N.J. Folsom
Bio
There's a whole universe in my head, just waiting to be written.
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Stories (23/0)
The Widow
Writer's Note: This is an updated story which was previously published on Vocal. Sunday, April 12, 2020 As the afternoon sun began its journey towards the horizon, hidden by the onset of a storm beginning to settle across a small part of the eastern Missouri countryside. As such, rain started falling on a two-story house surrounded by trees and fields. The lady who owned the house, a young woman scarred both emotionally and physically, loved the quiet solidarity. She loved living with the her closest friends, who weren't around at the moment.
By N.J. Folsom6 months ago in Fiction
Far-Off Things
Thursday, October 24, 2019 Beams of sunlight cascaded into the carpeted living room windows of a small house in a western Missouri town. The morning light was a reminder to everyone present in the house that a new day was here, for new opportunities. The only person in the house, however, was a forty year-old brunette woman who was still laying passed out on the living room couch face down. An open laptop sat next to her on the coffee table as it auto played low-volume videos from streaming website ViewMe.
By N.J. Folsom6 months ago in Fiction
The Things I've Seen
This all happened years ago. My family had to move around a lot, to follow my dad because he was the breadwinner of the house. He kept finding new jobs in different cities and different towns across multiple states. Most of the time it was smaller towns.
By N.J. Folsom8 months ago in Horror
The Gateway
APOLLO ARCHIVE STATION LOG: The following are collected logs from within and around the St. Louis area during the initial invasion period in November of 2021. These entries are from before the formation of the EOE and therefore do not reflect the current state of affairs on Earth. Please take caution while reading.
By N.J. Folsom2 years ago in Fiction
Prologue - Homeward
September 23rd, 2023 It was a crisp fall morning in the small northern neighborhood of Newcrest, a township in the pacific northwest. The sky was slightly cloudy as a mailman carried packages and envelopes from house to house, stopping just short of a large manor at the corner of the street. The mailman had heard of weird things happening at the house on the corner, particularly how strange the occupants were, but he decided to go ahead and deliver the mail anyway. After all he stuck to his motto whenever possible: "Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor weirdness abound stays these couriers from their appointed rounds".
By N.J. Folsom3 years ago in Fiction
An Interview with Scarlett Keene
One of the more dangerous aspects of being a reporter in the entertainment industry is dealing with celebrities who have a slight temper. Whether it is someone abruptly leaving an interview or someone shoving your microphone in a less than pleasant place, it is always a dangerous prospect to go up to someone with a negative reputation and ask for an interview. This in particular is why I had a feeling of trepidation when approaching a house in Newcrest last week.
By N.J. Folsom3 years ago in Fiction
Waterlogged
I was born after the rain began. My grandfather told me how amazing the world was before the storm; how bright and green the grass was on cultivated fields as far as the eye could see. He told me climbing the mountaintops was a test of skill and endurance, not a simple saunter up onto what limited dry land we had left. He told me, through tired eyes and matted hair, of a time when the world was warm and dry. But that was before the rain fell. Before the sun went away.
By N.J. Folsom3 years ago in Fiction
The mystery of the missing shoe.
The thunder and lightning raged above my aunt's house in Cape Girardeau, Missouri as I stepped out of the vehicle, looking scared out of my wits at my aunt's house down the driveway. My other three siblings and I were dropped off there, ready to spend a few days so my parents could attend a funeral.
By N.J. Folsom3 years ago in Confessions
Tergoza War Excerpt: Dunis Excursion Part II
The sun over Dunis’ western hemisphere began to dip low in the sky as Zeema and Roken found themselves at the Tergoza Military Command Base at the top of Outpost Zeta, waiting for the one in charge of the base to arrive with the newly captured prisoner. Sitting on a hovering bench outside a door, the two looked around while watching soldiers walk back and forth through the halls. They didn’t know how long the wait was going to be, but it had already been an hour, and a long wait was something both of them were not very fond of.
By N.J. Folsom3 years ago in Futurism
