Kent Brindley
Bio
Smalltown guy from Southwest Michigan
Lifelong aspiring author here; complete with a few self-published works always looking for more.
https://www.instagram.com/kmoney_gv08/
Achievements (1)
Stories (186/0)
Hello, Walls...
If the walls of the off-campus housing unit could talk, they would have many twisted, sordid tales to share. In its rich history, it had seen so many new residents; on average, its lease changed hands every couple of semesters. As for what the walls, door, and floors of the second story walk up went through...
By Kent Brindleyabout a year ago in Fiction
The Last Window Into War
The outside world was unknown to her, but she could see a glimpse of it through the window in his room. Seven year old Regan Osienna Ibram had thought to understand machinery and technology. It turned out that her favorite machines included computers, doorbell cameras, DVD players, or, her absolute favorite, radios; even an antiquated Tube TV or VCR. She had been foolish and what she appreciated were machines that she could control. Outside of the window of her half-sanctuary and half-prison was an army of machines who sought to control her; and all of humanity. She didn't necessarily appreciate machines; like so many other misguided people, she liked the aspect of control.
By Kent Brindleyabout a year ago in Fiction
Wonderful
Christmas Day; December 25. As a child, this was about waking up at the crack of dawn (and awakening your parents, to varying degrees of patience, as well) in a race for the tree to see what spoils awaited. I vividly remember the year in particular that I unwrapped three of LJN's "Thundercats" heroes and the four original "Real Ghostbusters" action figures from the "Kenner" line (I think it was 1987, because I have a vivid memory of my little sister being somewhere nearby and this may or may not have been the year that she had arrived on December 8th). Another vivid Christmas memory included the year that I unwrapped The Ghostbusters' "Firehouse Headquarters" and the NES with Super Mario/Duck Hunt whilst seated on my late Grandmother's living room floor.
By Kent Brindleyabout a year ago in Humans
Blue
Feeling in Color What was once my favorite Could it now mean "sad?"
By Kent Brindleyabout a year ago in Poets
Off to the Cabin
"We drove up the snowy, winding road towards the cozy A-frame cabin; Patti, Skeeter, Bebe, Chalkie, Connie, and, of course, me, Doug. Bebe's father co-owned a great AirBnB and the six of us were off for an ALL-EXPENSES PAID Winter vacation getaway between semesters. Finally; we were six friends off to a Winter Vacation get away TOGETHER!"
By Kent Brindleyabout a year ago in Fiction
The Package
Bethany "Betsy" Lewis hated watching her little brother; ALMOST as much as she hated, at age 14, being called "Betsy." But what she hated the most was Sheila Abshire, a neighborhood know-it-all in her class at school and who usually got saddled with babysitting her own little sister. Sheila logic: "The two girls could watch their younger siblings together;" for which Sheila was more than willing to take the credit if nothing happened; or pass the buck is 6-year-old Brian Lewis and Kealie Abshire got into mischief. Brian and Kealie were a six-year-old boy and girl; they never really liked one another's company so much as live to get into mischief together or quarrel with one another. Of course, the mothers, Robin Lewis and Marcia Abshire never saw things that way.
By Kent Brindleyabout a year ago in Fiction
The Peak
This mountain we climb As we seek to achieve our Dreams and ambitions. This haiku dedicated to the climb that we each go through as we strive to manifest our hopes, plans, dreams, and ambitions. I know of my own hopes plans dreams and ambitions and I know the struggle to make them a reality. I'm sure that some of you know the same struggles and here's to hoping that we can all make these a reality. As always, thanks for reading. Feedback and comments welcome as I seek to improve my craft. As always, best of luck and "write on, fellow Vocalites."
By Kent Brindleyabout a year ago in Poets
Paranon
Paranon, the distant world of dragons. Fury, fire, warfare, and rivalry were already all that was understood in this distinct realm. Grandiar of Dragon Valley, the Valley of Paranon, had sewn this place as a haven only understood by dragons. He had meant for a place where dragons would war over territory and rivalry without harming man. However, that was from a young age. He had aged and grown wisdom. The oldest and wisest of dragons wept over the wanton deaths and firey destruction of war. However, his remaining relief was that the dragons' sadistic sport and life was uninterrupted by the meddling touch of man.
By Kent Brindleyabout a year ago in Fiction
Dragons of Paranon
There weren’t always dragons in the valley; and THIS dragon now stood directly in the path of a weak boy and an innocent girl. The bravest and loudest of the boys had been right to fetch the warriors in time. Why, with decisions like this, he’d make a fine warrior himself one day…!
By Kent Brindley2 years ago in Fiction