Richard Wilcox
Bio
I attempt to pursue the joys of the art of writing, as the before-said represents one of my true passions. The imagination that surrounds the nature of the unexistant often amazes me, hence, giving me the ability to put in words the unreal.
Stories (6/0)
Summer
Something singular was happening. The withered wishes of the summer ancestors were resurrected with the sound of the soon arrival of the festivals longed for by the people and, even so, I felt confused, highly thoughtful even when the essence of the awakened was necessary to prepare the final touches in the pastry of my family, however, I was unable to concentrate, after all, a certain special person flooded my mind with beautiful thoughts that based their nature on a fantasy romantic experience that possessed the beautiful characteristics that the writers inspired by love, use. Ignorant I was, although I knew the fundamental fact to give a final voice to my following actions, after all, I knew that it would be impossible for me to unite spiritually and physically with that Goddess incarnated as a woman... That discouraged me, at the same time something was rare, a specific aspect that aroused a mortal curiosity in my being, because my hatred towards the aforementioned character remained fervent throughout the year, however, I felt especially romantic on those summer days, they made me remember... They gave me the right to recall the truth hidden behind the chaos hovering in my life in each season of the year, they brought images of the hidden reality in my experiences with her. Such a sweet rivalry that acted masked with the undying hatred of two families who wanted to make their life of something successful, perhaps extravagant, consequently they alienated us from each other, called us with rage in their voices when we interacted as children, and inserted dangerous ideals into our minds as if we were mortal enemies destined to destroy each other, but a beautiful whisper in the wind simulated to indicate the future, but a beautiful reddish color was manifested on our cheeks when we said goodbye with bright gazes that we used to dedicate to each other. I considered it for so long, I pondered about approaching my parents and declaring my forbidden love towards the bearer of the unnameable surname, but I never had enough courage to speak the truth, however, something happened in the romanticism that acted in the fireworks of the summer festival...
By Richard Wilcox3 years ago in Humans
Interview with Georgia O'Keeffe. (Or regarding art).
Interview with Georgia O'Keeffe. (Or regarding art). The authenticity of various characters, could be, what most attracts my attention, so joyful beings that the circumstances that lead their existence provoke curious thoughts and incredible ideas; from geniuses, scientists, artists of various kinds, perhaps teachers or even uneducated beings. For this reason, I have decided to venture to the state of New Mexico, and thus, visit a famous artist who has more than caught my attention, the aforementioned person is the celebrated Georgia O'Keeffe, whom maintains a warm home in a small town called "Abiquiú". I should comment that the proportions and figures of such a place have an incomparable beauty, differentiating the banality and frivolity of the neighboring cities, as if such mountains surpassed the artificial constructions with a magnificent factor of natural bestiality. Last week, I questioned the mentioned character on the phone to find out if it would be appropriate for me to pay her a visit, although this idea was not a problem due to the warmth of this person's personality, however, I could see that her enthusiasm was not strictly aimed at the excitement of the event.
By Richard Wilcox3 years ago in Humans
The first kiss
More than twenty years have passed since then, and I still lack the appropriate words to tell of an event as beautiful, sublime and ineffable as our first kiss was. In the same way, it was a big problem that at the time I had when I managed to write it in that book. I remember it so clearly after so long. Let me try again… I will continue with the story.
By Richard Wilcox3 years ago in Humans
Under the light of the sun and the moon.
Under the light of the sun and the moon, under the glorious clouds and embraced by the gentle mountains, caressed by the softness of the grass that shakes my spirit; I find myself lying down listening to the melodious movement of the powerful air, which, in turn, is always calm. Isn't it beautiful? The shelter of the fantastic world surrounded by the wonder of the simplistic reality that surrounds our lives. Isn't it wonderful? The walk of the human being, the gait of the monkey and the mewing of the cat, the flapping of the wings of the majestic bird and the song of the owl. You only need to observe your environment, you only need to look in all directions and allow yourself to feel perplexed by the beauty of everything that lives and sleeps near us.
By Richard Wilcox3 years ago in Humans
The family business
The endless uneasiness began several years ago in the past. It was in 1963 when I was old enough to be considered fit -in the eyes of my parents- to take a look at the family business. Before the aforementioned, my first reaction was characterized by having a most horrendous nature, being the same caused by the disgusting screams that resounded in the small space where the poor soul resided bathed in natural dyes that caused me little curiosity, but the worst It was not the vision that was shared with me or the place where they brought me at a very young age, but rather the actions that I had to commit to prove my worth while holding the subscription to keep an eye on the family business. Rooms surrounded by stones and metals arranged in precise ways that denoted moss that probably dated from several centuries in the past, which spoke of a continuation of this trade through the years. In my explorations in those infinite underground catacombs, I was able to perceive various screams that enjoyed different accents... Horrifying exclamations based on the claims of beings who shouted for help, some, shouted their origin, as well as their connection with the earthly world, that, froze my blood... However, the gloomiest thing waited patiently at the end of the long corridor through which I walked, after all, that "being" expressed a demanding mental authority as I approached the radius of the reach of his spirit. I was confused. Raised by loving parents who constantly gave me gifts of adorable proportions, the same ones who used to play by my side when I was still young and preserved the innocence of the child, those who stayed by my side when an illness lodged in my body and did not want to leave, therefore, what I observed froze my soul... Drawing it towards the vastness of the darkness that surrounded the truth that I believed my life supposed to be, wrapping it between the grotesque that was two floors below the house where I grew up and lost my first teeth, or create the odd memory. Plus, the undeniable truth that was shown to me at the young age of eight allowed me to possess a certain knowledge beyond what is achievable by humanity, after all, the limits of what my eyes witnessed, of the disgusting screams that invaded my first home, of the repulsive tissues that I got to reach; it, all, snatched the few tears that came from my eyes to give my vision new colors that I would use to judge humanity. Such knowledge cannot be learned, much less narrated... It must be observed, witnessed, smelled and touched to complete the complexity of its understanding, thus, those ancient runes, those words spoken in untouchable or never heard languages can be understood by the human brain...
By Richard Wilcox3 years ago in Horror
A murderer´s letter.
Last year, I was forced to write an article regarding a certain curious character in the area of the silent crime, who considered himself a vigilante, a container for the voice of the divine, a judge and the executioner himself. Within my investigations, I found unpublished evidence that shows the nature of the dementia of the man I am talking about and despite my past soliloquies concerning whether I should publish my findings or not, I decided to share with my audience the eccentricity of this character, as well as the danger of his thinking. Here is what I managed to recover from the old letter:
By Richard Wilcox3 years ago in Criminal
