Cryptic Fiction

Welcome to Cryptic Fiction. I created this site because I believe that the art of the story is fading.

For centuries tale-smiths passed down our history and inspired us, creating new worlds that excite our imaginations and explore our humanity.

I believe that we must not trade that vital part of ourselves and replace it with action movies filled with CGI, feeding our adrenaline but failing to satisfy our intellect. It's why I write, and I thank you for giving me an opportunity to reach out to you through my first love, the written word.

The Empty Room

Grief was heavy upon his shoulders, like Atlas holding the Earth aloft in the heavens. His cherished tomes still sat upon the bookcase, brittle pages filled with wisdom he could neither grasp nor attain. There was the couch upon which she gently sang to him, melodies that penetrated his soul like a whisper of light in the darkness. Followed by twilight's of fumbling hands, naked skin, and the urgent passion of unfettered youth. And there his writing desk, from upon which he inscribed poetry for her, and would read to her as she nestled warmly by the hearth.

Tears streamed down his solemn visage as he contemplated how much love existed in this room. And did the room know, could a room contain a memory? His heart ached in his breast to the point of bursting as he wished to turn back the hated hands of time. To a time before charred wallpaper and boiling paint, a time before the fire, and fire, and fire, and fire.

He turned, uttering grief in a howl that was animal, not man. And there she stood before him, his great love! The apparition silenced his anguish, her smile cooling the embers of his broken heart. Yet he had no time for shock or exultation, for she took him…
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