Adventure
A Safe Place
The song of the morning is the birds’ tune carried by the soft wind, keeping time with the church’s bells. It seems to lighten the sky itself by churning a fluffy pinkish orange to a solid daydream blue. Floating music notes seem to sneak into the ears of my lethargic body, and I’m not ready to remove the soft blankets from the skin they’ve been tightly wrapped around. I want to stay in bed and listen to the birds sing to the angels. But the sun becomes less shy as she replaces her lover in the sky, her rays pop out of her shell slowly as if someone is taking their time to crack open the atmosphere. Their tough fingers pressed against the night sky as they split the deep blackness in two, popping stars like balloons and unbraiding constellations. Brighter colors washing over their fingers and dripping down the sky until the sun's light is bursting through the deep blue canvas. The rays warm the concrete and make it too hot for bare feet but warms the air just enough for cold lemonade. How could I stay in bed instead of going out to appreciate such a beautiful day, God has blessed me and allowed me to witness His mother earth. Plus I had plans with Esmerelda, whose skin was probably already itching from the grass in her lawn as she watched butterflies leap from flower to flower. She wouldn’t pay homage or thank God for today, she’d thank the universe or something else. I could never understand, my family thanks God for everything (so does hers). My family talks of God and Heaven so often it sometimes seems like we’re already there. Light always shines through our windows and bounces off the white walls and hand painted pictures of a black Jesus, the gospel Mama plays makes it feel like I’m just outside those golden gates.
By Michelle Morton3 years ago in Fiction
The Grand Era: Beginning of the End
It was early morning, the birds were starting to wake up. We were crouching in the forest’s vegetation, and approaching the camp entrance, careful not to alert the goblins guarding the entrance. The border fences were crood but lined with stolen pots and pans, crossing them would raise alarm; we wanted to get in and out with as little combat as possible. What’s more, the stench of their waste heaps made my nose burn. I tried to spot Elander to my left, but he was nowhere in sight. What they say about the stealth abilities of wood elves is true. We had been in the same training group for the last 3 years, and this was our last mission before we were accepted into the order.
By James Stacks3 years ago in Fiction
The Grand Era: Beginning of the End
In the beginning of this world there were two entities. Powerful deities whose central natures opposed the other. One, the Ordered Xalbus, the other, the Aberrant Drishca. One peace and harmony, the other chaos and destruction. The Xalbus sought to create more in this world and so he created the elementals: Fire, Earth, Water, and Air. He created them to help shape the barren existence into a veritable bounty of wonder.
By James Stacks3 years ago in Fiction
Greed
A small oceanic planet of a passing trade route. Caligann Point a large artificial island sat between the only two landmasses on the entire planet. It was a popular stop for travelers between the two continents. No spaceport but I popular stop for traders as it was the only land mass that could rise with the tide during the rainy season that lasted half the year. A never ending pour of water on the dark side of the planet. The super massive star and the speed of the planet made each year quite short.
By Eric Baird3 years ago in Fiction
Oh The Humanity! - Chapter 1
1985… Richard woke up in his cushioned plum colored chair, as a thin stream of blood ran out his right nostril, muffling the smell of burning metal. He frantically rushed to undo his seatbelt as the source of the stench grew stronger. Upon finally undoing the mechanism he used to find simplistic, he stood up to rush out the gaping hole behind him, but remembered Calvin, who had taken the window seat. Richard turned his head left to see the unconscious boy, laying limp in his seat, with shallow cuts from shattered glass across his arms and face.
By John Freed3 years ago in Fiction
The Earthenware Jar
It was the one item we were told never to touch. It stood there in its place of honor, an arched recess in the wall of the kitchen where we would sit and eat our breakfast during that long, hot summer. A brown, dirty-looking earthenware jar with a broken handle and glue marks showing around the mouth.
By Raymond G. Taylor3 years ago in Fiction
