Check out my short story “Out Where the Buses Don’t Run Anymore” on Wattpad.com. It’s free! Here’s da’ link:
So I just watched this documentary about elephants and it really made me wonder about the whole ‘do animals have souls’ debate. Elephants essentially have funerals or viewings for their dead – they all line up and walk by the dead body one by one in a procession, yet many would argue that this is just some sort of instinctual thing. But if it’s instinctual to mourn, then you might say that we’re just animals and nothing more; am I right? I don’t know that animals have souls exactly like humans, but to say that they’re solely beasts of instinct seems like a stretch. Thoughts?
So the story I just finished and published to http://www.smashwords.com (search for “Ian Kraft”) is called “An Enlightening Lie About the Lucidity of Bees” and it is about the religions of the world, trying to understand how it is that we believe that God only gave one message that could redeem mankind whilst leaving countless other civilizations to be left out in the cold for centuries during which they couldn’t have known Christianity. I myself am a Christian and believe what I believe very strongly, but I still have a hard time swallowing the ‘everyone else is going straight to hell’ pill. This story is a search for answers that may be beyond us to find.
So over the past year or so, I’ve written about five novel-length works of fiction that I’ve published on http://www.smashwords.com. They’re available for pretty much all ereader devices (Kindle, iPhone, iPad, Nook, etcetera) – check it out! Here’s the link!
Ian the Bein’
AKA John of Origin
A Hero’s Arrival
Pit me as having made landfall
Upon ground that isn’t mine.
I don’t feel at home, don’t get it
Heroes don’t fight with weapons or words.
It’s like a flower, splitting the soil,
Like a turtle, leaving it’s shell
It comes through and exists plainly
Because that’s what it was supposed to be.
But now, now that we need blossoms,
Heroes are stifled, have to create anew
Because rationalism will tell them they’re limited
There are limits to life and heroes sense them too.
Comic books can’t be their reality—
Not the true heroes of this world.
Heroes love with a patch of dirt
Crusted to their shoulders like dried syrup.
And the love falls off as they stretch their skin
And we feel it because we were waiting
Waiting to feel that very dirt—
Just dirt, but refreshing because it’s everyone’s.
But the heroes can never stand out through set routes,
Can never show the world their love
Using means of doing so that already exist;
Not exactly anyway—they have to bring something,
Something like a frozen stone,
Bring it and then show the world that a fire can be put out
With nothing but a rock.
Seeds have sprouted
And I hope there’s nothing in the way.