William L. Truax III
Bio
Disabled Veteran, Father of 2.
I am a teller of tales and dreams, visions, haunting melodies, subtidal invocations of the mind and song.
Many of the Tales here interact with each other in some way and all within the same Universe.
Stories (60/0)
A Haunting Oddity
Greetings worn and weary travelers, this journal that you have found will indicate to you all that lies before you as more of a guide or autonomous helper. As you are hearing my voice as I happened to record it as I wrote it here. Lest not forget that here, upon this remote island, that none will be able to understand or comprehend. At least that appears to be the case for myself and those of my companions, that is. However the endeavor that promoted you upon this journey, I give you a thought to remember once more, things are not what they are, or appear as, such as this journal, you are hearing my voice, as if it is or I, rather, are with you currently, this again is a testament to the island and how it interacts with you. Remember that well, it will serve you in the future, if you have one that is. Speaking of which, look to the man to the left of you, or the right if you are on the furthest left, and remember what they looked like, as it may very well be the last time.
By William L. Truax III2 months ago in Fiction
Mahn's Fall
Through wandering eyes I beheld that last light that shimmered in the pale radiance of the dead and dying. It was a lasting vessel that at once arrived to harvest the long and wonderful dead. Their travesty of Mahn no longer an issue keeping them held to the ground that their bodies, now void, were left to. I was allowed to bear witness to all that was to behold the grateful dead and see how their torment was released.
By William L. Truax III2 months ago in Fiction
Inversion Inside of the Asylum
His eyes narrowed in on the woman speaking, it was as if he was not listening as the lonely woman sat there telling the tale as to why her husband ended up in the state that he arrived here in. I sat there listening intently to the bazar story that seemed to fascinating to be real. However the account of the woman could not be anything else. Allow me to elaborate a little more.
By William L. Truax III2 months ago in Fiction
Horrified Survivor
Within the windowless room, where I sit and wonder, the light that shines above me as my only companion, it simmers with the delight that it enjoys giving, as if it were but a real and living and breathing thing. The light that shines above me as my friend and only companion inside of this shell of a room that once gave life to others, it is now a ghastly hall of vacancy. No longer the lingering cries or that of hinged demise, for it is no longer a place with life, for the void that has overtaken it alone kindles a reminder that I am but a last vessel.
By William L. Truax III2 months ago in Fiction
Tyra and the Tome
Tyra Elizabeth, the woman who invoked every ounce of admiration that was given to her, it was not her fault by any stretch of the imagination that her beauty alone inspired all the admiration she could afford. She found it more of a burden. A haunting disposition invoked upon her. At the time of her birth. However, the choosing of her lifestyle, whether it was fate or destiny or something different altogether, it invoked inside of her more of an outrage. Despite the most wondrous and glamorous beauty of all human creation. She loathed all of. Despite the attention then gentlemanly gifts. She was given more so on nonrandom occasions, or that when at any time she would step out upon the tears and screams of adoring people. She despised everything. She wanted to be left alone. She was not the type of woman or girl when I first encountered her. Who like being the center of attention? Everywhere she went, it was the same drowning sounds of screams and tears, the same adoring yes-man nature of her beast, it was not anything she enjoyed. When she rebelled. They only scream louder with enjoyment. Nothing she could do would deter the fickle demands of the public eye.
By William L. Truax III3 months ago in Fiction
Autom Star Gazing
The day began like any other had done for so long that it became its own common place, the days went on in their standard monotony and the blending of one day to the next was more than obvious for any of us who worked here. Though, to say that every day was new and adventurous was an under sight to all who dwelled here. It was a simple same thing everyday type of life, there was nothing to change, and all would be as it had been. That was until the night of the Autom Star Gazing, that night was a night that changed all of us in every single imaginable way.
By William L. Truax III5 months ago in Fiction
Abomination
The feeling of being alone and lost, searching for the one that would light the way in the darkness… it is a small feeling of terror… but I digress, I am getting ahead of myself. Please, allow me once more to start again. My name is Quintis Allure, I am a “Wizard” of sorts, served under the great masters of my time and learned from the works of Socrates, Aristotle, Virgal. They say that I am a learned man, whatever that means now is nothing compared to the horror that I faced that night and with all the knowledge of the heavens and of hell, it was nothing. I still stood there lost and alone in front of that great beast.
By William L. Truax III5 months ago in Fiction
The Nightmare Woods
My name is Paul Crag, and I find myself wandering through the desolate woods on this chilling night, an unwelcome guest in the realm of shadows and secrets. The moon's pale visage casts eerie specters that mock my presence in these cursed woods, and my every footfall resonates with a mournful echo, as if the very earth beneath me craves to devour my trembling soul. The heavy forest presses upon my psyche, its bony fingers clutching at my sanity, while an air of unspeakable dread suffuses the nocturnal stillness, tormenting me with a foreboding that gnaws at the very core of my being.
By William L. Truax III6 months ago in Fiction
Witch Hill
Atop a platform in a field of marsh and green a dwelling stands against the test of time and as I found it long ago, lost in another time and place. It seemed to me as if it had been forgotten and abandoned long ago by the original inhabitants of the dwelling, but too it seemed as if it were holding that small secret that needed to be opened. I had thought to myself of that cold and damp location, it sent shills up my spine but still gave hope to me as if I were the only one to be able to break the curse that it held on itself and nay once be occupied again by that of the living and breathing.
By William L. Truax III7 months ago in Fiction
The Doctor Who Helped
Doctor Felix C. May was a respectable doctor at his prime when a man walked into the hospital on Jones Street and asked for him specifically. The man himself was a short, robust man with every ounce of his being neatly tucked into his trousers and his oversized shirt hiding the remnants of the leftovers. He looked every part the man whom the radio broadcasts were saying to avoid at all costs. His hair balding in the front giving him that advantageous look of a smarter, more grown individual, define in absolute intelligence, his widows peak being the best quality he had. The man was a mere babbling, nonsensical person whose only whelms were in eating of the most fattening foods and a more slothful nature. His claim that the good doctor was the only hope he had with his more ambitious and sensational therapy inside of a heated tank where his weight would have been removed in one sitting. The overly obese man thought the good doctor upon seeing him would help right away as he believed himself the proper candidate for the experimental treatment. The man had heard that at one point in the days of high of Roman Conquest and Imperialism that the Vomitorium was a natural born cure, that, and the sensational organization of the Huffington that he desired to be able to acquire. Sadly as the man sought it, the proprietor of the Huffington was more into slimmer perspective clients for this newly formed drug of everyday delivery. Herein the doctor was called upon by the man walking into the hospital setting.
By William L. Truax III7 months ago in Fiction
Castle High
In the harshness of the cold abyss I saw above me a house that was what I had dreamt of in my youth. It was taller than a mountain, but smaller than an average village dwelling from those more somber years of ages past, strong as a mighty oxen named Babe, and as light as a feather. You could pack it in a bag and tote it alongside you anywhere you had traveled to and never had to worry about leaving home behind for it followed you everywhere as it does to me now.
By William L. Truax III7 months ago in Fiction