Ryan Smith
Bio
I'm a good dad, a decent writer, and a terrible singer.
Achievements (8)
Stories (32/0)
- Second Place in Ship of Dreams Challenge
No Man's LandSecond Place in Ship of Dreams Challenge
The Western Front, Somme, France April 14, 1916 Those who never experienced war did not understand it, and those who did understood it even less. William Starling had a grasp of unspeakable things unique to very few living people, which spared him the sunken, doll-like look of a man of war. He saw the look on the faces of the men with whom he shared the trench, a great wound in the earth. Men who, if passed on the street in his native Liverpool, Blackpool, or even under the sheen of Manchester, would be bright with easy, unearned confidence. The age of the men in William’s battalion, hardly old enough to shave—and he not much more—had no bearing on their condition. Men triple their age back home had no context of Hell that could assuage their constant dread.
By Ryan Smith2 years ago in Fiction
- Runner-Up in From Across the Room Challenge
Empire of Dirt: Chapter 1
Tikirarjuaq (Whale Cove), Nunavut, Canada 1613 To Henry James Watford of Bexfield, County Norfolk, please deliver. My loving Father and Mother, I pray and trust in God that this finds you in good health, and to my faithful wife the same. I humbly thank you for the provisions and letter, both received with gratitude. We have adequate stores of fish, though the skins are not as plentiful as promised and shoe leather is at a premium. I am writing from a strange land with little else to report than the search for a Northwest Passage continues. As time goes so too does morale, but I refrain from any sorrow or regret as thanks be to God I am in fine health. It does no good to associate with the catastrophist who hath lost his faith. There are many without faith here. Dealings with Indians have proven they are, to a man, strong and clever, Godless though they are. Their customs and station are nomadic, understandable to a point as we too seek more hospitable climes.
By Ryan Smith2 years ago in Fiction
- Second Place in Life Unleashed Challenge
The PhotographSecond Place in Life Unleashed Challenge
Indy was just a year old when we drove up the long dirt road through the ranch to the guest cabin on the ridge. She slept through most of the eight hour drive from where we lived, the city dissolving into suburbs, then farmlands, and finally into rolling grasslands. Now, Indy looked out the car window, delirious with new smells, sights and sounds. The ranch stretched beyond the horizon, green valleys and crests dotted with people on horseback. The clouds hung lower than I’d ever seen, drawn close to the beauty of the land. Indy took a long, luxurious breath.
By Ryan Smith2 years ago in Fiction
Hush
We kids forced ourselves together as tight as possible to see the moon, and I held up JJ because he’d never seen it before. It wasn’t like it was in the picture books, diced by the grate over the ventilation shaft. The whir of the air filtration system swallowed our awe. I read that we only see one face of the moon because its rotation takes the same time as its orbit around us, called synchronous rotation. It sounds cute, like a dance. But Teacher told me the moon used to have its own pace but the earth forced it to slow down and now it’s stuck, facing us forever. Can’t look away.
By Ryan Smith3 years ago in Fiction
The House at the End of the World
The end of civilization as we knew it was heralded by the warbling siren of an old Haitian ambulance with far more miles behind it than ahead of it. Inside was a young boy whose name was swept away in history by what he became: Patient Zero. But that may not be true, which is not at all shocking, as history and truth rarely intersect. The truth is the fungus emerged all over the world, but we like straight lines so let’s keep to the story. It's easier to look for a neat and tidy origin than see the world as chaos. The truth—no capital t because it’s just my truth—is that the earth simply had enough of our violence upon her and chose to brush us off like we would an ant.
By Ryan Smith3 years ago in Fiction