Adventure
My Son
The beefy captain squinted at Trajan, then his fat chin doubled, then tripled as he looked back down at the papers. The captain lethargically looked back up and met Trajan’s eyes, blinked, paused, handed back the papers, and waved him into the short tunnel. Several of the city’s fortress guns roared in the distance. A speaker crackled on and The Muezzin spoke.
By Walker Calderon5 years ago in Fiction
The Storm Shelter
Darlene sat on the dirty wood floor of that old house, hands pressed tightly together. It had been three days since she actually prayed . With food getting low and how cold the nights had been she wasn't even sure if any one was listening , so why bother. This morning was different , there was a level of desperation in her silent stance. It had been three weeks since " The storm of the Century", and the earth felt silent. She didn't know for sure because she wouldn't dare step foot out of the storm shelter. It was old and remote, but had kept her and Lauren safe these last few weeks, and if this was going to be anything like those end of days movies ,she just knew what ever was outside needed to stay there . "Nope no Zombies for me" she thought. She was just happy she could make it there in time. Well for what happy was worth at that point.
By Shani Holloman5 years ago in Fiction
Stranger with the Locket
Far off the Eastern Coast is one of the last remaining settlements free from any outside threat... Up until today at least, as many bewildered settlers begin to gather outside before three domineering bandits known to most as Techs. Accompanied with the Techs are three of their Stooges. Once-human monstrosities that are void of all life, surely being controlled in some horrifying way. As settlers continue to show, a deafening high pitched horn is set off by the Lead Tech. “Alright, people. I’m giving you a minute for you all to step out,” he says with a stern expression.
By Derrick Ryals5 years ago in Fiction
Serenity
We had been trekking across the Ramdinian desert for a few days. The ends of my scarf lightly whip the back of my neck. I readjust it to cover my mouth and nose to prevent inhaling the sand the wind is kicking up. The sand is just barely tolerable compared to the heat. The temperature here rises to 125˚F, and ironically the wind just makes it worse. Greco and I can’t rest though. We need to find shelter before nightfall, or the Chimeras will hunt us down.
By Katie O'Shea5 years ago in Fiction
Project Noah
Casey was always a difficult child. Argumentative, willful, and sometimes just plain mean. He never got along with any of his classmates, and the only beings he called ‘friends’ were in the forms of pets, plants and even insects. He spent his days after school playing with his creature friends all the way until suppertime when his mom would gently coax him back indoors.
By Alex Perez5 years ago in Fiction
West of the Fracked Lands
I. I drop my pack at my feet as I step under the scraggly shade of a tall jackpine at the edge of the wildwood. The relief when I close my eyes is immediate, a black curtain dropping on the fir greens and birch whites swimming across my vision in the blazing heat. It’s hard to believe that the first Somali refugees coming to work in the gas and oil fields last century were called "ciyaal baraf," children off the snow.
By Jesse Warewaa5 years ago in Fiction
The Watermill
Was Springtime. The grass was still slightly soft, but we were able to enjoy the day wearing our T-shirts and dresses now. It was the early 19th century. I was in my late 20's with three children. Was full-blooded Iroquois. Experiencing the New World each day. I had married, the son of Lester Howe. An explorer in the Mohawk Valley, of New York. Lester had built a business, sort of museum called Howe Caverns. It was a tourist attraction for many. An underground gem. My husband Chester and I occasionally took a canoe ride in the little river through parts of the cave. I had met a magical man. His father studied magic, a few times during the week. Told him, this will help him everyday and to never forget what powers you really have.
By Janet Rouge5 years ago in Fiction
