Fantasy
Here there be Dragons
There weren't always dragons in the Valley. We, the Underlings, those children born after the "Fall of Man" knew of the tales of the time before the dragons but they were whispered, shared in secret, dare not spoken of in harsh or angry words.
By Jason Giecek4 years ago in Fiction
Who Am I?
My eyes flutter, slowly opening with a struggle. After a fight with my eyelids, I let my eyes take in my surroundings. I was in a rather peculiar setting, a bell-shaped room. The room was walled with windows of stained glass. As the light shone through coloured glass, the room was softly bathed in a wild spectrum of colour. Though the room was exquisitely grand, it lacked many furnishings or ostentatious decor and was almost empty except for a long table that was adorned by crystal vases filled with tall bouquets, tall clusters of blooming, vivid colours, made all the more dramatic by the rainbow rays cast through the windowed walls. The table was long enough to sit an entire family tree, yet the only setting put out was in front of me. As I sat at the head of the table, I found that, despite not knowing where I was or how I got here, I wasn’t afraid. Confused, sure, but I wasn’t scared and, instead, felt safe, unreachable and isolated. As my eyes ran over the room, I noticed a small shadow at the other end of the table that seemed untouched by the gentle light, or any light at all. It seemed like I was staring into a small void, a space in this romanticised reality to be filled. The distance between us seemed impossibly long, the table stretching further than I assumed the room reached. The darkness was writhing, slithering and wrapping around itself, its shape inconsistent and constantly changing. It did this for some time, seeming to become more tangible the more I looked at it. Again, I felt no fear, I felt only confusion and intrigue; but there was more than that. As I looked at the shifting darkness, I felt a wash of familiarity come over me and, as I felt that familiarity, the shape began changing. It seemed to shift itself into a final form that resembled a humanoid being; yet it still seemed to move, its limbs and torso stretching and shrinking. Male or female, tall or short, fat or thin, I couldn’t tell; or rather, the shadow couldn’t decide. I focused on the feeling of familiarity I felt, if I could find where that feeling came from, maybe then I would understand what it was doing. I tried to focus on the thing and see if it gave any clue to what I was looking at. As I stared intently at it, it did the same. Its ‘face’ was looking at me, studying me and as I was studying it.
By Dillon Johnstone4 years ago in Fiction
Running Stoutly Against Failure
He had been munching a huge loaf of bread and 'natin' when he concluded that morning's tedious exercise by gulping his cup of almost cold tea down in one clean swoop, He strode to his little room and donned his straightened school uniform. Now with his raffia bag slung on his shoulder and trailing over his back, he raced out of the pan-body house.
By Alex Trufia4 years ago in Fiction
Journey to Jahennah: Chapter Six
Lila was so distracted by the thought of Ziyadah knowing where her family was, she hardly noticed her surroundings. She only had time to register the beautiful reds and purples before she fell, very suddenly, onto the soft carpet of the basement.
By Courtney Harris4 years ago in Fiction
Death of the Fountain Giants
My fur bristles with remorse and excitement. These feelings are new to me, and I struggle to write down my thoughts. Forgive the haphazard nature of the script, I am not well practiced in the art. Among my people, I am learned, but that doesn’t mean much in the field of letters.
By Duncan Dempsey4 years ago in Fiction
Do Dragons dream of sheep at night?
There weren't always dragons in the valley. That's what Nan used to tell me when I was a child. She used to lull me off to sleep with great tales of derring-do. They were tales of knights errant, and the princesses they saved, and yes, of dragons. I must admit, there were nights when I couldn't sleep because of the visions that played in my head. I'd lay under my furs, peering out at the shadows leaping against the walls because Nan forgot to blow out the candle. I'd look out of the narrow casements, the shutters blown loose by incessant winds blowing up from the valley below, beating against the castle walls, knowing I could never slip out of bed to cross the room and blow the candle out, or shut the shutters. Of course, there's no such thing as dragons. Not in this day and Age.
By ben woestenburg4 years ago in Fiction
Outsider: Chapter 11
Jarl had barely spoken since Halvard had left, and it was starting to make Astrid nervous. While she normally appreciated any silence on the road, this silence made her feel on edge. She could almost hear the cogs turn in Jarl’s head as he mulled what had happened over and over again.
By Klaire de Lys4 years ago in Fiction
Rufus
Today. Somewhere in Appalachia. Memories of an Old Woman: "No matter what the other folks say, I want you to know that Rufus was never a bad boy. Never. In fact he was the kindest, most gentle soul I have ever known. And I have known many. You see, during the troubles, that thing wasn't really Rufus. Oh maybe at the end, the very end when he had come back. But he was back for just a second. Because when the Big Man scared the thing out of him, when he sent it back to the void where it came from. Well, Rufus came back to us to say goodbye, right before he died."
By Michael Mayr4 years ago in Fiction
