Fantasy
NES
(excerpt) The gold and silver amulet on the cover glistened as she picked the book up. It resembled the thing given her by Jimycahn somewhere in the recess of her memory. "This is always good to fall back on." The Never Ending Story was her favorite childhood story and that her father's. It had balanced the distance of sunset to midnight for many outside of her own family and it was never the same story twice. At every age and to every mind, it was a different tale. Mr. Koreander had warned her father of reading the story as a young boy just as she had been warned by her own grandfather, Bernie, and her father Bastian. There were always the warnings and there was always the best adventure tucked deep inside the book. "This is just what I need." She took it over to the opposite side of her bed, away from the door but just before the window to the side yard. She took the book of her youth and the treat from the secret place and lay down on the alpaca rug to read.
By CarmenJimersonCross4 years ago in Fiction
The Rebirth of Balance
*Part 1 of “The Chaotic Witch” series* The country was peaceful. Calm and serenity ruled here and it had been so for a hundred years. It is said that the land was protected from chaos by a spell, put in place by a powerful witch 500 years ago. Since then, no witch has been known. No scent of power, not a rustling of magic. The wise townspeople said that the protection spell was so powerful that it nullified any power that existed at the time, and blocked any power that could arise now.
By Cristina Velazquez4 years ago in Fiction
NES
INTRODUCTION In this episode of a favorite child story, the one that never ends, Our young adventurer travels through a land parallel to that which we have grown comfortable. She goes in search of a solution for her her own troubles and in the attempt at saving what can be saved from a future void of existence for the characters of a fantasy world.
By CarmenJimersonCross4 years ago in Fiction
NES
There was a storm brewing outside, a storm that drew Tyrean's attention away from the front of her classroom. It held her eyes fast to the darkness and swirling colors …green and orange …just beyond the glass. It was a dry storm, probably electrical. There was no rain. It was heading their way. They had already studied the effects of lightning on nature and human life. They had studied it in earth science. Studied it, but not lived it. A summer squall was not unusual in the region where she lived with her father. Anyone who knew the area …had lived there for any length of time, knew to look for and expect the annual storms. "Tyrean," the teacher called her name mid lecture and stormed over toward the girl near the window and leaned to look out. She was forced to call her name again to push the issue of importance of education over fantasy. "Tyrean!," the girl jerked in her seat, "Yes." The teacher stood and turned to face the blackboard then raised both hands to brush loose tendrils of hair from her face. As she wrapped several loose strands back onto the bun at the back of her head she chided the girl, " I see nothing worth studying out there, Tyrean. Your best focus is on me… is that clear?" Tyrean nodded, not bothering to bring attention to the discolored sky. "Keep your eyes focused towards me lady, I stand where your future goes!" Ms. Marion strode back to the head of the class to stand before the board, "Now, where were we?" Several hands shot into the airspace above the audience of twenty nine. As she picked up her black tipped pointer, Ms. Marion aimed and tipped it once, twice …three times as though she were casting a spell. "Ronnie, where were we?" A young man spoke up, "The sustenance of leaves!" She smiled, "Someone was actually in class. Can you be a little more specific?" The teen straightened himself in his seat and began, "The life we live as supported by leaf life …chlorophyll," he read from a tablet on his desk. Tyrean blushed lightly and raised her hand, "It was …I was distracted by the types of leaves …so many trees and plants outside; we should never have a problem with oxygen." The teacher corrected her, "No, there are many plants with green leaves in some places, but the entire earth is losing its chlorophyll level… the chlorophyll plants - green leaves generate carbon dioxide into oxygen. The plants just outside our window are very meager representation of the sustenance for our life - the regenerator of oxygen." As she turned toward the blackboard to write, Tyrean released a sigh of relief. The storm outside the window had distracted her beyond the original focus on windblown leaves at the window. Ms. Marion's voice began again, pulling the girl's attention outward once again. "The process of generating oxygen from carbon monoxide is natural in the life rhythm of a plant - green leafy plants," Ms. Marion's voice drained away to a more internal voice; a voice that sounded like that of the princess in the Ivory Tower. "But for the process of Time, Tyrean." The voice paused and Tyrean darted quick glances around the classroom at the other students and back toward the blackboard where the teacher was making white and yellow marks to demonstrate her point. When it continued Tyrean blushed. Fantasia had never ventured into her mind outside the privacy of home and a book, The Never Ending Story. It was becoming personal, "…But for the Process of Time, we are - as you have kept us, ALIVE - for the process of Time." The bell rang throwing students from their one hour root spaces around the classroom. The sound drowned Ms. Marion's voice to less than a murmur, a low murmur inaudible to teenagers eager to escape the clenches of science. By the last bell tone only a blur of sneakers and denim amid a wash of color could be identified in one massive rush through the classroom door. Tyrean glanced down at her watch to see that she would have only enough time to dash to her locker to toss in the morning's textbooks before starting through the hallway to her next class. There would be no time for thinking about what she wanted to carry. She would keep her journal and notebook for the next class. The flood of bodies in the hall caused her to struggle in rhythm with their flow in the direction of her locker, then up the flight of stairs toward class. English Literature was always easier for her; it did not require formulas or remembering extinct dates. The distraction caused by the storm outside now left her in a frame of mind that could benefit by her sitting in a class made for creative thinking. As she entered the first door on the second floor the woman standing at the front of the room nodded her head in a gesture of acknowledgment. "Good morning Ms. Brody,” Tyrean tossed a verbal greeting in her direction. A slight smile edged onto the teacher's face as Tyrean slid into the second row seat assigned to the girl on the first day of class. Seat order was the first thing established in her class, more for Ms. Brody's memory of names and faces than for anything else. The students changed so often it was impossible to recall each and every one by the face presented if they were not put in some perfect order. As the room filled, she began to etch on the board:
By CarmenJimersonCross4 years ago in Fiction
The Banishing
CHAPTER 2 There were none to greet Jon at the landing on the Isle. Walking the jetty to the path up the hill he felt both apprehension and an odd feeling of coming home. He stopped just short of the dirt path liking the feel of the wood and the slight movement the jetty carried from the sea. The feeling of being watched came as no surprise. It would have been stranger had he not been. The slight mental tingle of a tenuous ward and the attentions of a man on the hillside caused him to smile. He continued up the path.
By Bill Van Oosten4 years ago in Fiction
