Adventure
A plague of imps
Stumbling along alone, the child struggles to make progress through a clearing in the forest, oblivious to the whump, whump, whump of great wings swopping down from behind him. He is almost relieved to feel the creature’s long talons close around his shoulders, the great strength of the beast lifting him up into the air. His only reaction is to glance around at the scaly head of the monster, momentarily connecting his gaze with that of the reptilian eyes of his captor. A barely perceptible mutual nod seals the understanding between them before the winged serpent curls its neck around and down to the child’s face, connecting its course mouth with the infant’s gentle lips. A mush of welcome nourishment is exchanged. Satisfied, the child returns his gaze to the ground receding beneath him.
By Raymond G. Taylor3 years ago in Fiction
A Silver Lining
An arm held up to shield his face from the wind, Havel strained to look at the dragon. The light shone directly into his face. If winds could bite, this wind was gnawing. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, almost drowning out the noise of the world around. What sounded like windchimes made of chainmail laid a static backdrop to the louder clanking sounds caused by the beast before him. Everyone in the village was used to the sound of faint tapping and clicking, but this white noise had once enveloped and maddened some of the First. Melrue herself had apparently been among them. She was no stranger to Havel – her sheer stature and force of nature had paired itself with wit and kinship. This had allowed her to become one of the most contributory members of the village. The very place where he had woken up that morning had been almost entirely constructed from the materials she alone had salvaged and brought back from the Montux.
By Kristina Krejzova3 years ago in Fiction
Serpent's Calling
Serpent heard the sound before its source came into sight. It was a noise unlike anything she had ever heard before, a high pitched screeching and wailing that made her stomach churn. Fear took a hold of her, quickening her heartbeat and freezing her muscles. But soon the initial shock turned into another powerful emotion: curiosity.
By Thomas Perkins3 years ago in Fiction
Wretched, Beautiful War Bearer
Dear Christopher Paolini, My name is Christina Zakarian, and I’m from Montreal, Canada. I want to take a moment to commend you for all your masterpieces. I was twelve when I first read Eragon, and I have loved the series ever since. Your writing and imagination inspired me to create my own little world. I never showed my work to anybody for fear of being looked down on or exposed. But this is my first time showing my world to someone, and I hope you will enjoy it. Gardova is my special place, and I invite you to dwell in it for a moment. Thank you for inspiring me. Thank you for showing me how it feels to have magic at the tip of my fingers.
By christina zakarian3 years ago in Fiction
Nasitrlan Day
The fourth rounded moon after the third cycle of winter, a signal etched against the black of night surrounded by the gleam of speckled twinkles. A signal that would pronounce the day of holy celebration. The day the first dragon entered the earthly universe: Nasitrlan Day.
By James U. Rizzi3 years ago in Fiction
