Silas Woods
Bio
Stories (5/0)
Inheritance
Ron stares down at the cardboard box. His brother’s last name and last work location “CAMP 34” are scrawled on the front of the box. Several wet spots are visible along the sides of it and one corner of the lid is smashed in. Obvious mishandling aside, Ron finds the size of the box perturbing. He stops to look around at his own living quarters and realizes that his own personal effects, meager as they are, could (and will) be stuffed into an even smaller box than this one when his time comes. Shoving that thought into the background for now, Ron pries the lid off of the top of the box and begins unloading the contents of it onto his cot.
By Silas Woods11 months ago in Fiction
The Fake Wu-Tang Clan Show
If you don't know much about the Wu-Tang clan, and you enjoy hip hop music you should honestly just stop reading this and go do a deep dive to enjoy their vast contributions to the genre. For the sake of simplicity, I'll summarize for you.
By Silas Woods12 months ago in Humans
Stop The Asian Hate
In 2019, a comedian was fired from SNL for making racist remarks on a podcast. It made headlines. I clicked one of these headlines at the time and discovered his comments were made about Asians, more specifically Chinatown wherever he lives. Reading the stories without hearing the comments, I'll admit I was dismissive at first. Then I actually looked up what the guy said.
By Silas Woodsabout a year ago in Humans
Close Range
M finishes swiping his selection of tops to one side of his closet. After a groan of frustration, he starts swiping the shirts back in the other direction, searching again for that shirt that's "just right" for the occasion. When he reaches the other end yet again, he realizes he has a decision to make. M has dress shirts and suits a plenty. He also has a large selection of non-descript t-shirts with no logos or branding. Neither seem appropriate for the evening. After methodically narrowing his choices down to two contenders, he chooses a plain gray t-shirt, hoping that the nice leather jacket he will put over it will help.
By Silas Woodsabout a year ago in Humans
First On The Block
I gripped my uncomfortably square NES controller in my sweaty child's hands and stared up at the screen in disbelief. Mike Tyson's unconscious cartoon avatar laid in the back of the screen, eyes closed. I had knocked him down three times; he wasn't getting back up. But still I just stared. Mario, clad in referee garb made an entrance from the right-hand side of the screen, paused for that maddening moment, and then raised his hand as a cartoon talking bubble appeared over his head, cementing the victory I'd been chasing for almost four months with three simple letters. TKO.
By Silas Woodsabout a year ago in Geeks
