Fable
Scrimshaw Seamstress
The soft crunch of feet through fresh powder, in an otherwise still silence of snowfall behind me, electrified from my spine through my finger tips as my flight or flight response was peaked. I froze. The kind of harsh, bone-chilling immobilization that comes from brutal decisions. The kind of decisions only satiated by blood.
By Conner Carpenter2 years ago in Fiction
No Land Weeps for Thee. Top Story - February 2024.
The ice provides in this old land. Each morning, I sit on the porch I built overlooking the water. Today, icicles cling for dear life to the gutters while their friends, the snow mounds, hang on the white birch branches.
By Matthew J. Fromm2 years ago in Fiction
Lynx Crossing
On a cold winter day, I'm driving along a northern rural road. In an AWD mode, I proceed cautiously as the road has not been entirely cleared after an earlier blizzard. Very few cars venture out and no one is tailing me, so I'm driving at 45 mph on a 55 road.
By Lana V Lynx2 years ago in Fiction
The Snow Faerie
“This is it,” I said to myself in my last moments. I closed my eyes and let my head rest against the snow covered ground. The noise of the snowstorm surrounding me helped my body drift away. As my thoughts dissipated into a void of my subconscious I saw her standing there. Unexpectedly, she reached out her hand towards me. Her skin appeared as soft as the snow. I reached towards her but she began to glide away. She smiled and her body lit up with an encompassing radiance. For the first time my mind felt at peace. Her silver hair shined brighter than anything that I could imagine. Almost in comparison to the sun. Resting on her head was a crown of silver snowflakes that wrapped her body as it trailed down into a dress. I thought that looking upon her would somehow hurt. Instead It felt complete. Somehow, I knew that this was meant to be. It was how it needed to be. I had no fear, and no regret.
By Ashley Shiflett2 years ago in Fiction
Saint Valentine
"So, I'm thinking that you'd like to live forever, right?" Valentine had been startled out of his skin, when the angel appeared, minding his own business, thinking about love. He was a loving sort of man. A man who loved God. A man who loved marriage. A man who loved Love. It was a great thing and should be treated as such, as should all the associated Love attributes: respect, trust, companionship to name a couple.
By Rachel Deeming2 years ago in Fiction
Last Light. Top Story - February 2024.
Frostbite bloomed in Anya’s feet. There were holes in her boots - so many in fact that she may have swapped her shoes with slicks of Swiss cheese, and wouldn’t have noticed a difference. She yearned to free herself from the sludge that was bloating her toes… but her father would never allow it. Her boots, along with Anya herself, cost more than they were worth.
By Rachel M.J2 years ago in Fiction
Princess Prickly of the Forest
I began writing this for a Flash-Fiction contest. The subtitle contains the three prompts I was given. The story just grew too large for me to enter it (100-word challenge), so I had to enter a different story. This one turned into this.
By Sandra Matos2 years ago in Fiction
