Fantasy

Dusk
Fiery, bright red hues of light encompass the entirety of the room. My dark, brown skin feels lit ablaze as I fall down to my knees. My fingers dig into the tops of my thighs and yet I feel nothing.
By Najuma Ali4 years ago in Fiction
When pigs fly
“Who do you think you are?” That was the question other pigs would ask Peggy. They did not approve of her slacking to fulfill normal pig duties. She kept thinking about something far out there, and they did not like it.
By Nica Breeze 4 years ago in Fiction
What the Barn Owls Saw
I’m Alva the Barn Owl that heard and saw everything. The sound of the motor, and the smell of exhaust, became an exhilarating, intoxicating coupling. I could taste the coming storm. I’ll try to remember the whole thing. The horses get the most credit from the little giant himself, Mr. Prince Rogers Nelson.
By Skyler Saunders4 years ago in Fiction
The Wizard's Apprentice
The Wizard’s Apprentice By Joshua Wheelon Arden woke up to the wretched scent of something burning out in the kitchen area. He sat up with a start and made a disgusted face as the horrible smell overpowered his nostrils almost costing him to puke. The aroma was almost like that of the spray the comes from a skunk’s glands. Then his eyes widened with delight for he knew why that wretched smell was in the hut. Today was the day.
By Joshua Wheelon4 years ago in Fiction
Rent-Seeking at Ragnarokk
Like so many people these days, the old man was sitting on a dirty blanket, a pile of junk (his wares) arrayed before him. Most likely, it was everything he owned.
By Theis Orion4 years ago in Fiction
The Gentleman at the Tilting Hat Bookstore
When Mavis found the Tilting Hat Bookstore, she had no idea what lay at the heart of it. She assumed, just as every other passer-by would, that it contained books. It was late in the afternoon, a cloudless sky let the sunshine down, but the shadow of the building covered the sidewalks and streets. Of all the stores she could have chosen to enter, this one stuck out.
By Nathaniel-Writes4 years ago in Fiction
Shadow
Once there was a man named Jack Shadow. His mind was almost always nearly blank. He didn’t know his address. He didn’t know his phone number. He couldn’t remember what he had for breakfast, nor could he tell you the name of his favorite song. But he had a big heart, and worked hard. His house was clean. His lawn was tidy. He dressed smartly.
By Casper Tales4 years ago in Fiction
Last in Line
There was a distant line of onlookers, huddling close with their hands tied behind their backs against the brick wall. They were not sorry for how heretical they may have felt, in how they opposed religiosity and the terrible tragedies that they've come to find revolting by association. Not a shred of regret came over their faces beneath the dark plank ceiling. They knew what had to be done. There was no going back now.
By Jesse Chen4 years ago in Fiction
Rescued
~~~ The slight shaking and whirring of the ceiling fan were the only sounds in the dark room. She stared straight above her, unable to see light of any sort. The barely-furnished bedroom felt like a prison, a torture chamber. She was chained to the bed, unable to move her own body.
By Shelby Larsen4 years ago in Fiction
The Desalinated Siren
A transparent, watery, naked woman no bigger than a finger emerges from the liquid trickling down over the top of the fountain. She dances over the stainless-steel top as if it’s a stage while singing the sweetest burbling song ever heard. David yaws back. At once, his hand releases the tap controlling the bubbler. He yanks the water bottle he was filling away from the spout. The flow is cut off, and she disappears with a splash. All the water running over the top of the metal fountain vanishes down the centre drain. Water droplets land on David’s white business shirt with Mercurial Insurance embroidered above the pocket.
By J.J. Dunmill4 years ago in Fiction
The Right Shade of Blue
“Legend has it,” she would begin in a whisper, “that the masters of old could bring paintings to life.” In the dim candlelight, Mother would set the inkstick dancing with a gentle twirl of her wrist, and the block would spin until dark pools formed in the inkstone well and held the moon outside our small room captive.
By Lilia4 years ago in Fiction
Resonance
Kat and Bob were looking over the transcript of a recent interview in which Kat had participated. She had initially refused her friend John, saying, “ I can never remember all the details of what I research."
By Katherine D. Graham4 years ago in Fiction