Samuel W Reid-Mckee
Bio
Stories (5/0)
The Draconic Restoration
Kitala stood at the top of the cliff face, looking out over a forest of giant, squat trees. Her view of them was shaky at best, as it was all she could do to keep her legs from collapsing. A staccato beat was made by her knees knocking together. She barely registered this sound, nor the sound of the vulturas flying and shrieking overhead. The long, winged serpents knew what her presence here meant.
By Samuel W Reid-Mckeeabout a year ago in Fiction
Beautiful Artists, Fetid Art
I have always hated poetry but idolized the poet. I cannot say the reason, but I can count on my fingers the poems that moved me. It always struck me as a pretentious hobby that idealized suffering, as if it were something to strive for. Then there’s the other side, the side that paints the world as rainbows and sunsets. The side that speaks only of flocks of geese taking flight above a grove of pine trees whilst the water laps at the rocky shores of the lake. Idyllic. Paradise. I would never claim that life is not beautiful, but neither would I deny its claim to a fair share of suffering. But in poetry, it always seems to be either or.
By Samuel W Reid-Mckee2 years ago in Poets
Loving Fully
I took my sibling's cat into my house three days ago. In total, I have known this cat for four days. I can honestly say, with no exaggeration, that in that time I have come to love this cat with a blazing passion. I would die for this animal and cherish every moment I spend with her. If I had a million dollars, I would buy thousands of overpriced cat toys, just to bring her a moment of joy.
By Samuel W Reid-Mckee2 years ago in Humans
From Above and Lurking Below
Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. Of course, “they” had never seen an angry Tyraxus in the void before. This is likely because none who witnessed one lived long enough to make pithy sayings. Accordingly, there were no diligent historians scribbling away in their notebooks to witness the physics defying bellows released from the gargantuan beast.
By Samuel W Reid-Mckee2 years ago in Fiction
The Doomed Train
Motes of amber and amethyst swirled in Jarett’s vision as he was wrenched from his slumber by searing heat. His mind awoke, but his eyelids did not lift. Even without sight, Jarett knew himself to be alone, a reality he could not bear to witness. A dull rattling and clattering made its way up his bones and into his fragile skull.
By Samuel W Reid-Mckee2 years ago in Fiction