Adventure

That Dark Night
When I was a child, I went to the mountains to herd cattle, and my great-grandmother used to tell me to hurry home before dark, and to beware of the wild spirits that would come and go on the roads less traveled, because if the spirits were taken away, the children would get all kinds of diseases and might not grow up. Sitting on a small wooden stool in front of the fire in the dark, the old ancestor would talk about various legends of the night.
By DannyMox4 years ago in Fiction
The Red Flag
When I was a child, my grandparents had books with pictures in their house. There were many books in the west room. Because the paintings, many of which were in color, attracted the eyes and curiosity of children. On the book covers, many were tall portraits, some in gray Zhongshan uniforms with eight-horned hats; others in green uniforms with bright red lapel pins sewn on and military caps. He often stood alone majestically, sometimes sitting on a chair, standing in front of the city tower, holding the hand of an old farmer. Grandpa said that was Chairman Mao, the greatest man in the world.
By DannyMox4 years ago in Fiction
A Thousand Years of Separation
Chinese classical poetry is mostly about separation, the longer the separation the more poignant the rhetoric, the more distant the tone the more poignant and sad, the deeper the feelings between two people, the more intriguing the verses are to read. Chinese poets have a common characteristic, the sadder the state of mind, the faster inspiration comes, so beautiful poems are often written late at night when sitting alone under a lamp, and in the face of red peach and green willow, birdsong and flowers, the feeling from the heart poetry light and lively but rarely. Wang Guozhen once said that a beautiful heart comes from a melancholy heart, and that the first to meet a desperate situation is the last to sing.
By Jackmama4 years ago in Fiction
Dragon Boat Festival in Long Island
The beauty of Long Island is the beauty of relaxation, food and ocean scenery. But we had quite a bit of trouble for this beauty appreciation trip. Because the weather forecast said that there are high winds at sea, coupled with the Dragon Boat Festival holiday everyone travel at the same time, the first day of our self-drive trip, we only did a high action: into the island.
By DannyMox4 years ago in Fiction
The Dayou Garden
A sultry summer afternoon, a few tea friends and I were sitting in a small store next to the village park, blowing a fan, drinking tea, talking about the day.
By DannyMox4 years ago in Fiction
Build or Destroy Road?
In real life, it is often not easy to do a good job, destroy a simple thing. Put this reason into the road repair and destruction of the road is actually more appropriate.
By DannyMox4 years ago in Fiction
Lords of the Wings
Butterflies come in different colors but The Lord of all butterflies are the Red Ones. Birds comes in different colors but the massagers are the Cardinals.
By Mariann Carroll4 years ago in Fiction
Bunkers and Dragons
Chapter 1: It wasn't always this Way "There weren't always dragons in the valley." an old voice choaked out. I had ought to be asleep, but restless, strangling thoughts are keeping me from it. My eyes wondered around the closing darkness searching for the owner of the statement. A useless practice I had a knack for doing. people would always say something here and there out of curiosity I suppose which only roused everyone else in the dirt-caked bunker. I flinched. The musty smell of dirt filled my nostrils as another round of shaking begun and my body vibrated along with the noise. With it came with what sounded like thunder, but we all knew full well it was the sound of another roaring, destructive beast which everyone likes to refer to as a dragon. I used to tremble at these sounds with the most horrible thoughts at hand but now after it's constant occurrence it's just like a poke to my numbed brain. Although at times, like now, pulls me close to the wonder of what's going on above this sweat stained, stone bunker and how long we still have in it. I glanced over at my forest green, solid and nearly burnt-out electric lamp and turned it on. Hoping no insects come to overwhelm it although some company would be nice. Not that I was alone physically in this place but with everyone going through the trauma of...well everything that has happened in the past year nobody, but annoying, greedy little kids want to have anything to do with a stranger when they got themselves and everything else to think about. Being the person I am, I try and turn to the well the most notorious people of the group. The elders. They're very few of them now more than ever since people stopped treating their extra-special needs that come with age, because of the more pressing, basic needs of the group such as water, food and safety but they can be of some company if you can get past the smell of their side of the bunker which reeks of every horrible thing the human body can make. I've tried but, it's a very difficult thing to master. So, most of the time I try to be content with my small space in this dark, suffocating, overgrown bunker. Now I look around with a silent presence as everyone is in what we call sleep but truly is only a brief moment from our thoughts.Maybe this is what they mean by losing my mind because everyday that passes i feel myself drifting farther from reality as darkness consumes every image that once brought me joy. All i have is those memories of when my life was what we used to call normal! Now My mind involuntary replaying the words of the mysterious voice "there weren't always dragons in the valley", Boy was that statement so true, and I wish it weren't.
By Skyln Grace4 years ago in Fiction
mountains and maoams and a mouth torn to shreds
July 25th, 2020. 06:58. Not on the mountain yet. Mouth closed. Maoams still packed. “Dad,” I look at him hesitantly, having just reemerged from behind a car park bush for a quick wee. “You sure?”
By em4 years ago in Fiction
I wanted to study but ....
It was 7 pm, the room was dark and nothing was visible but a few books resting on the bookshelf. I just woke up anxiously as I had an exam the very next day. It was the first time I didn’t prepare well for the exam. I was in stress as I wanted to maintain my top position in school. In a hurry, I just had a few snacks and rushed out to my friend’s place. Two guards outside the villa asked me what I wanted. I told who I was and they called for my friend.
By Azhar Malik4 years ago in Fiction
The Weaver of Dreams
Wizel looked around the cave. He was a small, one foot tall, wizened old man with pointy ears and scant hair which was bald on top but he had grown what little he had left long so that it fell down over his ragged clothing. It reached into his brown wood hood of his jerkin which was tied with a bit of twine over his baggy cream trousers which in turn were tucked into his brown cloth boots. He was alone. Or he thought he was. He didn’t see Rak above him, lurking in the shadows. Rak was like him, similarly skinny but dressed in black, with black hair and much, much younger. Rak’s long sinuous fingers wrapped around the rocks which allowed him to cling precariously to a nearby flat wall and stare down at the bald head of the imp with the long pointed nose and long rheumy fingers. Those fingers were knotted like old sticks and as he tried to tie up a parcel with brown string Wizel made little grunting noises as the paper and string slipped away from him.
By Angela Timms4 years ago in Fiction
The white crane on green leaves
The name Xinjin has been around since the Northern Zhou Dynasty, which means it has been called Xinjin for more than 1400 years and is still "new". It is the southern gate of Chengdu, and the affluent scene south of Chengdu is constantly being renovated. Xinjin, it will be more "new" on top of "new". This time, I went there precisely for this "new" word.
By SondJam4 years ago in Fiction