Adventure

Tick Tock
The whispers on the wind howl past. The leaves on the trees scream as they rustle and the pale light of the moon glints off of the puddles that litter the ground.
By C A Boldrini 4 years ago in Fiction
Runners of the Underground
Twenty-Two years ago she was born. Twenty-Two days ago, she found out who she was. And why she was born. Antoinette was born into a family of angels. Her mother kept her hidden in a cottage outside of the city until she turned twenty-two years old. She was raised knowing of the London streets, and what lurked under them. She was raised to be terrified of the rampant beasts that loomed under the broken man-holes of the city. The stories her mother told her haunted her. During the day, in her nightmares. She was always looking over her shoulder.
By Sierra Lynn4 years ago in Fiction
3. A New Life
William panicked. He did not want to be spotted but equally knew he was in danger if he got found too far out to sea he resolved to try and get a view of the deck so he could find the right moment to make a dash for the side and try to swim to shore.
By Simon Curtis4 years ago in Fiction
TCoE: Adara's Curse
Chapter Two Cost of Conspiring “Don’t allow your wounds to transform you into someone you are not.” - Paulo Coelho
By Mel E. Furnish4 years ago in Fiction
The Last Child
The court of the Crimson King laughed in time with the sound of a slicing blade and the unmistakable soft thump of flesh striking flagstone. He heard this through the grand doors before which he was bound and gagged as he awaited his own justice to be meted out at the hands of this King. A guard on either side, heavily armored and bladed in case the adornment of chains he was regaled in failed, were his only companions. Bound like an animal upon a wooden cart, link after link securing his frame kneeled and gagged in a subservient pose.
By Mark R. Cieslak4 years ago in Fiction
End of war
My mother used to sing when she cooked. Her gentle voice would fill our home as she swayed to the song. Her food was always terrible, but I’d eat a thousand more of her meals just to hear her again. She would smile as she set the plates down, brush the hair out of my eyes and sit opposite me.
By Millie Stevens4 years ago in Fiction
The Texas Freeze
“Judy, they say if you don’t like the weather in Texas, wait a week.” One of dad’s many colorful adages floated through my thoughts as I wiped the sleep from my eyes. Then, I was a child who complained about sweltering Austin summers when the pavement fried eggs and hair clung to the back of necks like stubborn noodles to a plate. Now, I was 28, alone, and at the mercy of the biggest winter storm to hit Texas this century.
By Sarah4 years ago in Fiction
A Thief Upon the Lake
Thwack. Thwack. Thwack. Derah swung his fist high above his head and brought it down onto the frozen surface of the lake with every ounce of strength he had left. His drive relentless. His hope unwavering. He had to break through. He just had to. He was her only hope.
By Alan Mehanna4 years ago in Fiction
A Soul For A Soul
Andrew Cannon, an oncologist at Perryville Medical Center, sits at his desk in silence as he overhears a conversation between two employees in the break room.
By Natalee Welch4 years ago in Fiction
Merekandr's Beginning
As he rounded the bend in the road, Ward breathed a sigh of relief when he noticed the flicker of lights in the distance. It had been nearly eleven hours since he had left the last imperial post, and though he knew the villages were sparser once you left the imperial highway, he had hoped for a much shorter distance between stops. It had started raining shortly after breakfast this morning, and although it hadn’t really increased in severity all day, eleven hours of foot travel in even the lightest of rain showers had still soaked his traveling cloak thoroughly, and it clung in places that made him reconsider his typically conservative vocabulary. The rain had made his walking staff slick, and gripping it had starting rubbing raw spots on his palm. He normally didn’t use a walking staff, but he had recently inherited this one from a deceased grandfather, and felt a peculiar compulsion to have it accompany him. Its newness was wearing on his hand, but he felt better for having it. From this distance, he couldn’t tell through the rain how big the town was, and what kind of lodgings awaited him. He imagined a warm-hearth, a spit of roast pork, chilled ale, and a bed with a real mattress and linen would be nice.
By Andrew LaBree4 years ago in Fiction
Foxfire
I couldn’t hear anything. Nothing. Why couldn’t I hear anything? The fire enveloped me. I couldn’t feel the flames licking my flesh from every direction, as if it could not stop itself until it reached my very core, scorching my soul. I was blinded by its light – streaks of gleaming white and pale yellows, searing my eyes. I knew I was burning, but why couldn’t I hear it. Its crackle and pop grew hungrier in the moments before the beast lowered his head and rammed his skull into my chest, sending me back into the starved flames. But now, my body the midst of its flames, it was a vacuum.
By Loretta BR4 years ago in Fiction
Kayaking the Tittabawassee
Arriving at the van, Carl unlocks the doors. Everyone grabs their bags to switch out shoes. After switching to their water shoes the gang walks over to the river access where the kayak rentals are at the entrance. They check in and hurry down the ramp to their kayaks. Craig, who is a bald, athletic, tanned guy with baby blue eyes, is at the EZ launch putting in kayaks and assisting everyone to get on the water.
By Mandy Jo4 years ago in Fiction