Excerpt
Mischievous Delight
The world had turned upside down, or maybe right side up? Delight crashed into my room/the garage, stumbling over metal pipes and gas canisters before finally tripping and falling over a half built engine. She was in tears, a strange sight for sure but my eyes found themselves drawn to the purple bruises circling her delicate neck, being partially covered by her shaking hand.
By Steph Ruff4 years ago in Fiction
Cynical Angst
I smirked at the memory of Depression’s shock as I followed the hallway right, left and around a blind spot before entering the dining room. Well, it was more like a cafeteria/hangout space but with its high ceilings, obtrusive ledges, and history of battle planning, many of the senior group members have come to calling it the War Room. I find that I agree with them as the room is reminiscent of a castle’s great hall, but with less gold and more blood stains. I grabbed a leg of chicken and some toast off the serving plates before seating myself at the head of the table. The youngsters provided excellent entertainment as they continued their game of tag, chasing each other around the long, oak table. A patch of red caught my attention as our newest member scurried by me. Seems Enmity was finally comfortable enough to relax her powers and interact with the other kids. She was definitely the youngest of the group at only six years old.
By Steph Ruff4 years ago in Fiction
Loving Delight
I found myself hitting the refresh button again for the gazillionth time. Still no reply from Cynical. The question was, was he not answering in order to spite me or had he simply not read it yet? I clicked refresh again as my jaw began to clench. Cynical knew better than to ignore me.
By Steph Ruff4 years ago in Fiction
Betrayal of Cynical Love
The city was grimy and dark, smog choked the color from the sky and the life from the weak. The streets were smeared with the blood of children who had gone out of their way to damage each other beyond repair. The city was overrun and Cynical liked it that way. He ruled over the darkened minds of traumatized kids, their pain redirected into glorious bouts of rage and violence as they sought to maintain control. The light and good were constantly at their throats, pushing and pushing for power until blood gurgled from their mouths, staining their teeth. This was Cynical’s city and he would not allow anyone to take it from him.
By Steph Ruff4 years ago in Fiction
Flashback
The slam of the dagger silenced Cynical. Love was talking, Cynical could see his mouth moving but the words were muffled; absorbed by the onslaught of memories Cynical found himself drowning in. That dagger, his third favorite dagger, had made that exact same sound when Greed had found him.
By Steph Ruff4 years ago in Fiction
The Minstrel Shelved Upon Himself a Sigh
The minstrel gazed upon a sleeping wood yearning for Celeste, his recent amour. Her husband was now long gone as was she and he could no longer reach her door. (She had no husband). Fairly innocent he was, a young soul, baby-faced and all. Never was the Minstrel found out to be the one she was with. They had been meeting at an apartment in the village. He had jumped out the window as surely as he could before ire dramatically slammed opened the bedroom door (by the occupant of the apartment, of whom she had stolen a key from, unbeknownst to him). Baby-faced Minstrel then ran in his under-dunders through the back streets of the town until he reached his own home. He didn't see Celeste for a while after that.
By Canuck Scriber Lisa Lachapelle4 years ago in Fiction
The Nerd Herder
Between planets aboard the USS Barclay in System D: The Executive Officer (The XO) and The Chief Information Officer (The Chief) both took their seats on the bridge of the USS Barclay, settling in with their snacks and drinks. While the ship was under way there wasn’t much to do. The two of them could deal with any standard procedure from the comfort of their usual seats of command. The XO was technically an amalgamation of the past experience of every crew member, downloaded and compiled during her manufacture. It had the combined expertise and experience to make any decision reasonably close to what a quorum of shipmates would have chosen. It’s core rested in the most protected area of the ship; it’s location known only by a select few. Today it had chosen to represent itself with an automaton in the shape of what can only be described as a monkey bat the size of a football. He gently rustled his wings as he wiggled around, attempting to find that most elusive perfect position.
By Nick Wilbanks4 years ago in Fiction
When The Magic in Promises Vanish
SUNDAY There are so many magical things about love --some that I didn't know about before I experienced it myself or would've expected for that matter, but I will definitely say that one of the most magical things about it is the firsts. Honestly, at one point I was thinking that we were at a point in our relationship that we barely haw anymore of those. We've done so much together in the times that we had that it almost seemed there was nothing more that we could do. We would repeat it over and over again, of course, happily, but I'm starting to rethink that mindset.
By Shyne Kamahalan4 years ago in Fiction
The Five I Wills of Satan
"For you have said in your heart: 'I will ascend into heaven, I will exalt my throne above the stars of God; I will also sit on the mount of the congregation on the farthest sides of the north; I will ascend above the heights of the clouds, and I will be like the Most High.' " ~Isaiah 14:13–14
By Sai Marie Johnson4 years ago in Fiction
Farahilde's Fantasy
Farahilde Ada von Masoch was the youngest of all the fairer, and more elegant young ladies of Limburg, Austria. Born of a scandalous affair between her mother, and a nobleman. She was born out of wedlock, and therefore unable to claim heir ship to anything he possessed, but to her fortunate fate her grandmother was the Baroness of the city. As it were Farahilde was sort of the orphaned Cinderella who by goodwill only barely skid by on being a pauper rather than somewhat proper. Nevertheless it was this lack of pure right to anything that made Farahilde linger more in the shadows than most girls her age. It wasn't that Farahilde was so young she could not be dated, but more so because of her dislike for some of the words others associated with both her, and her family; a subject of rumors that were the lifeblood of these sorts of people. She was stunning truthfully with ruby red lips, and ringlets of silken chestnut brown. They fell like a cascading waterfall over her shoulders, and framed a heart shaped face. She even possessed the pouting lips of a siren, and somehow all she wanted was to find the proper male to kiss them. Like something out of a fairytale as her prince charming descended the next fine twisting staircase.
By Sai Marie Johnson4 years ago in Fiction
