Fantasy

THE DRAGONS KEEPER
There weren’t always dragons in the Valley, that much was known. Of course, you wouldn’t have known that if you happened to venture over to the edge of the woods to look for yourself.
By K.H. Obergfoll4 years ago in Fiction
The Book of Denya Léna
There weren't always dragons in the Valley. Their rising came with the reading of the fourth chapter of the Book of Denya Léna, and by that time the people expected them. They had come to accept that all of the young witch's predictions came to pass soon after the words upon the page were consumed by human eyes, and they spent the few days leading up to the arrival of the dragons going about their business with hands cupped against brows, shading their eyes as they looked to the sky.
By Kate Sutherland4 years ago in Fiction
Treatment Protocols for Dragonpox Virus-Infected Persons
There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. Or rather, there wasn't always Dragonpox in The Valley. In fact, there wasn’t much of anything in this small valley in the American South. Located in rural Alabama, and comprising a total of less than 3000 acres, the valley—or The Valley, in CDC and governmental circles—was the best-kept secret in the fight against the next zoonotic pandemic disaster.
By Hillora Lang4 years ago in Fiction
The Tall Tale Of Arneas The Wizard
~ There weren’t always dragons in the valley. Once long ago in the medieval age of 1600 a.d. and through many doors, lived one survivor,a gifted young man named Arneas. Arneas wasn’t popular like today. He was a gifted young boy who often pondered, asked what gift was his? Growing up Arneas wasn’t like the other kids, he had other thoughts, replanned voyages knew not nothing but had a battleground heart. One day he would convince the world, convince his mother how he’d make it out alive. This was whether either of them made it out fdeas or alive. Arneas wasn’t like all the group of kids in his living space. When they were off thinking more highly of themselves he’d chose not to think nothing of it, because he knew pride came before a fall. In the picture up above reveals an ice castle with 13 doors.
By Rachael Frazier4 years ago in Fiction
The Blood of Dragons
THE BLOOD OF DRAGONS By Tyler Bragan “There weren’t always dragons in The Valley.” Malachi thought as he reached in his quiver and pulled out an arrow. He was careful to stay quiet. If he was caught, the Draguol would rip him to shreds. He spotted one ravaging an elk. He pulled back his bowstring and looked down the top of the arrow and fired. The arrow found its mark in its neck. He watched the creature let out a cry and slump to the ground, dead.
By Tyler Bragan4 years ago in Fiction
Nothing Is What It Seems To The Eye
Nothing IS What It Seems To The Eyes By Leonie. S Prologue Two Year before “There weren’t always dragons in the Valley.” Arthur whisper in his raspy voice sending shiver down my spine. “When the Dragons came, the Shadow followed… something covered the Valley in darkness, and you could feel it watching you.” His voice got deeper as his breathing slowed and he dimmed the light with a wave of his right hand. “It was always there waiting for you, waiting for you to wander just that little bit too far or even for you to look into the darkness for just that little bit too long.” The air sticks in my lung and I am too frightened to move or even try to breathe. “Stand still too long,” Arthur whispers,” and claws scrape along your arms, as an icy breath freezes your cheek and heart.” Everyone slowly moves away from Arthur not because this is a tale for children, oh, no, they moved away from fear, because before their eyes, Arthur’s skin was fading to pale grey and then something worse. “We called the Shadow; the Darking and it could always find you. We don’t how, maybe it was the scent of our blood, maybe it heard our hearts beating with fear… whatever it was, the Darkness feasted on it, gorged itself upon us until it was glutted, and we were almost no more.” Arthur’s voice is a ghostly wind in the darkness, his once bright yellow eyes are dead and Arthur himself, is no longer there … and it is now, at this moment I know the madness has taken him. His voice echoes in our minds, “All we know, is that the wind howls and growls like a fiend from Hell before teeth sink into our flesh.” Arthur throws up his arm and light green energy – Mana - swirls from his fingers, as every door and window opened with a BANG! People scream and their screams echo throughout the room. All I can do is stand petrified, my voice silent, my knees too weak to move.
By Leonie 4 years ago in Fiction
The Mists of Time
There weren’t always dragons in the valley. These words are spoken frequently among what few elders remain. Truly, only they can speak these words, and know them to be true. So, we should start there, where the elders say it began. All those years ago. As has been passed down.
By Katie 4 years ago in Fiction
The Fantasy Trip Of A Gladiator And Dragon
There weren’t always any dragons in the valley. That is what the public proclamation explained to a Gladiator who returned to the area after spending time in the desert followed by answering the knock after eyeing an opportunity to pick up a buck inside the falls that were chagrin.
By Marc OBrien4 years ago in Fiction
Quellia
There weren't always dragons in the Valley. one fateful day, our villagers were out in the fields harvesting some of the crops when a horde of Dragons came into the valley, Deciding to claim the valley as theirs.
By Kathryn Lyons4 years ago in Fiction
The Draconian Family
There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. I didn’t even believe in such things. However, Lucas Draconian turned up during my last year at the Valley high school and I had to fall head over heels for him, his eyes, his flawless skin and red hair. Since when was red hair attractive on a potential boyfriend? I honestly couldn’t say, but everything about Lucas was damn hot!
By Rosemary D Hunter4 years ago in Fiction
The Village of Cadaia
Prologue "There weren't always dragons in the Valley...", The old man whispered with a raspy voice as he began to recall a story as if it were a dream.
By Acey Angel 4 years ago in Fiction
Temple Wings
There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. I can remember running around with my friends day after day, fighting each other with sticks and rolling around in the dirt. Our mothers would scold us and make us wash up before dinner. We would do it, of course, but we wouldn’t be happy about it. Then one day, from the sun, they dripped with molten sun spots and burned everything in their path. Men in white armor lined with pieces of bright light came from the woods and grabbed everyone they could. The sun burned brighter and moved closer to watch. Those who resisted were slaughtered. My best friend was one of them, and I can still hear her scream. I can hear it now, it echoes through the depths of the mountains as I let out muddled sorrow. The last memory I have of her, on her knees, arms and throat slit as an offering before her body became agonizing fire and then ash. I watch her die all over again. Then my other friends, our other village families. All lined up in the center of the Valley’s main trail, they were cut and they were angry, and they screamed. Every single one. It blocked out the wind until they became it themselves. I screamed with them, but not at the sun, it was at the guard that held me. I squirmed and snapped my teeth, because next was my family. My father, a man hidden behind dirt and grime with the purest of smiles. My mother, a small woman with a heart bigger than her body. My brother, a couple months old but was already determined to gnaw through my finger. None of them were forced to the ground. The last thing I saw on their faces were looks of shock as tendrils of light slithered through the clouds and pulled them up into the sky until they were a memory. The guard tossed me to the ground and sneered down at me.
By Roger Bundridge4 years ago in Fiction