Adventure
The Heart of Sarian
A barren wasteland, the definition of imperfection, lies right in the heart of our perfect, sugar coated city. My dad always used to tell me stories growing up, about a time, long before our generation, of a kingdom that once stood there. Ever since I can remember, I’ve had this dream, it’s the same, reoccurring, every night. In this dream, I’m at the bottom of a stair well, it’s spirally, made of brick, it’s cold and damp, in the back ground I can hear a faint voice, beautiful, almost like a sirens song, calling my name, the overwhelming urge to follow it sweeps over me and I start to climb, one step at a time, growing ever closer to the top, as I get closer, the voice gets louder, I can hardly contain my excitement, I start taking two steps, then three, before I know it I’m running, as I reach the top I come to a solid oak door, with a big brass knob, just as I’m about to open it ... Tiggy, TIGS!! ANTIGONE!! ... I’m shaken awake, as I rub my eyes I’m greeted by my little sister Elsie, she smiles softly and says “Happy Birthday Tigs.” handing me a small gift, wrapped with a bow, I look at her “Thanks Els.” as I start to unwrap the box “Oh, and don’t call me Antigone again.” she laughs and makes her way back out of my room. My eyes swell as I look at the gift, it was my mother’s old heart shaped locket, the chain had snapped not long after my grandma had passed away, I remember how upset my mum was, she had always meant to have it repaired but after she got sick it became her last priority. She had always said when I turned 17 it would become mine, it was sort of a family tradition, passed from generation to generation to the first born girl, I think even before the apocalypse. I undo the clasp and fasten it around my neck. “Finally 17 Mum.” I sigh as I stare at her photo on my night stand, “Wish you were here.” I jump out of bed, tying my unruly curls in a high pony, and throwing a pair of ripped jeans on, I pull a hoodie over my head, slip into my converse and make my way down stairs.
By Charlotte Price5 years ago in Fiction
Imagine Michael Scofield, Professor and Assane Diop’s Working Together
You may not have heard of these three characters. But they are the most intelligent characters that the world of television series has ever released. All three are characters from different series at different times and different scenes, yet their performances are breathtaking.
By Casimiro Filipe 5 years ago in Fiction
Fimbulvinter
The wind whistled through the forest of pines, small bits of snow falling from their drooping branches. A male elk moved carefully through the brush, followed by two females and a calf. They watched him, mimicking his steps to move safely through the woods. He lowered his face to the ground, brushing the snow aside to reveal a cluster of mushrooms. His calf approached, nibbling on the vegetation as the adults kept watch. A slight rustling of the brush in the distance put them on high alert, but they had no time to react before the snap of a bowstring resounded through the air. The buck fell, an arrow sticking out from his chest. The rest of the herd bolted into the woods, letting out sharp cries as they were forced to leave their only protector behind.
By Caleb Arentz5 years ago in Fiction
SHADOW AND BITCH
Do you see it? What? Jonah asked. Do you see the heart? No, I see the destruction caused by sellouts like you that couldn't accept anarchy. Sure, whatever, artist. I replied. I always said artist instead of asshole, sometimes horse, because horses are assholes.
By Darrin Smith5 years ago in Fiction
What We Fear In The Light
Entry – March 12th In the aftermath, we howl at the fetid landscape and wonder what we have done. Poison drips in the air around us. The toxic clouds drove us underground long ago. And there we wait in the potent dark. In our silence. We had the scraps to rebuild. Pieces. Eclectic fragments of a life extinguished. We pieced them back together like a defective jigsaw puzzle, incomplete of all its parts. We cobbled together a form of what we could call a new beginning.
By Vivian Noir5 years ago in Fiction
Locket or Bust
Poker chips clacked together. The deck passed to the player on the left. Doc grimaced as the big blind landed on him, but he hadn’t joined a high stakes game to turn chicken. The dealer handed out the cards, cigarette smoke swirling to the ceiling from a cigar dangling in his lips.
By B. M. Valdez5 years ago in Fiction
Another Sweltering Day
Another sweltering day. It isn’t like Val expected any different, it has been the same miserably hot and dry weather for the last three years, but it did not stop her from longing for a simple breeze of cool air or any break from the heat. Val pulled up her hood to protect her fair skin, she had learned from her past mistakes, she never wanted to experience another blistering sunburn again. Then she pulled on her mask and pushed open the heavy metal door. Unfortunately, it was time for her to leave the place she had considered home for the last twelve months. It was time to carry out her grandmother's plan to rebuild a safe haven for the survivors.
By Rose Chester 5 years ago in Fiction
A touch through time and space
He scanned the brownish gray, dusty, flat expanse around him as he walked. Looking for anything notable, any landmarks. Shifting spirits of wind given form by dust and grit seemed to reflect a listlessness. Buildings, flattened, molding from water damage and exposure against a dim sky with the night’s stars still visible from the lack of competing light. The former abodes and businesses were like big crushed cardboard boxes. There was so much nothing stretching into the distant reaches, but this was once a fairly decent sized village. He mentally switched to foraging mode. He wasn’t sure if it was something he was imagining but it felt like he could mentally, no, just feel where there was something worth finding. Maybe it was his imagination trying to keep him sane, but he had no system to his foraging methods and a fairly high success rate. It was as if by being alone, some unseen tendrils of psychic need for more sensory stimulation reached out, established a new way to cope with a bleak and wasted world. Or maybe it was just delusions of grandeur.
By Daniel Wisniewski5 years ago in Fiction
The Adventures of Jot the Carnet
Once in a far away land there was a tiny little creature called the carnet and his name was Jot. The carnet was a very beautiful and majestic creature that not many people had ever had the pleasure of seeing before. The reason this Carnet was so allusive is because it lived in the swampy haunted Forrest of Spirales. Spirales was a foreboding place filled with darkness and certain death to all that entered its depths. Now this particular carnet was not like the rest, he was very friendly and curious and that made his friends and family very unhappy, you see carnets are supposed to be the evil creatures that protect Spirales from the rest of the world. One day Jot decided to go for a walk in the swamp and talk to the trees; as he was walking near the edge of the forest he heard an unusual noise that peaked his interest. He walked all the way to the edge of the trees to peak out to see if he could see what was making this strange noise. He peered through the fog and to his surprise he found a two legged creature stumbling straight toward him! Jot had only ever heard stories about the two legged creatures his parents had told him about called humans. Humans were supposed to be extinct due to the sun exploding a few years ago and turning earth into a desolate place where only the magic creatures could survive. Jot knew he should go for help and leave the weary human to the grown ups but with every whimper and cry of the human, Jot became more curious as to how it had survived the fallout.
By Kari N Reynolds5 years ago in Fiction
Every Poison has an Antidote
In the decades that followed earth's annihilation the earth's wildlife regained its control growing wild and feral, climbing through the tall buildings that stood still made of granite and metal, stone and concrete. Alida was adept at climbing, and moving from beam to beam, with very little light to guide her way. Often she lost her footing and found herself in a concrete building watching for those Mansters that often took refuge there. She had vague memories of her mother telling her warning stories of the Mansters, formerly men, who like the wildlife turned feral their bodies mutating in death, traveling through the wilderness groaning over the fate preying on the alone.
By InkGalaxies~5 years ago in Fiction
