T. Emanuel
Bio
Me writer.
Stories (5/0)
Darkness and Snow
The cool, metallic barrel grazed the stubbly hairs on his jaw as he raised the barrel of the gun to his chin, thinking. He felt his fingers wrap around the grip. The power this allowed was no match for the defenselessness he felt however, manifesting via the slippery streams of sweat on his face. He sat there, reconciling the consequences of what he was about to do.
By T. Emanuel2 years ago in Fiction
It’s Not Brucie Anymore
Brucie Bogtrotter smiles. He’s sitting on a wooden bench in a brightly lit atrium, his dirty white converse tucked neatly under black jeans that are perfectly folded at the hem. It’s an ambivalent smile. He is a shadow of the boy I remember. He probably weighs as much as he did then, save for the fact that these days he's at least six feet tall. And though I’ve known him for more than two decades, I haven’t seen him in as long and it’s the exact same smile I knew back when we were in the same elementary school. I’m still perplexed by what’s driving it and I can’t presume to know if it’s sincere or not. I dwell on that for a moment, but he begins to speak and the meaning behind his smile disappears from my mind.
By T. Emanuel3 years ago in Fiction
A Solstice of Modern Salvation
“YOU GOOD-FOR-NOTHINS scum don’t belong 'round here!” bellowed from his lips like a bullet. He unleashed a barrage of blows, the confederate flag tattooed on his forearm sodden in scarlet blood not his own. “The Leader”, a black bandana covering his face, nodded his approval, as the carnage continued. His comrades continued their thievery, as the sounds of sirens pierced the twilight. “Boss, we got two, maybe three minutes before the pigs get here!” the twang of his southern accent revealing his roots with every word. “We gotta get outta here! QUICK!”
By T. Emanuel3 years ago in Humans