Charlotte Allen
Bio
I love adventure, fantasy, mystery, and romance. I love to explore life and ideas through books and stories.
Stories (6)
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Alter Genus
Cycle 1, The Abandoned City Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. Yet, they also say that the Numen Operation would be a peaceful project and that the Alteration was a flawless process without any symptoms that would be a detriment to the human lifeform.
By Charlotte Allen3 years ago in Fiction
The Crawling Smoke
Through endless shafts of darkness flickered a green beam of light. It was cloaked in a mist thicker than a filthy pond. Bars enclosed the narrow windows in the roof, obstructing the view and allowing the night’s icy breath to spew frost down into the dark, rambling chamber. Cages crouched in the shadows, streaked with inky, black fluid that refused to dry in the saturated air. It left the floor cold and wet. Plus it reeked of the prisoner’s nerves that had erupted from their lurching stomaches onto the rust-covered plates.
By Charlotte Allen3 years ago in Fiction
The Crawling Smoke
Through endless shafts of darkness flickered a green beam of light. It was cloaked in a mist thicker than a filthy pond. Bars enclosed the narrow windows in the roof, obstructing the view and allowing the night’s icy breath to spew frost down into the dark, rambling chamber. Cages crouched in the shadows, streaked with inky, black fluid that refused to dry in the saturated air. It left the floor cold and wet. Plus it reeked of the prisoner’s nerves that had erupted from their lurching stomaches onto the rust-covered plates.
By Charlotte Allen3 years ago in Fiction
The Bog-lings
The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. The first night, it had been an evening clenched by mist in the early spring of 1847. A gloomy night when the forest near Moeras crept with nocturnal creatures that howled or skittered across the sunken ground. The lonely cabin crouched under the shade of twin dogwoods that stooped over the slanted shack with needle-like branches and white blossoms that floated through the whistling wind. Through the sighing fog, you could just make out a rickety skeleton of the old fence surrounding the island of jagged rock that waited in the center of a churning, black bog.
By Charlotte Allen4 years ago in Horror
The Trials of the Steadfast
Chapter One, The Depths of Misfortune There weren’t always dragons in the valley. Nor were the foreign creatures ever seen roaming through the secluded farms of Mollager. Not until the dismal morning when cries of terror suddenly arose from the vegetable fields and panic-stricken villagers ran from their homes to the safety of the mountain sanctuary. Hissing shadows plummeted out of the darkening clouds. Word of winged-devils swept through the pandemonium as stampeding citizens were plucked from the ground like ripened fruit and dragged, screaming, out of sight. Many were slain, lying clawed and maimed upon the fresh soil of their land. The rest eventually found temporary refuge amidst the steep, rocky ridges that rose above the valley, leaving behind them their fallen and the dragons’ bellowing snarls.
By Charlotte Allen4 years ago in Fiction
