Fable
Talking Owl Saves Rabbit
Once upon a time, in a lush green forest, there lived a wise old owl named Hoot. Hoot was not an ordinary owl, he had a special ability to talk. He could communicate with all the creatures of the forest, big or small, and was known as the mediator among them.
By Vikas Mishra3 years ago in Fiction
Lily and The Whispering Willows
Every night at midnight, the purple clouds came out to dance with the blushing sky. It was a sight that few had ever seen, for most were fast asleep by that hour. But for those few who dared to venture out into the night, they were rewarded with a spectacle that was nothing short of magical.
By Kelly Garrison3 years ago in Fiction
The Sound of Love: A 10th Grade School Romance
Eran had always been a bit of a loner in school. He had a passion for music and spent most of his time practicing his guitar. April, on the other hand, was outgoing and social, with a love for sports and a smile that could light up a room.One day, April was walking down the hallway when she heard the sweet sound of a guitar coming from one of the classrooms. She followed the sound until she came to Eran's classroom. There he was, playing a beautiful melody that captured April's attention.
By Eran yeager3 years ago in Fiction
Miscellany
“I’m worried about what this means symbolically,” said I to myself when the crow landed beside me on the park bench and said, “Your hubris will get the better of you in due time,” like a schoolteacher divulging the moral of a fable to a classroom full of six-year-olds. The bird’s attention fluttered between the spaces around it—the scant bright scarlet leaves hanging overhead on the tendrilous maple branches, the baby in the stroller being pushed by its mother on the gravel walking trail, a miscellaneous piece of trash placed in the grass by a miscellaneous human who may or may not have happened to be myself—but I digress. Though its attention was splayed among the world around it, its words were meant to bite me and me alone. Who else could it have been talking to? No one else was in earshot.
By Steven Christopher McKnight3 years ago in Fiction
For the Birds
Maybe I should not have come alone Henry thought as he crested the steep rockface. This section of the trail was the most dangerous with the price of a mistaken step being a fall of a few hundred feet. Practiced, with the luck of inherent talent, Henry assumed this “advanced” five-mile trail he found online would be nice change from the normal rock climbing he enjoyed.
By D.D. Schneider3 years ago in Fiction
