Fantasy
The New Gods of Anneas
There weren't always dragons in the Valley. The air had always been too heavy with the magic of The Maw, too complex for their simple lungs. However, in the past decade, this changed. The dragons changed. They were no longer mere animals; they were gods.
By Gabriela V. Rivera4 years ago in Fiction
The Scales of Splendor
There weren't always dragons in the Valley. They had arrived like meteorites; they plummeted from space in pods in the Chinese Year of the Dragon, 2024. Their place to live on the earth was actually part of the Delaware Valley in Wilmington, Delaware, United States of America. As they awoke across the land, they remained untamed and wild.
By Skyler Saunders4 years ago in Fiction
The Little Monster
The young boy was a monster of a child. I don’t mean he was your average, run-of-the-mill kind of monster child, taking pleasure in tormenting his big sister or setting neighborhood cats on fire. He was an honest-to-goodness kind of monster; certified, and independently verified through the strictest of scientific methods.
By Robert Bear4 years ago in Fiction
The Four Horses
When He broke the second seal, I heard the second living creature saying, "Come." And another, a red horse, went out; and to him who sat on it, it was granted to take peace from Earth, and that men would slay one another; and a great sword was given to him.
By Robert Bear4 years ago in Fiction
Revenant
Chapter 1 “Only the dead have seen the end of war.” - Plato * * * There weren't always dragons in the valley. In fact, there was a time in which there were no dragons at all. There were no dragons. There were no daemons. There were no undead monstrosities seeking nothing less than the complete eradication of all living things.
By Robert Bear4 years ago in Fiction
A Tale for Tarragon
“There weren’t always dragons in the valley…”, my mother would say just before she recounted the tale of our former home in the Ashlynn hills of Tarragon. I was just a small child in those days when she and my father tried to flee the fire that came from the mountains in the West. My father managed to save my mom and I from the flames, but a wooden beam from the roof ended up falling on top of him as he reentered our house to save whatever he could of our remaining possessions. The blaze grew so wildly and quickly that we didn’t have time to recover him before the flames engulfed his already lifeless body. Something terrible had been burned and branded into my mother’s mind in that second and it haunted her memories from that moment on forward. Whenever she’d tell the story of that dreadful day, her face would always portray a deep longing to forget what had happened, but she couldn’t stop thinking about my father and all that we had lost. The only way we’d really communicate was through her stories, she lived through her stories as they seemed to be the only thing that brought her true solace. Her reality had become too much for her to handle it seemed and she eventually succumbed to the burden of its weight.
By Amore Massages 4 years ago in Fiction
