Kelly Ganson
Bio
I am a writer and artist of fantasy, horror and Steampunk. My art is self taught as is my writing. I was born and raised here in Albuquerque, New Mexico, USA. I hope you all enjoy my works!
Stories (5/0)
Paint by Kelly Ganson
CUTHBERT STILES stood upright, taking in the smell of iron. As he breathed in that metallic scent, he sighed with satisfaction. A slow smile spread across his face as he admired the room, painted in that beautiful shade of red. A color so loved. Another happy sigh sounded as he passed to the bathroom, completely oblivious to stickiness under foot.
By Kelly Ganson4 years ago in Horror
Seeing Death by Kelly Ganson
Seeing Death by Kelly Ganson IT began with Death. He watched as the violent storm approached. The swirling, black clouds let their sparks of lightning fly as they funneled about. A macabre silence enveloped the area as the storm built up for its attack.
By Kelly Ganson5 years ago in Horror
My Art
I am not the greatest artist out there, but I do like to think I am good enough to be seen and appreciated. I am not institute educated, or have a degree in my art, but this is me. (I am a self-taught artist.) And maybe my art isn't to everyone's taste, but I do work hard at creating the picture. I create a story with my drawings.
By Kelly Ganson5 years ago in Journal
My Lady Tree
My Lady Tree By Kelly Lee When I was a boy, I remembered seeing the tree. It was the most beautiful tree I had ever seen. It stood there majestically with part of the trunk and roots growing on the large boulder that made up part of its base. Bright green leaves decorated the branches, which seemed to glow in the sunlight. The wood and bark were lovely shades of brown, mossy green with red. It grew just outside the castle gates near a small ravine that took water to the village surrounding the fiefdom and the farmland nearby.
By Kelly Ganson5 years ago in Futurism
The Rosebush
The Rosebush By Kelly Lee The rosebush had been there almost as long as the house in which David Moore’s grandmother had lived. He remembered the rosebush for most of his life by the simple memories of his grandmother taking care of the plant and treating it with kindness. He knew the bush was there and that it existed, but he had never actually paid attention to it.
By Kelly Ganson5 years ago in Futurism
