of the driveway, through a clump of trees and onto the right road where it nearly crashed into the campsite check in hut. It then tore down the road, past other cars in single parking spaces in front of dirt parks covered in other people’s garbage. It turned and twisted down the road, its raised body bouncing over potholes and uprooted asphalt. It then pulled into a single campsite at the very end and roared to a stop.
By Jori T. Sheppard9 months ago in Horror
