Fantasy
Wind Witch
By: Sheila Chingwa The Captive The air bit a Sarah’s nose. Already, the fall weather was in the morning air. Rising early was expected for all of those at the boarding school but the morning bell had yet rung and Sarah was thankful for a moment to herself. She rose up on to her elbow and focused her eyes on the other children laying asleep in their beds. Blankets, nothing more than rags of fabric was gathered in their arms and wrapped tightly around their little bodies as they slept. With a shiver, she flung her feet over the side of the bed and slipped on her shoes and fastened the laces. With a tug, she pulled her blanket over her shoulders and sighed as the warmth sunk in and chased the chill away.
By Sheila L. Chingwa4 years ago in Fiction
Villain?
The patter of rain drips around him as he crouches, hidden in a dark corner in a dark alley. He hears the splash of footsteps drawing near and stiffens, wondering if this is the one he’s been waiting for. An unmistakable cough echoes through the alley, and the man in shadow stands up. He glides silently after his nemesis as the other jogs heavily along the empty road, before slowing to a stop. He waited as the man from the shadows comes to a silent halt behind him before turning.
By Emma-lee Howarth4 years ago in Fiction
The Soldier
The war had been raging for centuries. 900 years of bloodshed and carnage. Around him, allies and foes fell, their screams falling on deaf ears, the ringing of metal on metal long ago ignored. He fought as hard as his comrades, slicing through his enemies with as much strength as one could muster from fighting for nine centuries straight. The Immortal glanced around quickly, scanning the battlefield and gave a silent thanks that the form of warfare had not updated since the Dark Ages, and swords and arrows still flew. Within the second of his misplaced attention, the young-looking man was cut through the shoulder by a raging enemy with a long sword, held in the two hands of a large brute who looked as tired and defeated as the immortal. Before he fell, the man pierced his foe’s armour in the stomach with his own battle sword, before allowing himself to fall from the world in the sky like a fallen angel.
By Emma-lee Howarth4 years ago in Fiction
Opening Moves
OBSOLETE Marcus sat atop his horse and surveyed the battlefield. He could see the Ogodai making preparations for their first assault on the positions the legions had set up around the small town of Altai. The Ogodai host was an imposing sight. Thousands of grey-skinned warriors clad in furs, mail or armor, depending on their status, began gathering beneath their clan banners. They clearly had Marcus outnumbered, their camp stretching from the cleared ground around the town, back into the forest that surround both armies. The terrain of the battlefield was an open area cut diagonally by a river that flowed through the town of Altai. The surrounding forests indicated to Marcus that this place had not always been open, but in fact had been cleared by the residence who, presumably, had used the wood to build their homes and sell to their neighbor's. Now the whole town was a bastion to be held against the oncoming tide of vengeful Ogodai warriors.
By Tomos Jackson4 years ago in Fiction
Under the Pear Tree
I wake up from what seems to be a deep sleep, I am lying flat on my back vertically; I can feel the grass. I stare out into the sunlight, that is shining through leaves from a tree; a pear tree. I sit up and look around, I am in the middle of an open field. I then realize I do not know where I am, nor do I remember anything, I don't even remember who I am. I notice a white watch on my right wrist. The wind starts to blow and I notice my hair; It is a pretty auburn color and just above my waist. Suddenly, I hear a groan behind me; I quickly turn to see who it is. It is a guy, also lying vertically on his back in the opposite direction of me on the other side of the tree.
By Joy Carroll 4 years ago in Fiction
The First Pear
Another mundane day at the office starts. The office fluorescent lights and desktop computers humming with exertion. I should be focusing on the report that is due in two days time but its not happening today. I find myself staring at the water cooler with bits of excitement when one of my co workers would fill their cups. The bubbles were magical and reminded me of a beautiful fish tank. I sigh deeply and turn back to my desk that has a beautiful mural of a fall landscape with an old dilapidated barn house in the background. I begin dreaming of sitting in the middle of this beautiful sight with an all white Adirondack chair. I can smell the fall breeze wet with fall leaves and the promise of snow. I can’t wait to pull out my hoodie and over sized mug, warm some locally produced apple cider, and just enjoy until this scene switches to snow.
By Christina Holmes4 years ago in Fiction
The Pear Tree
I sat on the fence separating the cows from Henry the bull. Henry had finally come to tolerate me after many months. It was a quiet, early spring evening. The past few months seem unreal. My partner, John, passed away after falling through the frozen lake over the winter. It was just a couple of weeks ago that the lake finally melted and we could recover his body and bury him at the old barn. I had moved in with Joanne after John perished. The move really disturbed Henry at the beginning. Joanne and I were living as a couple, married by Pete and witnessed by Alice. After John’s death, I inherited the entirety of the gold we found. I was technically one of the richest people on earth but couldn’t spend much of it or we’d attract marauders and thieves. Joanne and I did move a sizable amount to our island from the old barn. Alice, Pete, myself and Joanne wouldn’t have to worry about supplies. Our baby, Joanne is expecting in May, would never have to live the life I did. He…or she, scary thought. What if it is a daughter? How would I even handle that? I can’t do this! I can’t do it….what am I talking about? I have to do it. Joanne is going to need me to help her and our child. What was I thinking about? Oh yeah, our child would never have to live like we lived and would be secure from those that would attempt to enslave or participate in involuntary inscription by the survivalists and warlords. I had made some purchases with the gold to help protect our little community. An army of automated security robots protected us now. I still had my mech suit if I was needed in a fight but those robots would give us a fighting chance and early warning. Ok, I need to stop thinking about this. I’m getting too much in my head. Henry is helping. For some reason he is banging on the fence again. “What’s your problem big guy? You worried about Joanne? Don’t worry too much. Just realize that there is going to be another human in your area and your mistress is going to be spending a lot of time with them. We’re going to need you to help protect all of us and I guarantee we’ll let you have fun with a cow or two. Do you like that?” I’m talking to a bull like he’s a human. I am losing it. As a cow walked by, Henry started pawing the ground and snorting. “Ah, you want to play with her do you? Well, I’ll ask Joanne and maybe tomorrow you can play.” The sun was going down over the mountains giving the entire valley a golden glow. The pear tree we planted was flowering and was especially beautiful as the golden rays lit up each petal. They say pear trees are good omens. If it is true, this tree is being spectacular.
By Chris Purdom4 years ago in Fiction
The Tree
At eleven years old, I would say that the imagination is most vivid…..I imagined I was a full-grown woman, a virgin. What if, by the transgression of one person, all death came to reign through that one, how much more will those who receive the abundance of grace and of the gift of justification come to reign in life through the one person Jesus Christ?
By Violet Hamilton4 years ago in Fiction
Bon Appetit
I never would have thought house hunting could become frustrating. This is the moment I have always dreamed of since I was a little girl. I did not fantasize of a big wedding or marriage, my dreams were filled with big, spacious homes, yards, pools, closets, and pets. My name is Magenta, I am a Manhattan native and that is all I need to say for you to understand my perception of living spaces and why my dreams consisted of homes and not boys. Boys were everywhere and accessible, affordable, spacious homes in NYC were not. It was just me and my mother growing up in a one bedroom, one closet apartment in the Lower East Side. We shared the bedroom together up until she passed when I was 19 years old and by this time I was already in college completing my biology degree. Losing my mother has been one of the toughest times in my life so it was only natural that it took a while before I could give up the apartment we had shared my entire life.
By Christina DeFeo4 years ago in Fiction
