a fleck of ash
It was a cold morning. I was up all night (I don’t sleep). At dawn-break, this man brought what he calls, his tractor, and started working on the fields. I watched him from the tower that I made up along with my friends; a slender, golden structure the humans call the stem of the wheat plant. The load on me was going to get lighter. Soon these farmers would get ready to burn the stem down.
About
I take long walks. I go on long bicycle rides. I see. I think. I argue. I question. I fight. I understand. I’m another voice: I’m the voice of thought. I’m the Devil’s advocate. I’m the God’s reason. That said, all of the content on this site is fictitious. Any resemblance to any incident or person (living or dead) is—unfortunately—coincidental, unless otherwise mentioned. Not that I churn out great fiction anyway.
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Hello, there! I am … gives a voice to the unheard. Of course, this is not some sort of campaign or a promise that millions will hear your voice—they will not: the site simply does not have that reach. In fact, I am even surprised you are here, reading this. However, it is a legitimate outlet. If you would like to share your story with the world, this site is a good context.