Alexander McEvoy
Bio
Writing has been a hobby of mine for years, so I'm just thrilled to be here! As for me, I love writing, dogs, and travel (only 1 continent left! Australia-.-)
I hope you enjoy what you read and I can't wait to see your creations :)
Achievements (1)
Stories (107/0)
Fragile
Fragile is the glass-craft heart. So easily shattered upon the ceaseless sands of broken dreams. In your hand you once did hold, a power most obscene. And yet you did, with knowing force, upon the ground it shatter. Did not you once think, in your wildest revery, that your own dear self might be cut?
By Alexander McEvoy3 days ago in Poets
On Writer's Block
I’ve hit a wall. The words on the page before my eyes are barely blurs now, having stared at them for so long that they’ve lost their meaning. Weird, almost alien shapes of sharp angles and incongruously sweeping lines decorate the screen, a jumbled mess barely at the edge of knowing.
By Alexander McEvoy10 days ago in Writers
- Top Story - April 2024
MidnightTop Story - April 2024
60 seconds… 59 seconds… Time was slipping through his fingers, though he clawed at the falling grains of sand, he could not stop the hourglass from flowing. Around him, the silence was deafening. He had taken over every screen in the command centre, putting the terrible seconds before the terrified eyes of his friends and comrades.
By Alexander McEvoy14 days ago in Fiction
The Dreaming City
Nothing is quite in focus. Nothing is quite the same as the last time I was here. But it is all familiar. It’s a strange place, one that I am aware of without being able to control. Somewhere, deep down, I know that if I take this street, just turn left here and walk for as long as it takes, I’ll find the house.
By Alexander McEvoy26 days ago in Fiction
Outpost
Salvage records: Abandoned Legion Fortress 387. Colloquial Designation ‘Fort Stalwart’ according to Legion Records. It is uncertain how the survivor reached this station. Though the audio log claims that the survivor was working on transportation technology on behalf of the Kith-rali Navy Research and Development Corps based out of Research Station 917 aka Wolf Station.
By Alexander McEvoy26 days ago in Fiction
Centurion
At some point, I stopped counting the stories that I have written. I paid attention to my readership, of course, those lovely numbers incrementing upwards are addicting. But I paid more attention to my readers, to engaging with some of the truly amazing people on this site, to learning what I can from the other stories represented here.
By Alexander McEvoy27 days ago in Writers
On Names
Rumour has it that few things in life are the same kind of stressful as choosing a name for a child. Having only ever had to name one hamster, some stuffed toys, an owl in Ecuador, and my myriad of fictional creations, I don't know how true this is. However, I do know that choosing the correct names for things in fiction is my least favourite part of the process.
By Alexander McEvoy29 days ago in Writers
The Archive: Part Four
Ghosts whispered in the dark. No one truly knows how many people died in the Archive, but the number is higher than most people are willing to consider. Yet still lower than the worst fears of the newest apprentices. Since the earliest days of delving, men and women disappeared into the infinite black below Koldrum, leaving no trace of their journey aside from the rare find of a mess tin or an abandoned respirator.
By Alexander McEvoy30 days ago in Chapters
- Top Story - March 2024
ImmerwaldTop Story - March 2024
Standing so still that one might think it was a tree, the Voice of the Immerwald glared at the Ambassador. The glare was felt, not seen. Its eyeless wooden mask betraying nothing, but it tore into anyone on whom the gaze turned. Like a spile driven into their souls, drawing out fear and guilt that pooled on the floor around their feet.
By Alexander McEvoyabout a month ago in Fiction
Among the Silent Trees
Gentle rain fell with a sound like tinkling bells to the ears of the hermit. He had learned to hear the music of the woods when he was a boy, though when exactly he had gone from boy to man was lost to him now. In a way, and after a fashion, the trees would speak to him sometimes. Not in the language of his parents, no. Those words and meanings were all but lost to him now, rather in a secret way he had learned… now when had he learned it?
By Alexander McEvoyabout a month ago in Fiction
