Kendrick De Wayne Art

06/15/2026

For countless winters I slept without name,

Though kingdoms would rise
and kingdoms would wane.

No child could find me,
no elder could see,

For I was not growing
on mountain or tree.

Men knew their people,
their valleys, their creeds,

Their songs and their stories,
their customs and deeds.

The baker was baker,
the sailor was sea,

The shepherd was shepherd,
and that was enough to be.

Then whispers met power.

And power met gold.

And something was purchased
that could never be sold.

A stroke of a feather,
a mark of a quill,

And I was awakened
by someone’s will.

I swallowed old banners.

I buried old names.

I entered the courts
and rewrote the games.

A million were gathered
inside of my cage,

Though many had never
shared blood, tongue, nor age.

I cannot be touched.

I cannot be weighed.

Yet kingdoms have trembled
wherever I stayed.

I ride upon stories.

I feast upon fear.

The louder I’m questioned,
the longer I linger near.

Some worship my shadow.

Some curse what I’ve done.

Yet I was once nothing
before I’d begun.

Born of a bargain,
a pen, and a page—

Tell me, dear traveler,

What am I?

06/14/2026

The Crimson Crow and the Innocent Lost in the Empty

A Dark Fantasy / Psychological Horror

The Empty is not a place. It is a sentence.

Beyond death, beyond dreams, beyond even Hell itself, there exists a vast and impossible wasteland where the guilty are cast. It is a realm built from regret, hatred, obsession, and punishment. Mountains drift through the sky. Rivers flow upward. Voices whisper from beneath the ground. Every soul trapped there carries the weight of its own crimes, reliving them endlessly.

At least, that is how it is supposed to work.

When the ancient judge known as The Crimson Crow discovers that an innocent soul has somehow been imprisoned within his realm, he is horrified. For countless ages he has overseen the punishment of monsters, murderers, tyrants, and betrayers. Never before has a mistake been made.

The innocent man awakens alone in the heart of the Empty with no memory of how he arrived. Everywhere he turns, the realm tries to convince him that he deserves to be there. The landscape shifts to torment him. Lost souls accuse him. Shadows wear the faces of people he loves. Yet no matter how deeply he searches himself, he cannot find the crime that condemned him.

As the innocent struggles to survive the nightmare, the Crimson Crow begins a desperate pursuit across his own kingdom. The deeper he ventures into the Empty, the less control he possesses. Ancient forces stir beneath the wasteland. The realm itself seems unwilling to release its prisoner.

Soon the Crow discovers a terrifying possibility:

The Empty may not have made a mistake.

Something older than judgment is awakening beneath its foundations, and it has chosen the innocent as the key to its escape.

Now hunter and prisoner must find one another before the boundaries of the Empty collapse. If they fail, every guilty soul ever condemned could be unleashed upon reality itself, and the only being standing between the living world and eternal darkness will be a remorseful judge seeking redemption… and a man who never should have been there at all.

In a world built for the damned, innocence may be the most dangerous thing of all.

06/13/2026

It started as a beautiful day.

Their anniversary.

They spent it the way they always did—together. Walking, laughing, sharing stories only the two of them understood. As evening came, they dressed for the night. Their finest clothes. Red and black.

Their wedding colors.

Their colors.

To them, it was a celebration of love.

To the gang watching from the shadows, it was a calling card.

A challenge.

A reason.

A foolish excuse for hatred.

The two men had lived beautiful lives. They helped anyone who needed it. They’d give you the shirt off their backs if they thought it would make your burden lighter. Many people called them friends. Many people owed them kindness.

And then came that night.

The anniversary of their marriage became the anniversary of their deaths.

I remember looking into the sky afterward.

It was black and red.

Four great crows circled overhead, screaming and squawking as though they carried a message no human tongue could speak. They wheeled through the clouds again and again before suddenly rising higher, disappearing into the darkness.

Then they were gone.

For a while, nothing happened.

Then the murders began.

But this time, it wasn’t the innocent who were dying.

It wasn’t the kind.

It wasn’t the weak.

It was the predators.

The hunters.

The men who believed fear made them powerful.

One by one, they fell.

And every time another body was found, people swore they heard wings in the distance. Swore they saw flashes of black and crimson crossing the moon.

Rumors spread through the city like wildfire.

Some said it was a man.

Some said it was a monster.

Some said grief itself had grown feathers and claws.

As for me, I don’t know what to believe.

I only know two good men were taken from this world long before their time.

And I know that afterward, something answered.

Something dark.

Something angry.

Something that seemed to know exactly who deserved to be afraid.

So tell me, Lord…

What kind of sorrow grows wings?

What kind of love survives death?

And what could make monsters tremble in the dark?

Because whatever it was…

The city has never been the same since.

06/11/2026

The enormous crystal doors closed behind them with a deep BOOM that echoed through the tower.

Little Alex jumped.

Trevor nearly climbed the wall.

“Did you hear that?” the giant spider whispered.

“It was a door,” said Big Alex.

“It sounded aggressive.”

“It was a door.”

Trevor wasn’t convinced.

The giant tarantula looked over his shoulder.

Then under his abdomen.

Then under his satchel.

Then under the satchel again.

Big Alex rolled his eyes.

“You’re checking for fairy bites again.”

“I saw one.”

“You always see one.”

“I DID see one.”

A tiny blue fairy zipped past Trevor’s face.

The giant spider yelped.

“THERE!”

He swatted wildly with two front legs.

The fairy spun through the air, insulted but unharmed.

Mr. Finn looked over his shoulder.

“Trevor.”

“Yes?”

“They live here.”

“I know.”

“So why are you surprised?”

“Because they’re everywhere.”

Mr. Finn laughed.

Trevor did not.

Not even a little.

The spider hurried forward and examined one of his legs.

Then another.

Then another.

Big Alex shook his head.

“Still think they’re gonna turn you into a zombie fairy spider?”

Trevor froze.

All eight eyes slowly turned toward him.

“How do you know about that?”

Big Alex smiled.

“I know lots of things.”

Trevor didn’t like that answer.

Not one bit.

Because Big Alex spoke to him exactly the way Little Alex did.

Only worse.

Like he’d known Trevor for years.

Like they’d already had these conversations.

Many times.

Far too many times.

It made the hairs on Trevor’s legs stand up.

The giant spider hurried to catch up with Little Alex.

The tower stretched endlessly around them.

Crystal floors.

Crystal walls.

Phoenix banners hanging from impossible heights.

Warm golden light danced through the hallways like living fire.

The place felt more like a nest than a castle.

A place built to hatch something.

Or protect something.

Or hide something.

Mr. Finn walked ahead of them in silence.

That worried Trevor.

Normally Mr. Finn had something sarcastic to say.

Normally he looked tired.

Today he looked frightened.

The old phoenix wasn’t paying attention.

Not really.

His mind was somewhere else.

Somewhere dark.

Somewhere dangerous.

Moments earlier he had been alone.

Alone with a secret.

A secret that had spent years buried.

A secret that should have stayed buried.

A secret that now had a face.

Little Alex’s face.

Mr. Finn tightened his grip on the book tucked beneath his arm.

Don’t think about it.

Not now.

Not here.

But every time he looked at the boy, the same question returned.

The same impossible question.

The question that had begun tearing holes in everything he believed about the Crystal Castle.

Behind him Trevor stopped walking.

Mr. Finn turned.

“What is it now?”

The giant spider stared at the crystal floor.

At first nobody understood.

Then Trevor pointed.

There in the reflection beneath them—

for only a second—

Little Alex’s reflection wasn’t standing beside Big Alex.

He was standing alone.

And behind him…

someone else.

A shadow.

A boy-shaped shadow.

Gone before anyone could focus on it.

Little Alex blinked.

“What?”

Trevor swallowed.

“Nothing.”

Mr. Finn’s heart nearly stopped.

Because Trevor had seen it too.

And if Trevor could see it…

then the secret was no longer staying hidden.

Not for much longer.

06/11/2026

On the spark of ambition, I feast.
I borrow another’s shadow
and turn victories bitter.
I turn strangers into friends,
then teach friends to measure wounds.

The more I’m fed,
the hungrier I become.
I can burn a kingdom
without striking a match.

I am born where comparison
makes its bed.
I sharpen invisible knives.
I make blessings feel borrowed,
and joy feel like a debt.

What am I?

06/11/2026

Have you ever wondered how interesting people come up with interesting ways to present their reels to you. Well, I’m such a person who can come up with almost almost anything. That’s that jack ball tray color thing that I have snap watch this as I show you how to create a riddle and be sure to watch the riddle. It’s a doozy.

06/11/2026

06/11/2026