T.C. Sundberg
Bio
Stories (2/0)
Aquarius
I did not cry as I sat on the dock. There was no sorrow. I skimmed my hands along the tops of the rough-hewn planks feeling the small circle of rubber bands around my wrist like a promise. Maggie and I had made those bracelets together, sitting on the floor of her sun-soaked library. Our hands, soft with childhood, had looped the multicolored bands together. These bands had been intended to straighten her teeth and her parent’s disapproval over our collection of them only fueled our enjoyment as the multicolored bracelets grew to encircle our wrists.
By T.C. Sundberg2 years ago in Fiction
Inn at the End of the World
There was an inn near the end of the world. A dusty tavern filled with the odd types that accumulated at the edges as the borders of the earth disappeared into fog. No one who went into that fog ever came out but that didn't stop people from trying.
By T.C. Sundberg3 years ago in Futurism