Robert Wilson
Stories (4/0)
Omens For Divine Discretion
The moon shined brightly on the riverbed, as a man lie near the edge, staring at the sky. The air, palpable and stagnant, like the waters of the river itself. In a nearby tree, an owl, white as fresh snowfall, atop the highest branch. The owl scouted the area, then took flight. As it perched upon an uprooted stump, the man rose to his feet.
By Robert Wilson4 years ago in Futurism
Rabbit Holes and Misconceptions
Alice never thought it would go this far. “Alice no….” she thought to herself, biting her lip stained dirty crimson. Alastor was her friend, companion, or in a simpler more direct term, her partner. Sure, they may have bickered constantly from time to time, I minor fight here, a slight homicidal tendency there. What is a few bloodstained, wrapped in generous layers of duct tape between close friends anyway?
By Robert Wilson4 years ago in Horror
All is Far, All is Near
The wind blows as the trees sway back and forth, like nature performing an elegant waltz. The house is quiet, nothing is in motion, not even the air. The living room filled with the light of a nearby table lamp and fireplace light, is as average as the home itself. The occupant of this estate, however, is far from it. The home at 1820 Sleepy Lane, is owned by a man of very unusual tastes and fancies. Crane is a man of medium stature, no different than the average man in town, but with eyes like panes of broken glass.
By Robert Wilson4 years ago in Horror