Excerpt
Zayera's Plight
There weren't always dragons in the Valley. The elders tell stories about how the last dragons were hunted to extinction by the Fire-Walkers before they were even born. Fire-Walkers learned how to control flames and used them to overthrow the Dragon Lords dynasty. The final Lords flew to Mount Vashery, but the Fire-Walkers found them. It is said to have been a fight for the ages. Both sides throwing different colored flames lit up the sky in colors never seen before, or since. When the last Dragon Lord died the Fire-Walkers laid claim to all lands originally owned by the Lords. Everything was fine at first, the elders say, but soon the Fire-Walkers became tyrannical, just like the Dragon Lords. Many people tried to fight back, but the masses were outmatched. Many lives were lost that day. The people still remember that day in a somber celebration known as Angel's Day. Now the people live under the thumb of the Fire-Walkers.
By Colt Henderson4 years ago in Fiction
Dragon Valley
There weren't always dragons in the Valley. I kind of thought they were mythical. At least that is what I was taught. I was also taught four sentences to a paragraph, but it is pretty much the end of the world. I will do my best, small diary I found, but I promise nothing. I think I forgot something. Oh … the date. It is currently February 17th, 2142.
By Colt Henderson4 years ago in Fiction
Rivers That Lead Nowhere
There weren’t always dragons in the valley. Aegon remembered well the time when the biggest threat for travelers along these roads were muddy patches that could twist a horse’s leg, or the snowstorms that were known to block passages for months.
By Nino Miljkovic4 years ago in Fiction
What Does a Mother Do?
Kaya paused with her hand on the door. She caught a faint glimpse of herself in the reflection of the glass. Her umbrella was broken. Work clothes? They were clinging to her skin, grossly soaked. Lipstick? Smeared onto her cheek. Mascara? Faded, looking like it bled out her eyes. Her hand shook as she entered the key and swung the door open. Eyes tightly shut, to hold tears back.
By Cera Arona4 years ago in Fiction
WHITE MAMA ACT II
Excerpt of Act Two of White Mama ACT II SCENE 1 SETTING: New York City AT RISE: Estelle is now homeless. She is sleeping outside on the bench at STAGE RIGHT in the streets of New York City. THREE BAG LADY enters. She sees ESTELLE asleep on the bench. She goes on STAGE RIGHT where ESTELLE is.
By Gladys W. Muturi4 years ago in Fiction
Blue
“There weren't always dragons in the Valley. There wasn’t always a valley. Before valleys became popular, most places just had big flat spaces— then someone decided to, quite literally, shake things up a bit. That’s how we got all this topsy turvy stuff going on with high bits and low bits. Somehow the high bits got higher and the low bits got even lower until some clever bugger decided it would be a good idea to throw fire into the mix— which of course set off the chain reaction of lava sprouting everywhere and before you could say ‘what’s that sulphur smell?’ we had volcanoes. I won’t tell you who brought in the water, but I guess it had to be done. Somehow the water went from up in the sky to down on the ground. Then it just kept going in a cycle until we had these long flowing snake-like things that went into big pools of goodness knows what, but it can’t have been good for anyone because before you knew it, we had this green stuff growing everywhere, I don’t know why it was green, and who got to decide what green even is but they clearly didn’t know what was good for themselves. Or for us. That’s how we got these big green bits and small green bits. Then of course, some clever dick decided we had to name all this stuff— dunno whose idea that was but of course it brought on disagreements on all sides because— what is a name? I don’t know why they decided these names, but they did, and now we have mountains and rivers and trees and grasslands and heather and council meetings and taxes and rebates and valleys. And that Valley in particular was pleasant and peaceful and quiet and nobody was that fussed about naming anything because… well we’d already been through all that. Nothing new. No more names. Peace was a plenty. We were full of peace.
By Matt Baron4 years ago in Fiction
Hellheart
The midnight sky was an orchestra from Hell. Lightning whipped across the sky with the fury of snapped violin strings as the bellowing whale song of thunder shook the ground below. Icy rain fell into the sea which surged against the cliffs to the beat of an idiot metronome. Upon a spire of rock that jutted from the churning waters there stood a lone watchtower. It was the last remnant of a long-forgotten city, its pock-marked stones, the scars that held the tales of countless years facing the harshness of the sea. Against the brunt of the storm, upon the seaward balcony, Maia stood staring into the sky. Despite the violence of the storm Maia remained unphased and although her long hair writhed in the wind the rain did not touch her; instead fizzing into steam against an invisible sphere of magic that surrounded her.
By Chris White4 years ago in Fiction
