Jesse Leung
Bio
A tech savvy philosopher interested in ethics, morals and purpose.
Stories (44/0)
De Nombreuses Perspectives
A bullet whizzes past the dancers in the party, like a hornet straight from its nest. Eventually it finds its target, hitting the groom of the wedding through his chest and straight through his heart, killing him instantaneously. The screams from the crowd and the frightened bride mingled with the panic and stampede as people rushed to get to cover.
By Jesse Leung20 days ago in Fiction
Human Nature
The crisp, crunching sound of snow under Al’s foot sent sparrows darting from their hiding places, chirping out warnings of an encroaching stranger. The snowshoer avoided the cones of snow around each tree and stayed within the pathways of the known backcountry trail. Hearing a whimpering nearby, he paused as the snow continued to fall, blanketing both land and sky with white fluffy cotton. Following the sounds of the weak cries, he discovers a bloody scene next to a spruce tree, where a hunter’s trap had been laid. All around the trap was blood splattered here and there, with a trail of the crimson spots leading northward along with small footprints; that of a common red fox. As Al approached the animal, he knew time was of the essence, and he immediately bundled up the injured leg which had been badly mangled by the metal trap. Too weak to even growl, the fox limply allowed itself to be carried by the man, who walked as fast as he could back to his truck, trying to remember the way back to town. He knew that the nearest veterinarian was several kilometres away, which meant time was of the essence and that every minute counted. Putting the red fox in the backseat, he gently covered it with a winter jacket, urging the animal to hold on, and for a moment, the fox lifted its head and looked at his rescuer, as if thanking him, before falling back into unconsciousness awaiting his fate.
By Jesse Leung5 months ago in Fiction
Long Lost Bottle
In a bottle distribution facility in the mountainous suburb of Coquitlam, Cuppa woke up for the first time after having been molded into shape and filled with pristine stream water infused with ozone. Looking around him, he noticed there were five other bottles just like him strapped together by a piece of plastic, and even more plastic covered all around them, sealing them from the outside world.
By Jesse Leung5 months ago in Fiction
Late Hatcher
A young Andean Flamingo ruffles his feathers as he wakes up, expecting to see his caring mother, but she was nowhere to be seen. Snow had fallen since the previous night, forming a white blanket over the frozen surface on the lake. The young flamingo looked down at his plumage, which had been encased in ice and snow, trapping him to the lake, which was his refuge and source of food. Ironically it was now a death trap, holding him hostage to the ice, and preventing him from reaching his food underwater. Crying out for his mother, his hope of survival dropped lower and lower, as the snow, ice and bone chilling water sapped the life out of his weak body. Mustering all the strength he had, he flapped his wings and pulled his legs in an attempt to free himself from the ice. Pulling out of desperation and the will to live, he gave it one last chance. Squawking loudly and encouraging himself on, he could only imagine being free form the ice, given a second chance. But after several attempts he flopped down defeated, resigning to his fate of becoming food for scavengers like vultures or foxes. The snow gently covered his body, burying him in blankets made of snowflakes and slowly lulling him to a deep sleep from which he would never awake from. As his eyes slowly froze shut, the last of his breath was swirled up into the icy gusts, lost among the mountain winds.
By Jesse Leung6 months ago in Fiction
Landfall
David caught a frisbee midair as if he had foreseen the throw beforehand, then raised an eyebrow at his fourteen-year-old, his mouth creasing into a frown. “Sol! What have I told you about throwing frisbees inside? Now off to your room till Mom says you can come out for dinner.”
By Jesse Leung6 months ago in Criminal
As Numerous as Sand
I walked with my head down, trying to weave my way out of the hustle and bustle of the marketplace which was teaming with people all seemingly headed somewhere. Despite being my home, I felt lost in Mumbai, lost in the organized chaos, lost in the sea of men, women and children, waiting to be found.
By Jesse Leung8 months ago in Fiction
The Silent Donkey
Yousif held tightly onto the reigns as he strolled into a merchant town, a dusty oasis and respite from the deserts of Arabia along the spice route. Many-a-eye wandered towards his satchels filled with vanilla, salt and pistachios, along with the aromatic spices that gave away their presence. As he drove his donkey forward, eager to be out of danger, he stopped next to a bazaar where all sorts of merchandise were being traded hands, all under the watchful eyes of the royal soldiers tasked with ensuring all trades were taxed and contained no contrabands.
By Jesse Leung9 months ago in Petlife
A Horse's Life
“Easy does it, come on out bucko! There’s a good boy.” Said the horse carriage owner Steven as he led the young, four-year-old male Draft horse out of the trailer. With his eyes covered to prevent being spooked by the oncoming traffic, the youngling carefully trotted out of the horse trailer after a two-hour ride from Aldergrove in the east.
By Jesse Leungabout a year ago in Petlife
Pearl Divers
Admiring a conch shell which he had picked up from the sandy beach while walking home, Nallamuthu studied the intricate details and patterns of the spirals and cavities that made the shell beautiful. He found it interesting that something so beautiful was also so fragile at the same time.
By Jesse Leungabout a year ago in Families
The Need To Steal
Running past vendors selling everything from cabbage rolls to clothing that all had the same dull, grey colour typically worn by the peasant class, a boy clutched his bag full of stolen jewelry. Petrified by the guards hard on his heels, he ran as fast as he could, nearly colliding with a large woman carrying a sack of flour.
By Jesse Leungabout a year ago in Fiction
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