Fantasy
The Maiden & The Selkie King
The waves crashed lazily against the shoreline as Bridgett stared into the diamond water. Her bright hair whipped around like a blazing fire in the wind. The allure of the water and the impatience for her father’s return kept her sitting on the water’s edge for hours at a time. She counted the bobbing heads of dolphins and seals, noting the differences in their color and shapes. She thought about the stories her father told her about mermaids and sea monsters. Such grand adventures he had! She wanted to be a part of them and share in the adventures of such creatures. She’d often let her mind wander far off into the sea, where creatures would bring her in on dangerous adventures, or she would find her one true love. In her mind, she willed these stories to be true. She dreamed desperately of a time when she could join her father on sea voyages.
By Leah Suzanne Deweyabout a month ago in Fiction
Realm Jumper
The air was musky and hot in the depths of the wild jungle. I momentarily wondered how she could stand it out here. The soft gravel and dried leaves crunched in a poetic, steady sound: crunch, crunch, crunch. I took a deep breath and smelled the familiar smells of local flowers, warmth through the trees, and, as expected: the smells of a witch.
By Leah Suzanne Deweyabout a month ago in Fiction
Photo Jumper
Summer 1985. Walking the short path over the freeway. The sun is evoking sweat out of my pores. I can feel it soaking the creases of my rolled-up sleeves. There’s a new hole in my sneakers, which I’m almost grateful for. At least my left foot has space to breathe. This is still one of my favorite moments. I breathe in the sweltering summer air once more before pulling out of the photo.
By Leah Suzanne Deweyabout a month ago in Fiction
The Final Entry: Arthur St. Clair’s Sacrifice
Arthur St Clair had always believed in maps. As a former Fellow of the Royal Geographical Society and, secretly, a senior cartographer, he had spent his life charting the world’s anomalies, ensuring the line between fact and folklore remained taut and unbroken. But the map he stared at now was failing him. It was a fragment of parchment tucked into his pocket, showing a single, faint, circular clearing near Oxford labelled only: The Rabbit Hole.
By DARK TALE CO. about a month ago in Fiction
Ash
At first it was only a nuisance. A fine gray dust that gathered on windowsills, on the backs of chairs, in the creases of her thoughts. It followed her indoors, clung to her hair, rested on her tongue with the faint bitterness of something already finished.
By Aarsh Malikabout a month ago in Fiction
Auroras Beyond the Last Forest - Mysteries of the North Pole
The journey toward the North Pole did not begin with coordinates or maps, but with a forest older than memory itself. The Taiga Forest stretched endlessly beneath a sky that never fully darkened, its snow-laden trees standing like quiet witnesses to centuries of travelers who had come seeking answers rather than destinations. This was not a forest that resisted passage - it tested intention. Every step forward felt deliberate, as if the land itself required certainty before allowing anyone deeper. It was here that the travelers gathered - not heroes in the traditional sense, but beings shaped by curiosity, patience, and winter’s discipline. Among them walked humans wrapped in layered wool and belief, forest spirits whose footsteps left no imprint, and small luminous fair folk - fairies - whose wings refracted the pale light into soft prisms. Even the wind seemed aware of them, slowing its breath as they advanced northward.
By José Juan Gutierrez about a month ago in Fiction
