Daniel Sellon
Stories (6)
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The solstice and The Sun Maze
Beside a small quaint village nestled by the sea, there was a great labyrinth, at the heart of which lay a secret that only the sun could reveal. The maze was thick with dense foliage, hedges adorned with spiky plants, and long shadows creeping around every corner. So complex was this maze that many thought it to be impassible—a superhuman feat that only the old gods could accomplish. And for many who undertook this task, it was their undoing. People would wander into the maze with confidence, but after a day’s struggle leave confounded. Some would enter with a plan, and then, after a few hours appear at one of the entrances in a drunken stupor. For you see, the architecture of the maze was not the only thing that made it so challenging to traverse—it was also a puzzle for the mind. They called it “the maze of memory,” for as you passed into the concentric circles of the labyrinth, one uncovered past memory that overwhelmed and troubled the waking mind. And so, much superstition grew, and people shunned the maze out of fear. But as no one had reached the center, the mystery of the meaning of the maze remained.
By Daniel Sellon2 years ago in Fiction
The Calling of the Crows
The ravens silently soared through the skies, circling the great summit. To the north they saw great oceans whose waves glittered in the sun—and the great sailboats, whose yellow sails billowed in the breeze. To the south they saw the sprawling deserts, whose dunes were like old shawls casting off dust—and men and women in tattered rags rising and falling with the contour of the earth. To the east they saw jubilant jungles whose roots and leaves were tangled in knots—and men and women chopping through the foliage with machetes seeking fruit. To the west they saw fertile plains, whose green grass was streaked—like the windswept hair of the men and women that traversed them. And so, as the ravens saw, so did the great man with the silver beard dream, in the deep glittering cave beneath the mountain. But one raven broke off from the rest and descended into the empty city surrounding the mountain on all sides. He was looking for a certain boy that could wake the sleeping hero. For the man in the cave had dreamt long enough and the world needed him now more than ever to unite the four corners of the land.
By Daniel Sellon3 years ago in Fiction
Speaking Through The Purple Clouds
Every night at midnight, the purple clouds came out to dance with the blushing sky. They would swirl into different shapes and symbols—stretching seamlessly from sea to sea. And at this time—elegant and ethereal—the clouds would assume a form of comfort for those that crowded the tiny planet. Where it was hot and dry, where the sun scorched the land into sandy spits, the clouds became great whales swimming through an ocean of violet vapor. Where it was cold and damp, where the glow of the moon fell upon icy waters, the clouds became woolly sheep roaming through purple pastures. No matter what country they hailed from, nor the color of their skin, the people were called together by the clouds, whose many contours were carved into their collective memory.
By Daniel Sellon3 years ago in Fiction
The Ascent of the Dragon Hearted
Chapter One: The Tower Made of Red Clay There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. In fact, there really wasn’t much there at all—just a little meadow with a few rolling hills, a small orchard of apple trees and a well that never went dry. It wasn’t much, but it provided everything they needed. When the land was dry it would rain; when the spring came the crops would grow. In many ways it was a tiny paradise—but most certainly a place that they could call home. And to the people, there wasn’t anything beyond this valley: not only because they lacked imagination or because all their wants and needs were met, but also because the land was surrounded by tall cliffs as smooth and as white as pearl—unscalable and impossible to see beyond. They were trapped in this prolific space, but at heart they were at peace…until the day the tower was built—that’s when the dragons came.
By Daniel Sellon4 years ago in Fiction
