Fantasy
Burdens of the Dead
A whisper broke the silence. Shane sighed. His heart dropped, and dread flooded him. This is how it always starts. A whisper. They knew what he was, and that he could hear them. Once communication was established, they could push through. A whisper became a stage whisper, became a small voice, until it was like they were standing right next to him. Which, of course, they were.
By Christopher Kelly4 years ago in Fiction
Adelaide's Gold
Adelaide ran through her backyard, laughing in half panic and half excitement at avoiding her mother’s call from inside their home. The clouds hadn’t fully cleared from the earlier rain, but the sunlight that peeked through turned the five year old’s hair a flaming red as she sprinted towards the trees clustered at the back of the property. Her white dress – the one her mother specifically asked her not to wear that morning because of the mud that would inevitably stain it – billowed behind her as her feet grew slick and mud stuck between her toes.
By Rebecca Evans4 years ago in Fiction
The Dead Woman
At first he thought she was an ordinary woman. Well, an ordinary dead woman anyways. Jack had been slowly making his way toward the beach at the end of his street, attempting to compile a record of the damage the ice storm had wrought. It was sunny out but cold, far too cold to write, so he was speaking into his digital recorder as he walked. The damage was stunning — overnight Raven’s Cove had been encased in an inch-thick coating of ice.
By Lori Lamothe4 years ago in Fiction
Selfless Sir Samuel and the Spirit's Secret
Multicolored leaves crunched beneath Sir Samuel’s shoes as he walked along the edge of the southern forest. He held his brand new sword in his hand (it was merely a stick he’d picked up from the ground) and gave it a few playful swings as he strolled. The sun dipped low on the horizon behind him, casting his shadow a good distance ahead.
By Joshua R. Leuthold4 years ago in Fiction
The Wanderer Returns
They had many names for him. Heathen. Trickster. Even witch. Woodwal didn't mind though. He even leaned into it a little, wearing a long black cloak and hood, and encouraging any of the stories he heard that entertained him. Some he started himself.
By David McClenaghan4 years ago in Fiction
Sleep
Princess Briar Rose smiles menacingly at me. She leans against the sitting room window. I can just make out the distant glow of Little John's burning orchard in the night sky behind her. The view out the window becomes increasingly obscured by the enchanted thorny hedge growing outside.
By Deanna Cassidy4 years ago in Fiction
The Devil's table
The Devil sat at one end of the table. His son, Lucan, squirmed uncomfortably in the chair opposite him, and Sophia found herself in the middle glancing from one to the other. The situation cemented her belief that a bullet had in fact lodged itself into her brain matter, and all of this was just a coma-induced hallucination, experienced from the lonely confines of a hospital bed. It also told her she was more messed up than she thought if this is where her mind chose to take her! But, she went along with it. After all, Dinner with the Devil, what could possibly go wrong?
By sylvana lee-jones4 years ago in Fiction
The Trivial Story
Its been a few days, now it's the day of my wedding but I couldn't help but think what Eric was doing and what he wanted. As my maids were getting me dress is my wedding dress, I had this look of concern. My heart couldn't stop from what felt like it was going to come out of my chest. Everyone was loving the view of me in my wedding dress but I couldn't help that my mind was somewhere else.
By Manda Marie4 years ago in Fiction
Atheria
I’ve always been that weird kid at school, always obsessed with fantasy stories and mystical worlds. Time after time, I’d let my mind drift and daydream about a better world, where I wouldn’t have such low self-esteem and be such an introvert. Since being a 14-year-old girl who still loves fantasy stories doesn’t exactly make you top of the popular list, I often get bullied and teased for it. Which over a long period of time has made it harder to open up to people. But I try not to let it get to me. Since I have something more important to focus on like my father’s birthday. He was a pilot for Dawn Wing which meant he often took the early shifts and I was often left alone in the mornings. This was good since it meant that I had more time on my hands to buy a father a present without him realising I was gone.
By Grace Gaebel4 years ago in Fiction
