Kendra J. Anthony
Bio
She was a gnomist, a writer of beliefs.
Stories (55/0)
Mountain Escape
There was no denying the beauty in it all. The snow-filled mountain peaks towered above us as El Sol veiled behind their shadow. A ray of sunshine seeped through the silky clouds, illuminating sunbows off the crystalline lake. Tokala and I stood there in awe, liberated by nature's embrace and mesmerized by the resonance of uninterrupted water beneath the icy sheath.
By Kendra J. Anthony2 months ago in Fiction
Snow Forest
The snow fell softly, like an array of small feathers engulfing the sounds of nature. The dense woodland was eerily quiet as River took her first step, sinking into the light, powdery snow. Peace encumbered her, and a wave of calm swept over the entire forest. Step after step, the woods swallowed her. If she hadn't a sense of direction, you could say she was lost. But she knew these woods, she's walked their paths many times. She was home.
By Kendra J. Anthony3 months ago in Fiction
The Night Was Who
Every night at midnight, the purple clouds came out to dance with the blushing sky. I watched their beauty unfold for the umpteenth time as I reminisced the old times like the chapters of a decrepit book. Walking along the murky ponds edge, I could hear the crickets chirp and the frogs croak, ceasing their nightly songs the closer I ventured; dawning again as distance grew. A melody only a certain few seemed to relish in.
By Kendra J. Anthonyabout a year ago in Wander
Box of Other Worlds
There I was, thirty-two years around the sun, living in a world filled with mysteries; or so that's what I thought. The carrier drone had left a package out on my front porch this afternoon, though I was sure I hadn't ordered anything. I could see the unwanted act through my door camera as I continued to ignore the computer assignments in front of me. I never quite trusted those carrier drones, snooping around in this futuristic era of technology. I could only think of the poor souls who lost their jobs to such devices. Truly a devastation no one could account for, and yet here we were, in this so-called future of “possibilities”; a world consisting of mainly mechanism, and the other seventy-eight percent was homelessness.
By Kendra J. Anthonyabout a year ago in Fiction