Fantasy
Big Foot and His Dad
This day keeps getting weirder and weirder. I have had enough. I am going home and I am going to stay on my couch with my lazy dogs who don’t even bother to bark at Big Foot. Seriously?! Other people complain about their dogs barking too much mine did not even bother to bark when Big Foot and his dad come into my house to take a shower and then kidnap me. Who knew Big Foot had a dad and that his dad STINKS!!
By Dee Mae Elva4 years ago in Fiction
LOST CITY
I just love the way my mama shared these stories with me and did not leave me to be conditioned to believe what the government wants the people to believe. I love it even more that I can share pieces of history with all y’all. I hope y’all do as I am and tell others the stories of forgotten history. Well, that is enough about how I feel, it is time to get on with the tales passed down to me of the Waymakers.
By Greylee Tynewise4 years ago in Fiction
The Journey to The Pond of Souls
“It was a different time. Back when all these fizzling gadgets didn’t exist. Back when there were none of the clanking bells of industry to drown the songs of the animas. Back when there was magic in the world. That didn’t mean the world was any better. In fact, it was much worse. Most spirits were malevolent, evil creatures. Most magic was used for greed and anger. But, in that chaos and hell, she was born from fire with a face chiseled of dark bronze and a spirit forged from determination, she was brought into this world to serve, but she was never meant to. Kiya, a beggar, was thirteen years old when she made the journey.
By Arjun Gupte4 years ago in Fiction
Music Box
Start writing... I wake up suddenly, unsure of what might have woke me. The glaring, red numbers on my alarm clock let me know that it's four in the morning. "Great," I sigh, "I'm up before the sun. Again." I throw the covers back, and move to get out of bed. Without turning any lights on, I make my way through my tiny, one bedroom apartment to the kitchen. I set about the business of making tea; it's just too early for coffee. . . or is it too late?
By Ashley Ryland4 years ago in Fiction
Eternity Flower, Seed Squared Root
Eternity Flower, Seed Squared Root Tuesday, July 27, 2021 4:42 PM It was an average day with no plan but plenty of potential for the wizard Mmace Heavyhammer. As usual the sun began to peak at the apex of perpendicular perspective. The breaking dawn, still lying in the future held even more magic potential. As it ever does. Twilight was so thoroughly vivifying and whether the light came from the east or the west, it's comfort was refreshing. Its familiar routine was one of his favorite parts of the daily cycle. Always enjoyable he thought to himself, the calm energy resonated within him.
By Mmace Heavyhammer4 years ago in Fiction
Sad Flora
Flora ran out of the house into the back yard and quickly headed to her favourite place, her tree house. Tears streaming down her face, she climbed the rungs nailed into the tree and crawled through the doorway and sat on a cushion. This day had not turned out the way she expected.
By Conny van Balen4 years ago in Fiction
Grendel Park
The streets were quiet tonight, the only sound, Sahara’s footsteps against the cracked pavement. It was not the peaceful stillness of a warm summer evening, nor the blanketed silence of a frosty winter day- but rather the ominous hush that only presents itself prior to a storm. Yet, a glance at the sky revealed no clouds and there was not so much as a breeze to carry the incoming scent of rain. And still, Sahara rubbed her arms as if to ward off the anticipated chill as she continued along the dimly lit side streets, careful to avoid pockets of complete darkness. You never knew what lie hidden in the shadows, the reek of sulfur and the coppery tang of blood more than enough to push people into the perceived safety of the light. Sahara did not consider herself an exception.
By Jasmyn Kline4 years ago in Fiction
Necklace of Memories (3)
The booth was situated on the town side of the river, and a hammered metal sign was nailed into the brickwork on the farside. It stated ‘Manned by Troll Bridge Guardian from dusk til dawn. By the order of Lord Lennox, 901 AD.’ Lord Lennox’s sigil of a blue dolphin was stamped at the bottom of the sign. Approaching the bridge was a coach pulled by bulls with three crew on the coach, two upfront, one at the back. A crest of two picks crossed over three rocks was painted on the carriage doors. Behind the coach were six men, obviously slaves, carrying a shroud clad figure on their shoulders. They shivered as they jogged through the light snow flurry. A raven screamed as it flew high above the coach and descended into the town, its silver band on its leg glinting in the half moonlight.
By Ian Hambly4 years ago in Fiction
