Fantasy
The Blue Bottle
Frank stands alone wearing a cumbersome black overcoat, looking out from the clifftop toward the distant but gathering storm. Feverishly he digs inside the coat pocket for a cigarette, pulling out a half-crumpled pack of Marlboro Lights. Then, tapping the corner of the packet on one palm, he slips out a damaged smoke and shoots it to the side of his mouth, where it shakes between his lips while he flutters the lighter’s flame all around it. Frank inhales deeply, taking a moment to study the encroaching violence, its electricity sparking, splitting clouds.
By harry hogg4 years ago in Fiction
The Blue Bottle, Part Two
Lying restlessly awake, Rosie looks at the clock, 2:15 am. No matter how she tries to rest, her mind is reliving the events of last evening, the bizarre conversation with Frank. She lay on the bed, covers kicked off, going over every minute of their meeting, asking herself, had they ever met? What was familiar about him? She had felt comfortable talking to him, even felt a pull toward him, his craggy, handsome face, hair wild, and yet perfect. Yet, she had to admit that she felt stung by his smile, appearing brightly on one side of his mouth until it widened to his cheekbones, causing his eyes to crease and sparkle in their depths. He was a stranger, walking into an unfamiliar place, displaying an unusual air of confidence and likability. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, in control, and controlling in its tone. Nothing the stranger said made sense; it was all in the telling, entertaining, and genuine. Rosie felt he spoke like a man who had never told a lie in his life.
By harry hogg4 years ago in Fiction
Nahuatl's Story
Intro In the beginning there was nothing but plants on Earth, a beautiful world with no animal life to fill it with sound and splendor. The Feathered Gods decided to change that, and from the waters of chaos they made the first animals, things to find joy and happiness in this primordial world. Unfortunately, the Feathered Gods were not very good at the whole creating thing, and the first beings were not at all like them. They were scaly, completely lacking feathers like the makers, and needed the warmth of the sun to survive and thrive. These creatures found no joy in life, taking pleasure only in ferality, killing, and bloodshed. Soon Earth itself was full of these things, and the joy the gods had sought out could not be found. It was not in the nature of the Feathered Gods to kill, so they let these cold beings be and tried again.
By Zay Aeternum4 years ago in Fiction
The Blue Bottle, Part Five
Frank steps foot on the dusty red dirt, his boot leaving its imprint as he starts toward the old farmhouse. Rosie, following along behind, is suddenly aware that the clothes she’s wearing are those of the ’60s, not the clothes she left the house in. She wants to tell Frank but follows, hanging onto Frank’s jacket, her breasts heaving with anxiety as the sun, low in the sky, extinguishes its fiery body. Franks pauses and is still. Rosie wants to tell Frank about her clothes, Frank forefinger presses to his lips. A breeze becomes a gust, picking up the hem of her polka dot dress, revealing the tops of her nylons.
By harry hogg4 years ago in Fiction
In The Moment
“This is how I die.” I can’t escape the thought of my ultimate demise as I stumble through the unfamiliar woods around me. Trying to escape a dark monster that isn’t nameless nor faceless. The name that has haunted my dreams since I was a child. The name that I daren’t utter aloud...Ilerhi.
By Alice Wolfer4 years ago in Fiction
The Blue Bottle, Part Four
Rosie spent most of the afternoon in Dublin shopping with a couple of girlfriends, buying things she never imagined wearing. She’d been coerced by her girlfriends to get out of the dull outfits since her divorce. She tried not to think about the dream, being with Frank in Timbuktu. But ignoring the dream hadn’t worked as she was chastised at times for daydreaming. She’d been tempted, but saying it aloud sounds corny and unlikely, and she would suffer her friends’ humorous responses with a good deal of embarrassment.
By harry hogg4 years ago in Fiction
Hallows Eve Seance
"Stop it, you are making my tummy sore!" I yelled within my bursts of laughter. My friends and I hung around the bonfire behind the cemetary like we always do every Hallows Eve. We tell eachother spooky stories, play truth or dare and enjoy coke and rum we steal from our mothers' cupboards. Addison pointed at me, laughing at my stomach pain from laughing too hard at her utterly disgusting joke. "And to think, you could 'stomach' your alchohol!" She exclaimed, pulling her straight, blonde hair into a messy bun. I always admired her pale skin and blue eyes. She looked even more mesmerizing in the light from the flames. Each flicker of fire would reflect against her glowing skin and brightened her blue eyes. She smiled at me and we laughed some more, as I stopped my own trance.
By Destiny Pilon4 years ago in Fiction
The Blue Bottle: Part Three
Mark heard the soldiers yelling, screaming out, and then another smatter of fierce machine gunfire. He froze to the ground; please God, don’t let this be happening. The other soldiers lay at the roadside, not moving, so whatever motivated Mark to move from under the truck is something only God has any control over. He scrambles and crawls, taking cover in shell-shattered sand-built homes; their occupants were long gone. Mark hollers…
By harry hogg4 years ago in Fiction
Rampion
On a hill in the middle of a thick forest stood a tower. This tower was tall and straight, and though you could tell it had once been grand and well built, it was now beginning to crumble and sag. The bottom showed no door, but high in its walls were wide windows paned with beautiful coloured glass. One of these windows was now flung open by a thin white arm, allowing the gentle breezes of the spring morning to drift through.
By Kari McLeese4 years ago in Fiction
Lost City of Pela Part2
The day started off as it did the day before Derek Quinn was reflecting on the events that unfolded before him in the previous days and the emotional ping pong game was still playing in his head. There she was just out of his peripheral vision the fair maiden Addison Fox.
By Saige Adora 4 years ago in Fiction
