Fable

Tale 11: Infernal Pack (part 2)
The horseman and the winged cloud above halted just a few horselengths away from Žarko; he thought he could reach him with a few quick, deliberate jumps, if only his fool horse would obey him. Now the two riders surveyed one another, cautiously and inquisitively. Žarko knew full well the kind of impression he made on people when he scowled; he imagined that those people felt quite similar to how he was feeling at this moment. The horseman confronting him was downright frightful. Through the murkiness that accompanied him and the shadows that concealed him, he saw a heavy black piece of armor that covered his chest, and underneath that armor, a sheath of thick chain-link ringmail draped across his body like a shirt, dropping to his thighs; in his cloaked belt was a saber of enormous proportions, even by Žarko’s measure, yet the horseman did not even rest his hand on its hilt, let alone have it pulled out. He was attired entirely in black, so uniformly dark that it was hard to discern any gaps between the armor, his sheath, and his legs. Žarko was barely able to observe that the rider wore full black gauntlets extending down his arm to his fingertips, and long black boots up to his knees – the only thing unblackened was his livid white face, bordered by his raven black hair draping down to his shoulders. This whole appearance elicited a strange impression – one that was sinister, yet at the same time lordly and almost beautiful. Whatever aberrant sort of beauty this was, it was tainted by the glow of his blood-stained eyes and red-blotched cheeks, and the deception in his posture and performance seemed obvious and purposeful, as if staged in a play just for Žarko’s eyes to see.
By Nikola Stefan4 years ago in Fiction
The fox and the turtle
The fox has recently been very distressed, he thinks he is very clever and smart, but other animals always think he is cunning and cunning. In order to change this impression, the fox tried hard to do good deeds to help others, but still others would say "look, the fox is pretending to be a good person, and must be playing any ghost ideas".
By megangochoa4 years ago in Fiction
The kitten playing the Rubik's Cube
Kitten's home is very remote, every time after school, other students can go around to play, Kitten had to go straight home, otherwise they could not eat dinner; at the weekend, whenever Kitten invited his classmates to play at his home, the students always think his home is too far, are not willing to go. Therefore, Kitten was always alone at school and did not even have a friend.
By megangochoa4 years ago in Fiction
Compassion
A young boy wandered into the local temple one day and came upon the Master. The boy struck up a conversation with him and found the man quite funny.
By J. Daniels4 years ago in Fiction
The Fable of Hilary Soames
Before our story begins, here is a short spooky poem to set the scene: Are you sitting comfortably? *** The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. At first, its flame was barely perceptible. A flicker. A glint. A nervous tremble in a pitch-black night.
By Caroline Jane4 years ago in Fiction
The disappearance of the elephant
I learned about the missing elephant from the town's elephant house from the newspaper. On this day, as usual, I was awakened by an alarm clock set to 6:30. Then I went to the kitchen to make coffee, bake slices of bread, turn on the FM radio, and spread the morning newspaper on the dining table with slices of bread. I always read the newspaper in order from the first page, so it took me a while to get to the story about the missing elephants. The first page covered the issue of trade friction between Japan and the U.S. and strategic defense ideas, followed by the domestic politics section, the international politics section, the economics section, the readers' letters section, the readers' column, the real estate advertising section, the sports section, and then the local section.
By sissytisha4 years ago in Fiction
The Timeless paint
In my old house in the west of the city, there is an old wooden lap chair. The so-called circle chair is our dialect there, in fact, that is a small family's tai shi chair.
By sissytisha4 years ago in Fiction
Fever
I had a cold as a child. If it is small, it means that it is like nothing during the day, and it will not be delayed. The mother poured the white wine into a small bowl, lit the match and threw it into the wine bowl, and a blue ethereal flame quickly rose from the mouth of the bowl. When the burnt-out matchstick lost its vitality and left thin black marks on the bottom of the bowl, my mother dipped a little bit of hot wine and rubbed my chest, back, head core, armpits with the palm of your hand... …
By david4 years ago in Fiction
The lust
Why should love be measured by loss? Between those two words - love, loss - bit on each side of them, is how all of this happens in the first place: the other word: desire.
By Jackmama4 years ago in Fiction
Tale 10: Infernal Pack (part 1)
Infernal Pack The small group which had headed out from the village and upon their journey in the late afternoon, as the sun began to drop, travelled on for as long as Žarko could make out the path in front of them. After a peaceful night, another calm day of travelling followed, with a long afternoon break. Senka had the impression that Žarko had no particular goal in mind, but neither she, and even less so Vuk, dared to inquire about this. They left all decisions to the hulking man on the horse, and were pleased to stay back and disturb him as little as possible, as he had been in a sullen mood ever since they had left the village.
By Nikola Stefan4 years ago in Fiction
The Story of My Dog Lucky
I was particularly sad recently because I gave lucky away from his home. lucky was a family dog, or to be more precise, a schnauzer puppy that I had. For various reasons, I recently returned him to his original owner. The original thought that this is a best way out, but I can not imagine that this owner did not keep a few days to give it to a stranger, worse is the stranger adopted not more than a month, lucky is unknown, life and death is not known. I was so upset and regretful that I couldn't let go of it.
By DanilBos4 years ago in Fiction
Martial Arts in My Dream
I still remember in that night-covered city, four friends sitting on a high terrace looking at the sporadic lights below, a cigar passed in each other's hands, the thick body of the cigar was hard to suck, so I could only hold it in my mouth, the taste of the burning tobacco was a little bitter, a little pungent. On the low table between the two, the small stereo was playing a love song by Li Zongsheng, and the low voice was full of love for someone who didn't know if it was true or not. We accompanied by wine shallow conversation for a moment on the future of the idea, laughing and flirting with the upcoming into the jianghu and slightly childish face, perhaps drunkenness has long brought it to the real dream world.
By DannyMox4 years ago in Fiction