Kai Wilson
Bio
Blerd in love with writing, afrofuturism, sci-fi, the paranormal, and fantasy stories.
Stories (7/0)
Ghosts of The Summit Hotel
Jane’s plane landed at Denver International with two large bumps as she had expected. The rule was turbulence in the air means a smooth landing, smooth flight means a bumpy landing. At least, that’s the way it always seemed to be for Jane. She recognized patterns in things very quickly which made the world more predictable and easier to navigate for her.
By Kai Wilson7 months ago in Horror
No Refuge
Charity pushed her way into Mr. Francis’s law office that morning in late August 1712, with a determination she hoped the lawyer would match. Though it was early in the day, the Virginia summer had been a long, hot one. Charity was dripping sweat from her forehead to her neck and everywhere else the sun didn’t shine. She had walked another five miles after her husband Mingo had dropped her off at the outskirts of Surry County. It was as far as he could take her without being late to Mr. Thomas Hux’s place. He had already committed to a job for Mr. Hux and his brother William later that afternoon. Mingo assured Charity that, otherwise, he would’ve accompanied her to the lawyer’s office to press charges against Mr. George Jordan, Jr. himself. Mingo considered himself lucky he hadn’t run into Mr. Jordan since the incident in the Spring. Or maybe it was Mr. Jordan who was lucky. Or maybe it was Mingo’s friends and family that kept Mr. Jordan out of Mingo’s way and vice versa. The unspeakable acts he had committed against Mingo’s daughter, Jane, made Mingo seethe inside. Her mother, Charity, may have even been angrier.
By Kai Wilson8 months ago in Fiction
Wallz
“Ugh, if walls could talk!” Gina exclaimed loudly looking around the small, suburban home. “Jeremy! Jeremy! Get my dolls from the attic and the ones in the garage! I don’t want to leave any of those!” She was seventy-two, but looked and moved like she was seventy-eight. She slowly pushed her walker up the ramp to the house, her eyes darting back and forth to ensure all that was important to her was there. Just stuff to everyone else.
By Kai Wilsonabout a year ago in Fiction
The Tree of Life Signal
Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. That was alright with me. I think I had heard enough screams in the last five years for a lifetime. The last screams I heard were from my neighbors, as their twins were swept from their arms during the nuclear storm. The bomb was designed to destroy our homes and underground shelters. We didn’t stand a chance. We were living in a time of scientific advancement no other species had experienced on our planet, but we weren’t ready for it. Five years before I was born, our civilization uncovered the powers of the microverse and macroverse, reaching our peak of ingenuity. But something else happened that year that would lead to the end of our civilization just twenty years later. The beginning of the end and the beginning of the beginning. That is how life in our Universe works. One ending leads to another beginning.
By Kai Wilson2 years ago in Fiction
Bahati
There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. They had come down from Mount Cameroon around the same time the land of New Benin was founded. Staying close to their original home, they settled in the part of New Benin that is now called Moto. The Fako Dragons rarely ventured out past Moto borders even within New Benin. The volcano would always be a sacred place for them and the people of Moto. These dragons were originally summoned by the high priestess, Adesina Baton, who used their magic to help the Baton family destroy the armies of the Western powers. Thus began the special relationship between the dragons and the Baton family, who have ruled Moto since its founding. The dragons had always bonded more strongly to one member of the family in each generation. These days they were still strongly bonded to Adesina’s great-great-grandson, Dragoni Baton, the current King of Moto. Now, almost two hundred years after she helped found the utopian paradise of New Benin, peace and prosperity were finally spreading to the rest of the continent of Africa. The seeds that were planted with her generation were sprouting up through the land, feeling their first rays of sunshine. The Festival of Peace planned for that evening was intended to celebrate the beginning of this New Era. The Era of Peace.
By Kai Wilson2 years ago in Futurism
Letter from an Emotionally Neglected Daughter on Mothers' Day
Letter from an Emotionally Neglected Daughter on Mothers' Day Hi, Ma. I hope you are doing well, but I know if I ask, you will give me a litany of ailments and stories of perceived hostile acts of grievances towards you. I will ask anyway, disassociating while you talk, a protective habit that I developed while still in diapers. I interject little “mmmhmmms” here and there, but even if I did not, you would continue talking anyway. You don’t really need me there. Just an ear as a prop that makes you think someone is listening. That ear can be attached to anyone and anything: me, my brothers, the dog. Hell, it could be unattached. Even better. A sentient ear with no mouth to give you feedback or criticism. Only words of worship and praise for you, while your criticism is unleashed on anyone and anything within your orbit: your children, your sisters, your brother, your friends, strangers on television, whomever.
By Kai Wilson2 years ago in Confessions