Seth Adams
Bio
In all of my years, the one constant has been my endearment of stories. To read them is my love. To write them is my honor.
Stories (5/0)
Side Effects May Include:
I am eroding. Time and space flows over me, a river of life and opportunity and experience has discarded me into its abyss. As I stare through the screen of static and noise and reruns from the early 90’s on an old antenna-fed channel, I become dulled, lesser, a pale stone perched atop the pebble gray sofa, sinking, settling, weathering away. I run my parched tongue across the dry-rotted, deep-fried crust of my lips. I let out a long, disparaging breath, the cackling of an unseen audience filling the room from the flat screen television before me.
By Seth Adams3 years ago in Fiction
The Case at Shribbley's Peat Parade
No one wants to be that person. The one that eats the last piece of a cake. It doesn’t matter if you are attending a celebratory event, a reunion, or just to have some with the family. To be “that” person leaves you subjected to the shame you receive from everyone else. Ironic. For those who all decide that the cake is not worth the ridicule leave it be. No plastic cover or pan can keep that piece alive for long. After a few days the dryness sets in. The icing begins to firm up as moisture separates and settles in small droplets around the edges. No one wants to eat a cake that’s turning into a sweet, sweaty piece of jerky.
By Seth Adams3 years ago in Fiction
Mr. Heidensberg's Mâché Menagerie
It must have been a dream. It didn’t feel like it had been a noise that jolted me from my sleep. Instead, it was that sensation of pulling yourself up out of a vat of slime, the suction tugging on you, trying to keep you with it. Dreams never seem to want to let go, even once free. It’s as if part of it comes with you and hangs on like a tumor. It lingers and makes you question its existence. Was the dream a dream, or are the feelings so strong because it happened, or will happen? Am I reliving a repressed memory, or am I seeing the future?
By Seth Adams3 years ago in Fiction
Luster
The mountainous expanse crackled across the horizon like broken glass. It was treacherous turf; cloaked in ribbons of snow. The steep inclines and sweeping towers zigzagged and collided into each other, casting misleading shadows for anyone who dared attempt the climb. The castle of rock kept a vigil over the landscape below.
By Seth Adams3 years ago in Fiction
Rebooted
Have you ever found yourself staring into the cool abyss? The misty rush hits your chest as you peer through the organized chaos, hoping something will appear that you just didn’t notice before. The pastel blue light tries to soothe your despair as you peruse the shelves and pull open the drawers. Have you ever wondered why you do this? As if magically your craving will just finally appear. Either that, or you just settle. The weeks-old pack of hot dogs with a squirt of mustard didn’t sound so bad after all, you tell yourself. Yes, the oatmeal yogurt with cranberries that has sat long enough to curdle just a smidge is exactly what I was craving.
By Seth Adams3 years ago in Fiction
