Fable
Cayutha et Tristutha
Cayutha are creatures of the water, normally found by rivers and lakes. Travellers have oft found good fortune when meeting such creatures, and the name that these creatures are known by translates from the old tongue to mean "Helper" or "Aid". They are by nature very shy and it is rare for one to choose to manifest itself into a physical form before a stranger, but should one pique their interest or pity, they are a sure way for things to improve.
By Tomos Jackson2 years ago in Fiction
Boy and bear mother
Not far from the village in the mountains lived a greedy mother bear. She has always attacked every passer-by. She did not let anyone to work in the mountains, and often down the mountain harassment, secretly into the village, while catch cattle, while chase horses, constantly, make every family restless. The villagers were afraid to go to the ground or drive their animals to the pasture, all because the mother bear was so violent.how do I? So they decided to find a way to catch the bad guy. People drove her with iron tools and put their hunting dogs to scare her, but nothing happened. Once, a shepherd boy came to the village. Seeing the villagers frowning, the boy asked: "Kind uncles, do you have any problems?” The villagers told the boy how the mother bear had done evil. Hearing this, the boy said, " I want to catch her.” "Please don't boast!"People said to the shepherd boy," The young people in our village are no stronger than you, no stronger than you, and they can not capture the mother bear! Besides, you're still a child.” "Maybe it is so."Said the boy," It is not only about strength and courage, but something more for mother bear. I swear to you that I will not only catch mother bear, but also bring a living bear into the village.” "It was a little madman!” "Don't boast too early! We will only be convinced if you bring the mother bear alive.” "alright!"The shepherd boy went straight to the mountains where the mother bear lived. Mother bear and his son live in a deserted wooden house of a herman. The little boy quietly approached the small wooden room, found a gap to look inside, listened carefully, no sound, apparently mother bear was not at home. He boldly knocked on the door."Bang, bang, bang!” The son climbed to the door, saw a little boy and asked: "hello! Little boy, who are you looking for here? Aren't you afraid that my mother will eat you?” "I am afraid, I am afraid."The boy replied," But what can be done! Hunger forced me to forget the fear. I was an orphan, I went to the villages, I was hired to graze cattle, so to support myself. Now people are afraid of your mother to drive the cattle into the field, so I have nothing to do. I thank you very much, please give me something to eat, and I will tell you a story as a thanks to you.” Little Bear saw that the boy was very poor and gave the boy some food. After the boy finished eating, he told the bear the story. The story is more interesting than the other, when the most wonderful place, the little boy suddenly kept silent. "Speak, go on!"Said Little Bear, begging the boy. "No, I should go away."Said the boy." If your mother comes back and sees me, she will eat me!” You should know that little Bear is so fond of hearing magical stories that he did not want to separate with the little boy and asked to finish the story he had just told. "Well," said the boy, " I'm now hiding on the attic, and when your mother comes back, you ask her not to hurt me, and if she agrees, I'll come down and keep telling stories.” With that, the boy climbed up to the top floor and hid himself there.oneAfter a while, the mother bear came back, so the bear asked her: " Mom, a shepherd boy came here today and told me many beautiful stories, so I didn't want to let him go, but he didn't listen to me, because he was afraid that you would eat him. If the boy comes here again, I ask you not to hurt him, to leave him behind, and live with us, so that I will not sit at home alone all day! I played with the boy and asked him to tell me a story.” "Well, I don't hurt him."Mother bear agreed." If the little boy knows many good stories, then I want to hear them, too.” After hearing these words, the little boy climbed down from the top floor, and he continued to tell the beautiful story. He finished telling one story and told another story. Then spoke for the third... for the whole night. Mother bear was also very happy to hear the story, and decided to let the little boy live down. The little boy lived in the mother bear's house for a day or two days, he still told the mother bear and the bear boy stories, and thought about how to catch the mother bear, and finally came up with a clever idea. When Mother Bear was out, he made several holes in the roof, so that when it rained, the rain flowed into the wooden house from the place where there were holes in the roof, making the room like a stream, almost without a dry place. Mother bear was very angry and told a lot of complaints about the rain. "Please don't be angry, Mrs.Bear, I will build a new house for you.” The little boy took an axe, with nails, into the woods, a few days built a new house, in fact is a very strong and equipped with wheels of the big wooden box, after a while, and heavy rain, the little boy said to mother bear and bear: " please move into the new house to live! It's dry and comfortable there.” As soon as the mother bear climbed into the box, the little boy immediately closed the door, added a big iron lock, and then pushed the box toward the village. At this time the mother bear just understand in the trap, she was furious, but what is the use? The little boy whistled and sang, and pushed on. "Don't kill me, boy, I beg you to let me go, from now on I will never do bad things, whether horses or sheep, or even the little white rabbit in the forest, I will not bully!” When Little Bear listened to his mother's words, he felt very strange: " What makes my mother so afraid?” "The little boy took us to his house," Little Bear said to his mother. " We can live together and often tell us stories!” Mother bear said nothing also quiet down, screaming at the top of her lungs. The villagers heard the mother bear's roar, some picked up their forks, some took up their axes and ran over. In the same place they saw: the mother bear shut in a box! They all want to kill the mother bear. Then the boy said: "I have kept my promise. —— I have captured the mother bear alive, and I hope you can agree to my request: let the mother bear and the bear son go. Mother bear has been willing to repent.” The villagers thought about it and asked for advice from each other. They all agreed to release the mother bear and his son. But the mother bear and the bear son did not escape into the woods. They followed the man Once again, the bear's son asked the boy to tell a new story. The villagers said: "What the shepherd boy said is correct, in order to catch the mother bear, not only need strength and courage, but also..." what else —— let the little reader to guess.
By qiang wang2 years ago in Fiction
The Guardian of Everwood
In the heart of Everwood, where the trees whispered secrets older than time, lived a solitary figure known only as the Guardian. Wrapped in robes of moss and leaves, with eyes as ancient as the forest itself, the Guardian watched over the land with a silent vigilance.
By Mostafa Fathi2 years ago in Fiction
Underdogs Rise
In the heart of rural America, nestled between rolling hills and endless fields of corn, lay the quaint town of Greenfield. It was a place where everyone knew each other's name, where Friday nights were reserved for one thing and one thing only: football.
By Favour Omirin2 years ago in Fiction
The Whiskered pact : A Tale of Friendship Between Claw and Paw
In a world where instincts clash, Mittens the cat and Pip the mouse forge an unlikely bond. In the quaint village of Hollow Creek, nestled amidst rolling hills and babbling brooks, resided a timeless conflict. On one side, strutted Mittens, a sleek tuxedo cat with an air of superiority and a relentless pursuit of feathered prey. On the other side scurried Pip, a nimble field mouse with a heart that thumped a frantic rhythm against the constant threat of feline fangs. Their lives unfolded in a delicate dance of predator and prey, a story woven into the fabric of Hollow Creek.
By Monnade Mixoum2 years ago in Fiction
Infinite Man
Steeped in the supernatural and empowerment, we follow Cameron Ford, also known as Infinite Man, a formidable figure bearing a unique amalgam of superhuman abilities and a stolen predator suit, as he penetrates the netherworld to vanquish Valor, the son of the Devil, seeking retribution for an unspeakable tragedy. Endowed with the powers of Superman and Wolverine, his intrusion into the heart of Hell, promising encounters with Silent Hill's surreal horror, Raccoon City's abominations, and the twisted purgatory of Freddy & Jason, converges into a visceral tale of vengeance, formidable foes, and the confluence of multiple hells.The predatory pulse of vengeance quickens as I, Cameron Ford, receive a letter scrawled in blood from the darkest abyss, beckoning me into the bowels of Hell to confront my nemesis, Valor. My new family now hostage to his infernal whims, I don the memento of my interspecies conquest, the predator suit, an armor that shifts and wails with whispered intent, as I steel my resolve to descend into the inferno and confront the Devil's unsavory spawn.Adorned in the totems of my conquest, an arsenal gleaming with the finality of my purpose, I traverse the threshold, crossing the precipice between worlds. Each defiant step into the clutches of Hell unfurls a labyrinth of souls and suffering, the air thick with a palpable malevolence that my Superman and Wolverine linage claws at, urging me onward.Silent Hill looms—a necropolis shrouded in ashen fog, each step a cacophony of siren wails and an eerie calm. Within its veiled walls, the phantoms of my own past and Valor's blood-tainted footprints converge, with the predator suit's sensors flickering uneasily, hinting at unseen horrors that mesh seamlessly with this nightmare world. Revelation skirts its edge, tethering my sanity to this unhallowed ground as visions of my fallen wife intertwine with the gnawing hunt.The insidious tapestry of Silent Hill unravels its core, unraveling both past and present with a cruel dexterity that rattles even my indomitable spirit. A labyrinthine structure, once a schoolhouse, echoes with the skeletal gleam of faces familiar and forgotten, their hollow eyes a silent chorus of my failures. The pursuit of Valor, entwined with my private purgatory, blurs the line between just retribution and personal reckoning.My resolve, an adamantium rod, as I push through the substantiated air; Raccoon City looms, a nightmare reborn in a writhing mass of desolation and monstrosity. Hordes bearing semblances of humanity yet devoid of it, surge forth, their grotesque mutations a grotesque homage to a world rent asunder. Here, the clash of past and present superimposes, the remorseless claw of destruction interweaving with the desecrated downtown's decay.Among the writhing cadavers, my senses keen with an enhanced scent, I catch traces of Valor—a noxious amalgam of brimstone and arrogant indifference. The predator suit flexes with an otherworldly grace, its interstellar sinew acclimating to the fields of Raccoon City's blight, as my eyes lock onto towering monoliths, vestiges of pharmaceutical tyranny, which concealed much more than the sham of medicinal progress.Lurking within the crumbling edifice of pharmaceutical supremacy, a hybrid horror, the result of Valor's cruel machinations and eldritch science, salivates anticipation. The recoil of my Kryptonian punch meets the substance of necrotic flesh as we engage in a dance of grotesque might and relentless fury. Valor strives to manipulate the grotesque into the subjugation of Hell's rumbling domain, a sinister crown for his reunion with damnation.Blood stains the abyssal soil as the grotesque creation, a terrifying homage to the mutation-inducing T-virus, crumbles beneath my adamantium claws and the searing wrath of my heat vision. Valor's whispers, taunting and venomous, reverberate amid the ruins, igniting a fire within, unfueled by the oxygen-deprived air, craving finality. Raccoon City, a backdrop to our lethal ballet, bears silent witness to a primal struggle transcending two worlds.The encroaching void of Raccoon City recedes, yielding to a cascading of images hewn from nightmares. Freddy's domain, a dreamscape embellished with the macabre art of nightmares, where mental domination is the symphony that orchestrates fear. Here, time is a pendulum, endlessly swinging over the abyss of the subconscious, and with it, the troubling whisper of an impending nemesis, the dream demon Freddy Krueger.With each heartbeat, echoes of nightmares take form, twisted imaginings and mortifying illusions seizing my senses, exploiting vulnerabilities I deemed impervious. Valor, a fleeting specter, dances at the fringes, goading with the malevolent charm of a true devil's issue. My grip on reality falters, locked in deadly dreams spurred by Freddy's whims, while Jason, the silent sentinel, awaits his turn in this wraith-like ballet of horror.Defeating the irrational with logic flawed, I converge my will with the spirit of the predator suit, an amalgamated resolve that repels the tenebrous claws of mental entrapment. Freddy, a gaunt conductor in this symphony of the grotesque, defies my advances with leering specters that follow his pernicious baton. My claws sing through his deceiving visage, shredding the symbolism of his power and unveiling the man beneath the monstrous guise.Darkness recoils in agony as I slice through the fantastical mileu, severing the tendons of Freddy's control with vindictive precision. His reality crumbles, the dream world collapsing with each furious slash, as Valor's guise evaporates amidst the debris, a transitory victory mocking me with the knowledge that true reckoning lies ahead in the domain long co-ruled by fear and silence.Silhouetted against an inferno-drenched backdrop, Jason emerges, the compound of solitude and vengeance, and the antithesis to Freddy's cerebral warfare. With unyielding putrescent strength, he enacts his silent, brutal ballet—Valor's personal chamber of torments. Each step toward him is met with the unending cacophony of cold steel, our kinetic elegy underscored by the predatory whispers of the suit, urging the inevitable clash of titanic wills.The ebon-clad chamber a testament to Valor's sadistic opulence, contrasted with Jason's silent resentment and relentless pursuit. My vision, honed by valor, pierces the choreography of dismemberment and unrelenting fury as I leverage the fusion of Clark's strength and Logan's resilience, and my own unyielding force of will. Each laceration yields no blood, my body a forge, burning with a determination that defies the chilblained touch of death and the silent screams of Jason's past victims.Valor and I, a pause in the eternal dance, as the trinity of Hells converge into a crescendo of primal hatred and irrepressible might. The suit, a living symbiosis of intergalactic origins and terrestrial vengeance, aligns seamlessly with my purpose—a surgical severance of Valor from the tenuous tyranny of his lineage. My claws, now instruments of infernal justice, rend flesh with a precision born of transcendent fury, my wife's visage a benediction amidst the carnage, and my unborn daughter's innocence a hymn to tomorrow, now safeguarded by the infinity of a man reborn under the skulking gaze of Hell's The predatory pulse of vengeance quickens as I, Cameron Ford, receive a letter scrawled in blood from the darkest abyss, beckoning me into the bowels of Hell to confront my nemesis, Valor. My new family now hostage to his infernal whims, I don the memento of my interspecies conquest, the predator suit, an armor that shifts and wails with whispered intent, as I steel my resolve to descend into the inferno and confront the Devil's unsavory spawn. Adorned in the totems of my conquest, an arsenal gleaming with the finality of my purpose, I traverse the threshold, crossing the precipice between worlds. Each defiant step into the clutches of Hell unfurls a labyrinth of souls and suffering, the air thick with a palpable malevolence that my Superman and Wolverine linage claws at, urging me onward. Silent Hill looms—a necropolis shrouded in ashen fog, each step a cacophony of siren wails and an eerie calm. Within its veiled walls, the phantoms of my own past and Valor's blood-tainted footprints converge, with the predator suit's sensors flickering uneasily, hinting at unseen horrors that mesh seamlessly with this nightmare world. Revelation skirts its edge, tethering my sanity to this unhallowed ground as visions of my fallen wife intertwine with the gnawing hunt. The insidious tapestry of Silent Hill unravels its core, unraveling both past and present with a cruel dexterity that rattles even my indomitable spirit. A labyrinthine structure, once a schoolhouse, echoes with the skeletal gleam of faces familiar and forgotten, their hollow eyes a silent chorus of my failures. The pursuit of Valor, entwined with my private purgatory, blurs the line between just retribution and personal reckoning. My resolve, an adamantium rod, as I push through the substantiated air; Raccoon City looms, a nightmare reborn in a writhing mass of desolation and monstrosity. Hordes bearing semblances of humanity yet devoid of it, surge forth, their grotesque mutations a grotesque homage to a world rent asunder. Here, the clash of past and present superimposes, the remorseless claw of destruction interweaving with the desecrated downtown's decay. Among the writhing cadavers, my senses keen with an enhanced scent, I catch traces of Valor—a noxious amalgam of brimstone and arrogant indifference. The predator suit flexes with an otherworldly grace, its interstellar sinew acclimating to the fields of Raccoon City's blight, as my eyes lock onto towering monoliths, vestiges of pharmaceutical tyranny, which concealed much more than the sham of medicinal progress. Lurking within the crumbling edifice of pharmaceutical supremacy, a hybrid horror, the result of Valor's cruel machinations and eldritch science, salivates anticipation. The recoil of my Kryptonian punch meets the substance of necrotic flesh as we engage in a dance of grotesque might and relentless fury. Valor strives to manipulate the grotesque into the subjugation of Hell's rumbling domain, a sinister crown for his reunion with damnation. Blood stains the abyssal soil as the grotesque creation, a terrifying homage to the mutation-inducing T-virus, crumbles beneath my adamantium claws and the searing wrath of my heat vision. Valor's whispers, taunting and venomous, reverberate amid the ruins, igniting a fire within, unfueled by the oxygen-deprived air, craving finality. Raccoon City, a backdrop to our lethal ballet, bears silent witness to a primal struggle transcending two worlds. The encroaching void of Raccoon City recedes, yielding to a cascading of images hewn from nightmares. Freddy's domain, a dreamscape embellished with the macabre art of nightmares, where mental domination is the symphony that orchestrates fear. Here, time is a pendulum, endlessly swinging over the abyss of the subconscious, and with it, the troubling whisper of an impending nemesis, the dream demon Freddy Krueger. With each heartbeat, echoes of nightmares take form, twisted imaginings and mortifying illusions seizing my senses, exploiting vulnerabilities I deemed impervious. Valor, a fleeting specter, dances at the fringes, goading with the malevolent charm of a true devil's issue. My grip on reality falters, locked in deadly dreams spurred by Freddy's whims, while Jason, the silent sentinel, awaits his turn in this wraith-like ballet of horror. Defeating the irrational with logic flawed, I converge my will with the spirit of the predator suit, an amalgamated resolve that repels the tenebrous claws of mental entrapment. Freddy, a gaunt conductor in this symphony of the grotesque, defies my advances with leering specters that follow his pernicious baton. My claws sing through his deceiving visage, shredding the symbolism of his power and unveiling the man beneath the monstrous guise. Darkness recoils in agony as I slice through the fantastical mileu, severing the tendons of Freddy's control with vindictive precision. His reality crumbles, the dream world collapsing with each furious slash, as Valor's guise evaporates amidst the debris, a transitory victory mocking me with the knowledge that true reckoning lies ahead in the domain long co-ruled by fear and silence. Silhouetted against an inferno-drenched backdrop, Jason emerges, the compound of solitude and vengeance, and the antithesis to Freddy's cerebral warfare. With unyielding putrescent strength, he enacts his silent, brutal ballet—Valor's personal chamber of torments. Each step toward him is met with the unending cacophony of cold steel, our kinetic elegy underscored by the predatory whispers of the suit, urging the inevitable clash of titanic wills. The ebon-clad chamber a testament to Valor's sadistic opulence, contrasted with Jason's silent resentment and relentless pursuit. My vision, honed by valor, pierces the choreography of dismemberment and unrelenting fury as I leverage the fusion of Clark's strength and Logan's resilience, and my own unyielding force of will. Each laceration yields no blood, my body a forge, burning with a determination that defies the chilblained touch of death and the silent screams of Jason's past victims. Valor and I, a pause in the eternal dance, as the trinity of Hells converge into a crescendo of primal hatred and irrepressible might. The suit, a living symbiosis of intergalactic origins and terrestrial vengeance, aligns seamlessly with my purpose—a surgical severance of Valor from the tenuous tyranny of his lineage. My claws, now instruments of infernal justice, rend flesh with a precision born of transcendent fury, my wife's visage a benediction amidst the carnage, and my unborn daughter's innocence a hymn to tomorrow, now safeguarded by the infinity of a man reborn under the skulking gaze of Hell's
By Victor Robinson II2 years ago in Fiction
Shōgun: Historical Fiction at its Best
"Shōgun", an epic novel penned by James Clavell, is a thrilling tale of politics, warfare, and love set in the midst of feudal Japan. However, there's an intriguing question that often arises among readers: Is "Shōgun" a true story? While it is not an exact retelling of historical events, "Shōgun" is deeply rooted in real historical context, inspired by the adventures of a British navigator, William Adams, who landed in Japan at the start of the 17th century.
By imad mouhcine2 years ago in Fiction
