Mason Walters
Bio
As a kid I dreamed of worlds where magical powers exist and nations are constantly in power struggles. When I became a Christian, I realized I wanted to devot my ideas to the Lord and here I am writing them down. Writing is a fun art!
Stories (14/0)
Hugrakkur and Styrkur
The snow drifts from the night sky softly landing among the trees. The snowflakes tickle my eyelids causing my eyes to click open and shut repeatedly. There is a cacophony of muffled sounds from the thump of my paw steps and the streaming of water from melted snow. The trees tower hundreds of feet up, sometimes dropping clumps of snow larger than I am onto the forest floor. It is a peaceful place, calming my instincts. If not for the cold, I could find myself spending the rest of my 500 years here in solitude, but alas I am not built for this frozen environment. I press on, barely passing between trees, often walking an extra mile to make it around tight spaces. The trees are thick from centuries of cultivation by Skogurdreki, the forest dreki. Many of the trees blend in with each other at the base creating walls throughout the forest. Even as a forty-foot drek I am dwarfed by skogur trees. If I were like other dreki I would fly over the forest but we of the Logadreki tribe lose our wings at a young age while swimming in the lava fields of our home.
By Mason Walters2 years ago in Fiction
Styrkur and Hugrakkur
The snow drifts from the night sky softly landing among the trees. The snowflakes tickle my eyelids causing my eyes to click open and shut repeatedly. There is a cacophony of muffled sounds from the thump of my paw steps and the streaming of water from melted snow. The trees tower hundreds of feet up, sometimes dropping clumps of snow larger than I am onto the forest floor. It is a peaceful place, calming my instincts. If not for the cold, I could find myself spending the rest of my 500 years here in solitude, but alas I am not built for this frozen environment. I press on, barely passing between trees, often walking an extra mile to make it around tight spaces. The trees are thick from centuries of cultivation by Skogurdreki, the forest dreki. Many of the trees blend in with each other at the base creating walls throughout the forest. Even as a forty-foot drek I am dwarfed by skogur trees. If I were like other dreki I would fly over the forest but we of the Logadreki tribe lose our wings at a young age while swimming in the lava fields of our home.
By Mason Walters2 years ago in Fiction