Tillman Alexander III
Bio
I guess one can say Tillman Alexander III 'specializes' in the short story genre, but don't be surprised if one day, he finally finishes one of the many novels/novellas he's started over the years!
Stories (4/0)
MirroRorriM
Part One The mirror showed a reflection that was not my own. The cracks gave my face a Picasso-esque appearance, but that was when I was looking at my face as an abstract image. Now, another face was in the mirror. It blinked as I blinked, leaned forward as I did, as if the entity looking back at me wondered as much what I was as I did it. But it was no longer a reflection of me.
By Tillman Alexander IIIabout a year ago in Horror
Chase
I’m an athlete. You should know that first. Actually, I’m a former pro athlete, but I like to keep myself in shape even though I’m not playing any more. There was a morning recently, fresh and with a spotless blue sky. It was slightly chilly but with the promise of warmth later in the afternoon. A gentle breeze brushed across the rolling hills surrounding my place, and I decided it would be a perfect day to go for a long bike ride. I lived about six miles from town, so I had it in my mind to ride to town and back. Morning had only just broken upon the day, so I figured there would be only a few people milling about so early and that would make for a peaceful ride. I donned my gear and whipped out my bike. I gathered myself, strapped on my helmet and before stepping out the door, as was customary now, I jumped, touched ‘Barney’ on the beak and said, “Tag, you’re it!’ Barney was a stuffed barn owl. I had found him alive, injured, and flopping around on the front porch the day after I moved into my house. I kept him, got him back to health, named him Barney, and when he died about eight months later, I had become so attached to him I had him stuffed and he now ‘flew’ above the front door. After the tag, I went outside, mounted the bike and started down the path leading away from the porch.
By Tillman Alexander III2 years ago in Fiction
Across The Threshold
PARTIE UNO Elliott and Gina were miles apart in age. It never mattered to Gina as much as Elliott thought it did, and it didn’t matter to him at all, but because he thought it mattered to her, she was somewhat frustrated. Here was Gina, a breathtaking beauty of a woman, twenty-six years old. There was Elliott, at sixty-one, more suited to being a father or even grandfather to Gina, and he somewhat acted and treated her accordingly. But that was not to her liking.
By Tillman Alexander III2 years ago in Fiction
The Locket
Arrick-Mol stepped from behind a large, rock and cast a careful glance left and right. His shoulder ached from his last battle, and he didn’t want another. He turned and motioned to his companions that it looked safe to cross this flat, unremarkable landscape with only dead or rotting trees to break the monotony. The nearest walled city was a few miles to the west, and they might be presented with many dangers at any moment.
By Tillman Alexander III3 years ago in Fiction
