Violet Cook
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Stories (2)
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The Last Train
Sophie opened her eyes and didn’t know where she was. There was movement beneath her, gentle jostling and clattering, and as she sat up, she found herself looking at dark-stained wood paneling, a large window showing the world whizzing by at speed beyond, and beneath her were white cotton sheets on a single bed up against one of those dark-stained wooden walls. It didn’t make sense to her, she realized, that she was on a train, especially a train that looked like this. When had she boarded? Where was her ticket? On inspecting the room, she couldn’t find any evidence of her belongings, or a ticket, and she couldn’t fathom why she was wearing a long white nightgown, of all things. She had never even bought such an item of clothing; it looked painfully dated, with lace at the cuffs of the long, puffed sleeves, and sitting against her collarbone where it trimmed the gown’s collar. Her long, dark hair was up in a braid down her back and, stranger still, there was nothing on her feet.
By Violet Cook3 years ago in Fiction
Death/Rebirth
There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. Even now, the place was barren of them. But stories told of a time when they filled the Valley with light and magic, bringing those from far and wide to observe and give thanks for the bounty these magnificent scaled beasts bestowed upon the kingdom. Such variety in their appearance would be a sight to behold at the peak of the summer, when dragons of opalescent hue, whose scales shone with a rainbow of color in the midday sun, and those with skin of the darkest obsidian, flecked with slivers of silver that would look like endless starlight under a full moon, would draw admiration from far and wide. They had been the center of their lives for hundreds of years, living alongside their power and in perfect balance with their magic, all together in a period known as The Great Peace.
By Violet Cook4 years ago in Fiction
