Dylan Dames
Bio
Stories (10/0)
The Eczema Unawareness Project (short story)
forty four days from release I stand in a small, excessively air-conditioned audition room. The tiles and walls are a lifeless gray color, and to the back of the room sits the only furniture in the space: a bendable table and three folding chairs.
By Dylan Dames4 years ago in Humans
Call Me Noah (short story)
In the fall of 2018, me and my best friends Alex and Trent went on a 4-hour road trip to Jacksonville. We planned to spend two nights there for a Sierra West concert, an indie pop artist we’d been obsessed with since for years. Per our adventurous-but-broke nature, we had a tradition of piling all of our things into Trent’s jeep and hitting the road, all agreeing beforehand that we would take shifts driving. I’m not saying this trip was my self-actualizing, burning bush experience, but definitely one I won’t forget. Here is the story of how someone (who is both a stranger and family at once) subtly transformed my life.
By Dylan Dames4 years ago in Humans
The Bay Wall
Two big seagulls swoop down on a French fry that floats in the sea. They wrestle with it, flapping their wings aggressively as the fry predictably splits in two. The birds fly away. I pick up another three fries and fling them into the wind. The bay wall I’m sitting on is rough, and I consider diving into the low tide.
By Dylan Dames5 years ago in Humans
How to Live Hardly—Part Two
Two mornings later, I wake up to my mom calling me upstairs. I live in the basement of our house, which is nothing like people think. I’d tell someone I live in a basement, but they don’t know I mean a dang Drake & Josh style, decked out air-conditioned basement. It’s spacious, I have privacy, and I have decorative control, which means I get the privilege to not decorate at all. Against my mom’s wishes, of course.
By Dylan Dames6 years ago in Humans
How to Live Hardly
I stare at the fog on my front and passenger windows. I want so bad to roll them down and back up, but I know the fog would just collect again and I’d be more annoyed. Stupid condensation. Peering ahead, I see Smoky exit the alleyway in a gray hoodie and sagging jeans. By the time he reaches my car, I’m already getting the words out.
By Dylan Dames6 years ago in Humans