HeyJaredDWiseManKnowsNothing
I have, somehow, become a Muay Thai fighter, an unregistered barrister, and an expat. Three ostensibly conflicting identities, fused into a single me. Come join me as I walk a path still being forged; you might learn more about yourself on the way too!
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 5
- Latest publication
- Jul 17, 2026
- Audience
- Checking…
- Earliest in this view
- Jul 3, 2026
Latest issues
Texas Turul (opens the original)
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It is not even 8 am when Jonah walks into the motel room, takes off his shirt and boots, hangs up his hat, unbuckles his jeans and crawls on top of the nearest bed, not bothering to pull back the covers. Sleeps like the dead, until past 2 pm.Wakes up, gets dressed, walks into the Texas sun.Downstairs, he strides across the parking lot towards the road. Turns a sharp right, almost a U-turn, and enters the parking lot right next to the motel, the one separated from the motel by a waist-high white
Texas Turul (opens the original)
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The horse’s lathered sweat is white and milky, standing out in stark contrast to the true black coat which covers its well-muscled form. A thin fountain of foam spills from the beast’s mouth and a quick snort, followed by a whinny, shows its growing discontent.Jonah notes the horse’s distress.And promptly decides to ignore it.The Winchester Model 94 Trails End Takedown, a lever action rifle filled with .30-30 calibre rounds, rests snugly in the crook of Jonah’s arm, its 6.8lbs a comforting heft
Whose? (opens the original)
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There was a scent to her, soft and alluring, when she lay in my arms, her head resting neatly in the crook of my neck, the back of her head giving comforting pressure to my jaw. She always smelled right, perfect really, a heady combination of natural pheromone and faint perfume making me feel both powerful and weak, sane and insane. But there was this distinctive scent, a twist on the sublime, when we were tangled together, two made one – it was what truly made me feel like she was actually mine
Wild’s Jungle (opens the original)
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Author’s Intent: Inspired by “Mythago Wood”, an impulsive tale jotted down in my smartphone’s notes section while waiting for a friend on a bench in Lincoln’s Inn Fields.The woodland was a mirage of hopeless splendor, of days spent worried and harried by the heroic tales of yore; stories concerning proto-mythical warriors and iridiscent victories, of heartsblood spilled and moonblood supped. This was not a mere ancient quarter of forested divinity, no simple locale of natural dominion - this was
Alzeitrapin (opens the original)
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The old man is the one who knows.The one who had known.The one who will know.Thunder’s trumpet trilled triumphantly, while Lightning’s limericks licked the skyline; lavishing and lascivious.Yes.The old man knew Thunder and Lightning; hence, the first name basis – the patronizing familiarity. In turn, they, the most boisterous of the Elements, knew the old man…as Raigandothe.True, true; they knew the old
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