Fantasy

The Hopeless Owl
The sun rises over the forest village, and the enormous trees allow light rays to flow through their leaves, painting the forest floor in dappled shadows. Lilith, an eighteen-year-old with a gentle voice and light brown hair, grew up in a little forest town named Vihnlox with her father and other ordinary villagers until she met Deon, and everything changed ever since.
By Hasti Shams 4 years ago in Fiction
Seraphim
It had been months, at that point, of her never ending nightmares. The nights seemed darker than they were, even tucked into her blanket cocoon, as she had learned to dread the animosities of her dreams. They contained monsters, and spiders, the usual stuff that makes your heart palpitate and your mind precipitate. Fear-based experiences command a fight-or-flight overdrive, and in that dream world, she fought for her survival nightly. Oddly enough, through the endless quantity of these nightmares that pulled her back in on repeat, she somehow began to find solace in the surrealist worlds that she was entering. They became a test of her willpower, and her intelligence- how will she navigate the never ending torrent of sinister situations, the foreboding feelings? Because ultimately, that’s what these horrible moments were to her- feelings. It was the energy contained in the worlds that she was dropped into that spoke to her the most, over the literal monsters that may be contained there. There have been plenty of times where, instead of a straightforward bad situation, she instead found herself alone in an uncanny pocket of her mind. These dreams manifested mainly as haunted houses, filled with ghosts that she could feel, but that she could not see. Walking around the rooms of these mansions, with their pristine art deco design, she felt the ominous presences around every corner, watching her from across the room, sensing that she was not supposed to be there and quietly emanating a reminder of the power that they held over her existence. Curiosity is what led her here, and the pull she felt to explore these homes, hollowed out of their humanity, was more potent than the insidious energy that radiated from inside their shadows.
By Tara Sell4 years ago in Fiction
Another Monday
Another Monday A story of a family legacy and their special gifts Ah another Monday; class, work and home by six p.m., just in time for a quick yoga sesh and as we millennials would say,“self-love” – shower, wine, a good hair and face mask, accompanied by dinner with babes. But today felt different, I couldn’t shake this feeling that something was, as my grandmother would say, “amiss.”
By Bri4 years ago in Fiction
DUET
Death lurked tonight. The vampire huffed softly to herself, not quite a laugh. Rather lame poetry, if she did say so, and not all that profound, either. Of course death was lurking. Never a day that it wasn’t. That was the meaning of life.
By Aidan Barnes 4 years ago in Fiction
Return Of The Night Owl
“Return Of The Night Owl.” “Theres something so mystical about the Northern California redwoods,” Ashanti thought to her self as she drove her Suburu north, packed to the brim, ready for her next adventure.
By Kaiya4 years ago in Fiction
I AM OWL
As the light begins to fade, golden rays filter through the vines where heavy, dark grapes settle between leaves. Soon, the air will turn just as dark as the black gems. The landscape glimmers until nearly without warning, falls into the blinding night, where the day seekers drift through the faded light, cast by the moon, to their light boxes they call rooms. The old farmer wipes his brow of sweaty dew created from the day as the cat and dogs run along the path of purple haze to the light of a warm house welcoming them in. The night residents begin to yawn and move to the beginning of the cycle of the moon. As the farmer winks a good night and a tip of his hat to the oak tree where he can't see beyond the bark yet his inner eyes know this is where I reside. I bid him a good night as I stare down my beak nearly hidden in my cowl. This is the wisdom and knowledge of the owl, in which we know is the magic of sight.
By Jenna W.4 years ago in Fiction
The Legend of Efericus
The Legend of Efericus This tale is of a prophecy, one recovered during an archeological dig my parents worked on in the southern American jungle a few years ago. The many known legends of tribal civilizations occupying the jungles of the south have been found to be true...but there are many that remain only as stories told around a campfire.
By Aleks4 years ago in Fiction
Fantasy Matrix
This is the end of whom I no longer want to be, I thought to myself with all the conviction that I could muster. The addictions to the physical stimuli and residual negative mental loops had left their scars on my unhappily single and broke life and my body.
By Manette S 4 years ago in Fiction
Seeing
When she was younger, she saw the shop as a magical place. Not only because of the literal magical goods bought and sold there but because something new and exiting was always going on over the counter. Her memory swelled with countless days of lucent seasons spent ooowwing and aaahhing over the store's four shelves and the hours spent on her tippy toes peeking over the counter to marvel at the many intriguing adventurers from far and wide with their seemingly endless stories. The monster hunters' wild armor; the bounty hunters' deadly weapons; the prospectors' rare artifacts; being at the store meant being a part of the adventure. But over the years her eyes became tired of staying wide. The adventurers' stories began to mesh together with similarities as her sense of adventure waned. And despite still sitting under the glow of the floating spark beetle lanterns, the magic of her parents' shop slowly vanished. Now she sat under the shade of the storefront workshop, sweating in the humidity of the lucent heat despite being entirely idle, wondering what may have caused the store's light to dim in her imagery. The robbery and the break-in certainly shook things up. And the subsequent magical security orbs on the walls did change the feel of the cramped interior at first but their constant hum and occasional scans were just background noise now. The years of restocking the same 4 rickety shelves and listening to her parents bicker about what items should go behind the counter (the most dangerous or the most expensive items) numbed the wonder of the colorful potions and the variety of animal skins. Her family eventually decided to invest in a magic crested animal for surveillance and security purposes but Nuo the antlered owl was a better pet than security guard and was more often found visiting the nearby storefronts for free treats than at his post. The adventurers that used to make her day with uncommon wares and engaging conversation now regularly ruined her shift with their horrible attempts to swindle her and, on occasion, their equally detestable advances on her. The only other thing to change was eventually earning the trust of running the store alone during high sun. Maybe it wasn't the evolution of her perception of magical equipment or the more objective opinions she'd made about the nature of the adventuring profession, maybe it was the company of her family and a shared sense of adventure that was lost over the years. But being the eldest and bearing the most responsibility came with its perks. And with the money she's saved after all of these blisteringly monotonous afternoons, she could afford to dream of adventures of her own. And all of them took place away from this village.
By ikkarus the skrivener4 years ago in Fiction
Owl and The Bone Lady
Owl swooped down into the barn during the midnight hours of a cold autumn night. She let out a long hoot and when she looked back outside she could see the Bone Lady watching from a distant tree. The Bone Lady waved her white hand and Owl waved back with her wing. She and the Bone Lady had been friends for quite some time since the tragedy that befell Owl many years ago.
By Luis Perez4 years ago in Fiction
O
Like a bird on the wire, Like a drunk in a midnight choir, I have tried in my way to be free. --Leonard Cohen I. To wake in a grassy bed, doused in dew, and feel the whispering wind on her skin. To see the angelic wings of the barn owl that nested in the bell tower unfurl as the bird took flight. These were experiences The Oracle longed for. She had read about them in the books the sisters sometimes passed to her beneath the heavy door of her chamber. The sisters sometimes allowed her to walk in the convent’s stone-walled, candlelit corridors, but never the garden. Still, on breezy nights, she could smell its secrets. Sometimes, a sweet scent drifted to her. “Honeysuckle,” the ancient, wizened sister told her once, and in an uncharacteristic act of kindness, hobbled back the next day bearing flowering branches from a bush to prove her point.
By The Angel of the Puppies4 years ago in Fiction
The Old Barn Owl
There once lived a great king who ruled over a great kingdom, and this king had a daughter who was more beautiful than all the flowers in all the land. When it came time for her to be wed, the king asked a soothsayer who she should marry, for the one who married her would be the next king.
By Joseph Nixon4 years ago in Fiction