Adventure
The Blind Path to Freedom
The darkness in the tunnel was absolute. The experience was like what they imagined being in deep space would be like. The void that surrounded them needed to be filled with something, and the darkness itself was drawing their bravery from them. The group had given in to English’s leadership, each person relying completely on the hand in front of him or her to lead the way; were they to lose hold of one another’s hands, disaster would surely ensue.
By Kevin Gaylord4 years ago in Fiction
The Jesus Gene
The Jesus Gene by: Dennis R. Humphreys (the Dream Writer) based on the Book of Yeoshua ben Yeoseph David Bartholomew sat at his desk in the heat. The lab's air conditioning went out again for the third time in a month and made working intense. Sweat dripped off the end of his nose and he was constantly cleaning his glasses because of the sweat and body oil, catching on the frame, only to make its way down over the lens.
By Dennis Humphreys4 years ago in Fiction
Chosen
Drifting through the vaulted hall, the ethereal servant glided quickly past tall shelves full of trinkets, gifts and stolen treasures, gathered over millennia. Ahead, a blue glow intensified with proximity to the immense sanctum, a stoney perch jutting out into a galaxy of stars. The border bridging gates to other realities as well as uncharted worlds. At least to him. His master knew them all, quite well. Approaching the female titan, he slowed and gazed to the large two dimensional map of the world they lived on.
By D J Smithson4 years ago in Fiction
Chosen
Within the room, hidden deep underground, Arthur had grown comfortable in the welcome light of candles that illuminated the table. Littered with notes, tomes, jars full of powders and other ingredients, his workstation had also become the normal haunt of this alchemist. Though working for the order of paladins, ordained by the church and by the king, had its own rewards as well.
By D J Smithson4 years ago in Fiction
Chosen
As the sun drew low over the distant horizon, the foothills of the Black Mountains painted an amazing picture, passed the church steeple and baron’s castle to the northwest of this neighborhood. Kavayen eyed the lazily drifting clouds painted in brilliant orange, red and shadowed in purple and dark grey. From behind, Elizabeth hugged him, laying her head against his broad shoulder. Placing his right hand upon her own, he caressed it lovingly as they stood in the kitchen.
By D J Smithson4 years ago in Fiction
