Fable
Cinderella
She was buried in the garden. The little girl was a pious and kind girl, and every day she went to her mother's grave and wept. Winter came, and the snow covered her mother's grave with a white blanket. The spring breeze blows, and the sun removes the silver from the grave. Winter turned to spring, and his father married another wife.
By frey dugas3 years ago in Fiction
Cherry prince
The cherry tree was the king, and the cherries on the tree were identified by the king as princes, ministers and commoners according to their size and shape. When Wang Sapling slept every day, the kingdom began to work and celebrate, they also have the problem of going to school, but a lot of small cherries do not like learning.
By frey dugas3 years ago in Fiction
A Lucid Dream
I found myself laying on a cold block of ice drifting with nothing but water encompassing me. I felt impeccably small, and for a moment, I viewed myself from a bird's eye view, staring down upon myself, just a speck of white floating in the calm sea. I abruptly came back into my body and jumped to my feet.
By Zeline Farney3 years ago in Fiction
St. Joseph in the forest
The eldest daughter was ill-mannered and ill-minded; The second daughter, though flawed, was much better than the eldest; Only the youngest daughter is filial and sweet. But the mother was very strange. She liked the eldest daughter best, but not the younger one, and wanted to get rid of her all day long. And often she sent the poor little girl out into a great forest, that she might lose her way and never return home, and that she might be driven away. But every good child has his own angel to protect her, the angel did not abandon her, every time to show her the right way home. Once the guardian did not seem to be near her, and the little girl could not find her way out of the forest. She walked on and on until night fell. Then she saw a faint light in front of her. She ran forward and came to a small wooden house. She knocked at the door, which opened; She went to the second door, knocked again, and a venerable old man with a white beard opened it for her. It was none other than St. Joseph himself. The old man said kindly to the girl, "Come in! My dear child, sit down and warm yourself in my little chair by the fire! You must be thirsty! I'll get you some water to drink, and there's nothing else for you to eat in the forest, except a few carrots, and you must scrape them before you cook them."
By graig asaph3 years ago in Fiction
Sell the rabbitking ear
one The rabbit king always felt that he had no other people's king air when this king. Look at the tiger king, lion king, Wolf king, majestic, or lead men attack, or accept the subjects worship. And you, on the other hand, aren't you king? Will only lead his followers to escape disaster, living in fear every day. The rabbit king decided to borrow the opportunity of the year of the rabbit to change his image, when a real king.
By graig asaph3 years ago in Fiction
The Good People of God
"Have you been saved by the Holy Spirit today?" The first thing that caught my gaze was the massive cross around her neck. It was hand nicked out of wood, about 8" tall, 4" wide and 3" deep, so deep that is appeared to be in 3D. It laid perfectly between her bosom and created a perfect trinity across her chest: the father, the son and the holy breast. It was attached to her pencil like neck by a large piece of hemp, the kind that religious orders use to cinch their robes tightly again incoming evils and I worried that if she leaned too far to one side she might be thrown off balance by the weight of the thing, strangled and cast down towards the unearthly fires.
By John Bowen3 years ago in Fiction
One Brave Indian. Top Story - August 2022.
I was on my way to mail a letter to a friend. It was a depressing letter, hand written or more accurately, scribbled, an obligatory reply to an encouraging communication in the other direction. A ‘thanks, but no thanks’ with all the depressing factors most anyone could concoct from a morose perspective on their lives. I had described all the reasons for my dismal failures of late, blamed everyone I could for every deficit I could account to them, and then concluded with a Psalmic reference to urge the reader to pray and not call the suicide hotline on my behalf. But something turned me aside on my path to the post office.
By Larry Berger3 years ago in Fiction
Cryptid Cosmos: Kettle Belly Ken
Introduction Back in the days of “The Great Crystal Rush,” miners and prospectors set out to the outer rim in droves. They went in search of the galaxy’s newest source of energy, in the form of the symbiotic crystals Omsilite and Aphsilite. As the demand for these new resources grew many strange stories came about from the those cold and lonesome wildernesses and the adventurers that dared to traverse them.
By Seth House3 years ago in Fiction
Who Or What Is The Woke Mob?
By way of metonymy, the 'woke' mob gets thrown around quite a lot in our modern political arena. So, what exactly do you think it means? And, what’s the best way to capture the essence of the message being conveyed, without being overly (or perhaps unbearably), critical of the Left? I’ve come up with a story to do just that. So here’s my personal reflection on what or who the 'woke' mob may be….
By Delusions of Grandeur 3 years ago in Fiction
