Historical Fiction
The Fall
In the beginning, there was naught but the heavens and the earth, and He that had created them. A vast and dismal plane ebbed of all color and life. The universe, an ocean of dreary, motionless tenebrosity spread thin across the expanse, like a pitch veil over a mirror, stands still as time has yet to awaken. All that exists is the spirit of Him. A ghastly ripple of brilliant light that glides across the ashen plane of existence, unimpeded and faster than time can account for. It hovers above the cold and soulless world like an artist deciding where his first stroke would fall upon an empty canvas. The darkness of the universe pulsates as this one ember of light sparks from the spirit. Another sparks off of the specter's being this time falling into the waters of the void. Like a stone in a pond, the ember ripples across all of existence in brilliant splendor. It spreads like flurries of snow alight with energy and color. The particles bounced infinitely from one edge of the cosmos to the other revealing what hid in the darkness. What was once grey and insipid, now glows with luminance and spirit. First was light, to see the things that are hidden. The spirit takes the form of a lustrous orb of light and surveys the empty world before it. There it stayed, light emanating from its being and pushing the void into the recesses of the cosmos.
By Paul S. O. N.about a year ago in Chapters
The Unfathomable Dance of Existence
How unfathomable is the beauty of existence! Every roadblock, every rejection, every end and every not so plausible moment is the beginning of something new, some beautiful reality that can turn every bitter ounce of mortality into an insightful lesson learned,
By Hridya Sharmaabout a year ago in Chapters
Kia Ford Attending The English Premiere Festivities
Taking five on the patio, the honorable loyal peacock discovered bushes rumbling. Rising from the lounge chair noticing an intriguing figure emerge, holding an ale cup. “What are you?” The promotional character questioned.
By Marc OBrienabout a year ago in Chapters
Mysterious story of wolf and a girl
In the shadow of an ancient forest, there was a village surrounded by tales of a mysterious wolf. The villagers spoke of its eyes, which glowed like twin moons in the dark, and of its ability to disappear into the mist. No one had ever seen the wolf up close and lived to tell the tale, but it was said that its gaze could reveal secrets hidden deep within one's soul.
By Nijanthan Ramanujamabout a year ago in Chapters
Portals & Paths: The Nine Gems
Chapter 4: LAK The temple’s double doors, large enough for a parade of howdah-adorned gharjja elephants to enter, opened like broken jaws and groaned upon exhale. The teakwood, plated in etched gold, depicted the sun god, Phra Athit, ascending heavenward on the backs of turtles amid a fanfare of fairies and sprites. A pair of fang-bared, monkey head-shaped silver pulls growled guard as bodies swathed in silks and sweat spilled out in a rainbow waterfall. Wat Phra Athit sat center on the palace grounds like an old, reposed god after a deep lament, gilded robes still glowing under the sun but draping only withered, shadowy arms whose reach had long receded into myth. Phra Ayuttia had constructed the temple before the monkeys had retreated to the northern forests, with seven spires as symbols of hope for the seven new nations rising from the foam of the Blue Samudra. As Ram exited the temple dedicated to the Siandali god of the sun, the Kandali ten-petaled Manipura blazoned above the doors quietly wept shame and sadness, misting the congregation in a yawning hunger. Only Ram, and Seeda, felt the pain.
By Jeffrey Scottabout a year ago in Chapters
