Excerpt
The Oval Door
Before starting this one, you may want to read this, which is the precursor to what happens here: *** Carys regained consciousness, after dreaming of bobbing about on a clear, blue water. It was serene, the sun warming her. She was happy to let it take her.
By Rachel Deeming2 years ago in Fiction
The Dark Threat. Content Warning.
"And so our quest begins! And what a jolly troupe we are!" Argan's delight was not transmitting to the other two. Baffor was packing his horse and trying to resist the temptation to knock out the annoying little arse. Argan the arse! He smiled satisfyingly to himself at his nickname, which he would keep secret. For now. But if Argan kept on being so fucking cheerful, Baffor might have to do something. For his own sanity. The only thing that would redeem Argan was if he had some good stories for the fireside.
By Rachel Deeming2 years ago in Fiction
death at my hands will be a mercy
Grimelda had lost many people in her life, but never a daughter. Humans might have said Malia’s grave was beautiful, her big tombstone at the head of it, smoothed over with fresh mud and colorful flower petals. To Grimelda, it was repulsive. But she knew that a human gravesite, crawling with bugs and rotting with flesh, was where Malia would’ve wished to be. This was where she chose to live, Grimelda reminded herself constantly, long fingers twitching. This was where she was happiest.
By angela hepworth2 years ago in Fiction
death at your hands will be a mercy
She appears to me like a ghost. She is immensely tall and slender and nearly blue-skinned with that strange grayish hue that distinguishes her from the rest of her kind, and her thin arms and legs ripple with muscle. Her long obsidian hair hangs low in curls to her waist, and her clothes are white and nearly translucent, hanging off her body like the wraps of a mummy. Her shimmering skin, glittering like fish scales, seems to blend into the gray fog of the air, casting her in and out of visibility as she moves towards me. The way she seems to slink up the hill without even touching it sends a shiver down my spine, her bare feet traversing across the air above the ground instead of sinking and squishing against the muddy ground as mine had.
By angela hepworth2 years ago in Fiction
Rocca di Cerere
Sicily | 1943 The three hour bike ride from Caltanissetta passed faster than they expected. The road to Enna was quiet, save for two local farmers transporting wheat, an elderly man on rickety bicycle hauling olives, and Garret’s need to transform a tree into a urinal. Garret found it odd that they failed to encounter any military convoys - allied or enemy - but he chose to rejoice at the small win. Clearly the enemy was on a full retreat, and his fellow brothers and sisters in arms were the cause.
By Kale Sinclair2 years ago in Fiction
Devil's Bargain
Screaming, Knell fell to her knees, her left hand stretched out with her right on the holy symbol on her side. She whispers prayers to the Light, begging and pleading for him to spare her partner whose body lies broken before her. Tears stream down her face– the Light’s will is not in it. Shrieking in frustration, she put down her hand as the light faded from Faden’s eyes. Weeping, she collapsed beside him, her head on his chest. She questioned why he had done it– why did he give his life to spare her? He had saved her, her idiot hero. Knell lay there for a long time on the side of the road at a crossroads to Salvayne.
By S.N. Evans2 years ago in Fiction
World in Tatters Ch. 29. Content Warning.
My four companions and I jump up, shocked by the sudden violence. The smell of blood fills the air as the crimson fluid sprays from Luther’s rent throat. The bodyguard holds Luther’s head back and watches, chuckling while his victim dies choking on and gargling his own blood.
By Kevin Barkman2 years ago in Fiction
Mother Goddess
Sicily | 1943 Rosalie delicately opened the two halves of the puzzle box, which were fabricated together by a well-camouflaged hinge, and removed the chiseled, onyx relic resting within. Afraid of dropping it, she cradled the object in both of her palms, allowing the sunlight to illuminate every inch of its glinting darkness.
By Kale Sinclair2 years ago in Fiction
