Fable
An Audience with the Beast
The peak of twilight was the hour of mischief for little Enna and Joseph, and though this was not their first night of misdeeds, none before had been so perilous. Crouching, they weaved with the clumsy feet of children through the wheat field. The boy was a head taller than Enna, though her heart was bold, and she led him through as swiftly as she could. Silently as they tried, the dogs’ barks grew more fearsome, and the gold of the setting sun highlighted every frightened wrinkle of the boy’s gaunt face.
By Edward M Vera4 years ago in Fiction
HELL OF HADES
Behind in the distance the three-headed dog’s mad barking and baying subsided as he rose high enough, out of the catacombs and necropolis. He climbed the many flights with vigor in the luster of half dark and the ruddy, oily shade cast from the torches. Glinting below each, the encasements of the sconces were bronze and smelted in the shape of a bullhead. His grainy silhouette played off the perforated whitewashed walls, unnerving in the silence. In a swallowing spiral all of the staircases spun off another concentrically. Beyond, at the top where the last dim remnant of torchlight faltered ahead, he stepped forth and out to enter the maze of the beast.
By James B. William R. Lawrence4 years ago in Fiction
The Tale of Alfons
It was Autumn in the Bryll forest--a most beautiful combination of time and place--which is why Alfons had chosen this particular time of year to make his way from Stadt'Val to Stadt'Har. The trees here were beyond lovely; Their silver trunks towered one hundred feet up, and, this being Autumn, their fallen leaves turned the ground at their feet into a sea of gold. As magical and full of life as this forest was, the only sign was the vague chirping of birds every so often--that is, apart from Alfons' own steps, squeaky rolling of cart wheels and the hoof clops of his...particularly large and furry traveling companion, Bartemus. He was a bull, and not just any. He was the largest anyone had ever seen! At least, the largest Alfons had ever seen. He didn't like to brag, you know.
By Alex Van Slyke4 years ago in Fiction
Prisoner of Crystal
Bull vs market , shorts, nude shorts, black pants, and custom made. It's okay if you are doing not know what these words mean. Hell I even have never done much within the previous few weeks. I'm not an economist or anything like that, I'm a welding. But I even have always been interested by all the crazy ways we'll make money or even the slightest odds. I knew that cash could bring out the worst in people but holy filth I didn't realize how bad money and pursuit could make people. which i do know of all the very dark things i'd rather not mention . But what i'm talking about is what's considered a "white collar crime (s)". another time we all know that they are all liars and deceivers, who trample on many toes and fingers to urge to where they're . i do know that, I’m not naïve. But within the top , it's just a matter of some time before subsequent big thing happens. Hewu.
By bhup raj. kandel4 years ago in Fiction
The Minotaur's Story
Bullshit. Bullcrap. Cock and bull story. Like a bull in a china shop. The Minotaur had heard all of the idioms, all of the stereotypes and prejudices associated with the bulls. He'd heard them on the wind, of conversations carried from far away. The phrases were chucked so casually into conversation that he wondered if anybody stopped to care about how the bulls might feel.
By Leigh Hooper4 years ago in Fiction
Valley of the Bull
As the sunlight crested over the valley’s edge, its warm rays and bright light fell upon a dark figure in the center of a large pasture. The figure stirred, first failing to turn away from the intruding sun and then lengthening in a deep stretch, welcoming the new day.
By Sean M Tirman4 years ago in Fiction
The Thunder Buffalo
The Thunder Buffalo There was a final rain, many years before this story begins, that almost everyone took for granted because they had no clue it would be the last. The people of Thunder Valley grew bitter at the parched ground, for they had not taken the time to cherish the smell, the colors, and the sensations of a pouring sky. Their children grew up thirsty for water, but their parent’s longing descriptions of the rainy seasons of the past were all there was to quench the gargle of dry stomachs and the crack of parched lips. The fertile soil once yielded ample crops and grazing for livestock, but the years passed, and lives of people and animals with it. Thunder Valley shifted in a single season from green plains to brown and barren terrain. The people of thunder valley were forced to steadily migrate, and the only one who remained was a cattle herder who lived near a well, not quite dried up but hardly full.
By Jarrad DeGruy4 years ago in Fiction
