Rob Cunliffe
Bio
I am currently working on my first novel and writing as much as I can. I hope you enjoy my stories. Give them a like if you do!
Stories (6/0)
Lucid
I froze to death before the excessive bleeding from my leg wound could kill me. Well, it was probably more like a tie. It all took less than five minutes from start to finish. Losing consciousness is an… interesting experience. It’s uncomfortable and stressful, as though your fingers are losing their grip on the edge of a cliff and when your fight is over you are sent tumbling uncontrollably into the abyss of your mind’s safest refuge, darkness. It feels unnatural, as you fight to keep your awareness here, now, in the waking present. It feels like I imagine dying might feel. But then again, for me it did mean death, and die I did. I froze to death, and it’s the only reason that I’m alive today.
By Rob Cunliffe3 years ago in Fiction
Death By Chocolate
Sarti stood next to Max as he worked, watching him measuring out ingredients, leveling off a tablespoon with the edge of the box from which he drew cocoa powder. Max had just recently gotten promoted at his restaurant, a small family run chain called Griffin, and was given the opportunity to present an entirely new menu of his own making to the manager for consideration. This was a huge step for max and would be even bigger if it went well. He’d been testing dishes on friends and family for weeks. Tonight was dessert night.
By Rob Cunliffe3 years ago in Fiction
James and the Magic Door
James Patterson was a simple, quiet man but introverted by no means. James grew up on his family’s farm in rural Maine. After his parents passed he realized how important community was to him and so he transformed the modest acreage of his inheritance from a working farm into a venue for weddings, gatherings, parties and retreats. He loved providing a place for people to gather, to be in community with one another and to share life’s joy around a table or a fire pit. James found that when he was able to do so, he felt completed. He would throw lavish parties, spending too much of his own money to make sure that everyone had the food, drink, entertainment and atmosphere that would serve to bring them all a little closer together. Then he would sit back with a big smile on his face and watch them talk and drink and smile, listen to their laughter and their raucous enjoyment of one another’s company. He would participate too, sure, but his true happiness came from providing the space and watching his friends and family and loved ones enjoy one another.
By Rob Cunliffe3 years ago in Fiction
Something Like Rage
As a child I was very sensitive. I remember with disdain hearing the phrase, “over-sensitive” used to describe my delicate nature. I was a lover, an artist. I was made for the pen and the brush, not the sword and the shield. Over time that changed. I grew, I matured, I learned about my world, and with that knowledge came a shift. It was slow and studied. It happened with the subtle grace of a rolling wave miles from its breaking point, and with the patience of a melting glacier. Through the experiences, skills, lessons, heartbreaks, and tribulations life sent my way I came to the realization that I was shedding a layer. I knew that there was a sensitivity that I was stepping out of. Beyond. Not shunning it, but calmly stepping away. I knew that I needed to be a man, to be strong, to be tough if I was to make anything of myself. So I put my sensitivity in a shoebox and left it in my closet. As I grew, changed and lived my life I could always sense that child’s sensitivity. I could feel its pull at times and imagine myself collapsing back into tears and tantrums over life’s smallest obstacles. In a way it was inviting, the idea of just abandoning the simulacrum of strength that I had been cultivating and just be in raw emotion like a child. To just live in it.
By Rob Cunliffe3 years ago in Fiction
Finding "Your People" Again
It took years. Perhaps you met them when you were both considerably younger. You came into and out of new chapters in your lives together. They were constantly a reflecting glass in which to see, relate and discern things about your own life. Or perhaps, like so many modern relationships, you met online. Things got hot and heavy quickly. One week in and you knew their deepest, darkest secrets. Two months down, and the whole affair was over. Fast, hard loving. No matter how you met, how you fell in love, how long it lasted, one thing is certain; you had found your people.
By Rob Cunliffe3 years ago in Geeks
My Willow's Tree
It began in a dream. Or what I thought was a dream at the time, anyway. Later, looking back, I would come to see that it was different than other dreams. It was more… I don’t know. Real? Perhaps. More something. It was different. It was vivid and beautiful, sad and honest. It shimmered with electricity somehow. The fact is that it was a gift. How it was given, how it got delivered, how any of it actually happened… I will never truly know.
By Rob Cunliffe3 years ago in Humans