SEAN WILDE
Bio
Sean Wilde is a published writer living in Los Angeles CA. He has written for CBR, published a book and continues to write in his free time as he pursues a career in the film industry.
Stories (3/0)
An Awakening
"There weren't always dragons in the valley", he said. His face forlorn, riddled with cragged lines where time had marked the many years. The fire, it's hell blaze, reached towards the heavens. Its heat immense, raging, as the men stood there in their armor thirsty for old tales and new ones to be made. The light cast shadows behind the man against the large boulder's face. Dancing shadows, emissaries of some other spirit reaching towards an unknowable blackness, seeking some god or demon to consume them. "Behold, times lost, now revisited. Time, before time when the world was young and its lust for life was manifest in blood." It began to drizzle, the water bouncing off the young men's armor and in no way quenching the fires' thirst. The king, that great orator's voice rang with magic.
By SEAN WILDE2 years ago in Fiction
White Ribbon
“Sweat, that’s what I remember. Sweat.” he said in his low grizzly voice. He took a long draw from his cigarette and then spat on the ground. Ants came and began devouring the saliva. “It wasn’t just sweat, but back then it was mostly work. We ain’t had the time like y'all do now. People were simple, dumber too. They knew how to work and that’s it. They just worked” The fire crackled, the young man that sat opposite of him leaned in his chair, taking a small stick from the fire using its ember to light his cigarette. The old man liked to do this. Get in the backyard, out there by the field, build a fire, talk about old times, drink, smoke until he grew tired of himself talking. John didn’t mind, he liked the old man.
By SEAN WILDE2 years ago in Fiction
A Soul Lost in the Wilderness
He ran, he fell, he ran again. The bag hung low around his dark skinny legs, tangling him as he attempted to flee. The desert which burned his skin earlier, had turned cold and he shivered as he ran, wishing for the hot sun he cursed hours before.
By SEAN WILDE3 years ago in Criminal
