Kale Sinclair
Bio
Author | Poet | Husband | Dog Dad | Nerd | Zen Practitioner
Find my published poetry, and short story books here!
Stories (298)
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It sounded human...
Those days were bleak and somber. My mother would exclusively care for my baby sister, providing her with all of the bare necessities a baby would need. At least, far better than she had ever provided for me. In her coal eyes, the first born was always seen as more of a curse than as a blessing. I would frequently overhear her praying at odd times of the day and of the night. Praying to someone or something that I had no idea even existed. But I knew she was praying. I knew this because of the way her frail hands were either pressed together or holding rosary beads. Sometimes she would squeeze her rosary so hard she would puncture her palms, letting her old blood coat the beads a deep red.
By Kale Sinclair5 years ago in Horror
A Funeral
Testing the limitations of his hand rolled cigarette, Corrado rapidly inhaled the soothing chemicals deep into the depths of his sixteen year old lungs. His large hands shook with each drag, reminding him of the painful tremors his late father had once suffered from. Unconcerned, he continued to smoke through the pain. Finishing one then quickly lighting up another. After chain smoking his entire stash, he was convinced that his shaking was due to the excessive amounts of nicotine he had just ingested. Combined with overwhelming anxiety and stress, he was able to calm his mind from the idea of succumbing to the same genetic fate of his father.
By Kale Sinclair5 years ago in Horror
