Fantasy
Green Night
Green Night by David A. Riley Everything seems normal as I look over at my peacefully sleeping wife, but should you drift into a dream that takes place in the room you presently occupy, it might be difficult to be sure if you’ve fallen asleep or not. Across the room, the fan hums, sending a light breeze that ripples the sheet covering Sandra’s body, but it’s having little impact on the summer heat. She lets out a sleeping sigh as she turns to keep the wind off her face. If I didn’t know that the slightest caress would wake her, I’d run a hand along her exposed thigh.
By David Riley 4 years ago in Fiction
Cinder
I wear a brown hood these days, but people still call me Red. The cookies in my basket look like regular sweets, but members of the Enchantment Liberation Front know how to read their codes. Today’s batch of peanut butter chocolate chip mean we are meeting at eight in the evening.
By Deanna Cassidy4 years ago in Fiction
The Diary of the Last Teenage Girl on Earth:. Top Story - August 2021.
Thursday, October 27, 2022 I am writing in a diary on paper, with a pen – how primitive - something I wouldn’t have thought I would ever do, with my Mac Note Book. But, it is all I have now, and I have to organize my thoughts, and writing always helped me think clearer, as if that it possible now in this crazy world.
By Brittany Smith4 years ago in Fiction
Firefly parade
The lights have been turned out, the ceiling fan whirred above her bed, wafting the cool breeze down feeling the hairs on her face sway ever so slightly. The window was cracked and she could hear the crickets and frogs singing, she often fell to sleep thinking about what kind of party would these creatures in the garden have. It had been a while since her mother tucked her in, even in her 5-year-old mind she knew she should be asleep by now. She laid there, content and also waiting, she actually had no idea what she was waiting for but she could feel something happening.
By Claire Hunter4 years ago in Fiction
The Tree
Plop...plop The sound of drops hitting the water wakes me up. My head is laying on its side, the awkward position makes my neck ache. It smells like rain and dirt, brings back memories of playing in the rain with my brothers and sisters. A knot forms in my throat when I think of them, but I don’t know why. As I open my eyes I see roots of a grandiose tree covering the ground almost completely, the small spaces of ground left filled with water. I can still hear the sound of drops near me. I look up, investigating where the drops might come from but they don't seem to originate from the sky or the tree. Then I feel warmth trickling from my forehead to my mouth. It tastes like iron.
By Blanca Nino4 years ago in Fiction
Into the Abyss.
I cannot believe my ears. “That was definitely not, universal! They just said, my name!” Immediately, any doubts in which I possess about his connection to be able to infiltrate himself into my life in this way, fall away. He is, watching me! I am instantly turned on. I excitedly forage that of my surroundings in search of to where he could possibly be inhabited, so to be able to observe me in this way. However, there is no sign of him anywhere. "How can he see me?" I wonder with reverence. "Ahhh." Alas, I do not even care! If he can see me then this must mean that he is close. Maybe he is a little scared? This situation is out of this world to say the very least. I presume that he would not be here initiating this, if he was not ready to talk to me, though? And so, I jump back into that of my vehicle and choose to continue to wait for him to approach me. Maybe he just needs a little bit of time and space to prepare himself to converse with me about all that which has unfolded? I can only imagine the affect that which our circumstance is having on him and my heart sequentially, extends to that of his.
By Lauren Davey4 years ago in Fiction
The Magic Pear
“Oh Apple”, said the Pear, ‘”you gnarly old git, stop lording it over all the rest of us. You are not the only one with stories! For while humans think of you as messing things up with Adam & Eve and poisoning Sleeping Beauty, I in fact am the magical one. Let me tell you my stories of the past and of a time yet to come.”
By Soleira Green4 years ago in Fiction
By the Decay of the Pear Tree.
Our pear tree was rotting. It was subtle, at first. No one noticed when one of the pears began to brown, when the grass beneath it began to die. It was subtle enough that when we pulled the pears from their branches and bit down, none of us noticed that they already tasted too ripe. The pears sustained us when we played out in the fields, when the warmth of the sun tired us out and we took shelter beneath the tree.
By Jordan Dugdale4 years ago in Fiction
