Vagabond Writes
Bio
I sometimes write things. Currently eager to write more, and provide quality content. If you like my writing consider subscribing or pledging. Thanks for the support!
Also follow my Instagram @Vagabond_Writes
Stories (28/0)
Boys of the Jungle
BANG! The trunk door slammed closed on his mom’s Honda Civic. The beige car with its rusted wheel wells, and terrible power steering was the only car his mother had ever owned, but this was the fifth home they’d moved into — at least of those that he was old enough to remember. In his hands was the last of the cardboard boxes that held their things. In this particular box was the last of his own belongings: Comics he no longer read, a martial arts uniform for a studio he could no longer attend, old socks. None of these things were particularly heavy for the fourteen-year-old, and yet he found himself struggling to carry the box up the front stairs of the apartment complex.
By Vagabond Writes8 months ago in Chapters
Tears in the Nighttime
“Why are you crying Grandmama?” Junie asked in the darkness of their familiar hut. The sun had long since gone down, but he could see her tears glistening in the moonlight that streaked through the poorly maintained thatch roofing. Baba was supposed to fix that. He shook away the thought and moved over to his grandmother who stood in the doorway. He placed his tiny hand in hers and looked up at her with all the purity and bravery that an eight-year-old possessed.
By Vagabond Writes9 months ago in Fiction
- Top Story - July 2023
I Wrote A Book, So What?Top Story - July 2023
I wrote a book, so what? "Love Poems to Girls Who Don't Text Back" is my debut project that is the culmination of years of life experiences, intense emotions, and art. This book means everything to me, and absolutely nothing to you. Therefore, it’s my job to convince you of why you should buy, or at least read my debut poetry book (it’s free with Kindle Unlimited).
By Vagabond Writes9 months ago in Poets
Shard Bound
The last embers of a lonely fire flickered in the morning breeze. Sol was still low in the sky, just barely peeking above the horizon. Even so the solar sphere illuminated the grasslands. In the morning light the owner of the campfire saw his destination far in the distance; Lucent Caverns. Legends stemming from the local villages told of a dragon and its foul minions who lived deep within the cave structure. There may have been some truth to those rumors, but Orion was headed there for a more urgent affair. Even at this range he felt the malevolence emanating from that direction; the slow pulse of something aberrant seeping its way into the world, and perverting the natural state. It was his duty as Magi to correct this imbalance.
By Vagabond Writesabout a year ago in Fiction
The Rules of Engagement
A crimson envelope laid flat on the table before the man who’d awakened only moments prior. The vibrant color stuck out in the otherwise drab beige and browns of the train cabin. The space was void of any other human presence than his own — strange given how decorative the cabin was. Lush carpet, and finely stitched upholstery abound. It was somewhat aggravating how comfortable the seating was.
By Vagabond Writes2 years ago in Fiction
Pride and Prejudice
Police lights are the same color as the American Flag. This realization haunts me. These colors define my country, and defy my expectations of who we should be. My people are policed by the boys in blue. Our women’s bodies are policed in red states. It is old dead white men who created these rules. We are over-policed and under-protected beneath these colors.
By Vagabond Writes2 years ago in Poets
