Fantasy
The Day The World Ended
As I struggled to clammer into the crawl space under the stairs, I couldn’t help but to smile to myself. Listening to my daughter, counting away down the hallway, I had all those childhood feelings we tend to forget about come rushing back. The fluttering excitement in my stomach, the thrill of if I was going to be found, everything just seemed so pure in the world again. I heard my oldest child trip over something and go crashing around the kitchen, followed by a soft and sweet “Ssshhhhhhh!!! You no want sissy find you!” from the youngest. Always his brothers shadow, I giggled to myself imagining the scene. “Ready or not! Here I come!!” my daughter shrieked gleefully, as her little feet shuffled towards her clumsy brothers sounds in the kitchen. Ah just as I suspected, my sons inherited clumsiness made the perfect distraction for dad to sneak towards the base! I slowly crept out of my hiding spot, cautiously checking for signs of “she-who-was-it”. I got about halfway out when I heard, “So, old man, thought ya could just get to base with no problemo aye?” whispered from above me. I looked up and saw the grinning face of my oldest! “But... you were just…” I whispered out-loud to myself, legitimately wondering how he had made it from the kitchen to the top of the stairs so quietly a ninja would be taken by surprise. With his smile widening, he held up the kitten’s collar letting it swing back and forth on his finger. “Oooohhhh you’re good,” I whispered approvingly. Now I realized what he was up to. He had told his little brother that Sergeant Stinky Butts McGruff (trust me I know) was playing too and that they should hide together. “C’mon, let’s go before…” I eased out alittle farther, “AH hah aaaahhh, daddio.” He interrupted. I looked up again, this time the little turd had one of those TNT party poppers in his hand. “You wouldn’t,” I said, narrowing my eyes at him. “Oh dad…. you gravely underestimate me.” He smiled so big he looked like that cat from Alice in wonderland. With a sharp pull, POP, followed by confetti. My daughter jumped and twisted around, “AHA!!!” she yelled as she came running back up the hallway. I scrambled to get upright. Gravity, apparently in cahoots with my traitorous son, had different plans. Straight back towards the floor I went, followed shortly by my daughter pouncing on my back. “GOTCHA!” she squealed in joy. “AAAHHHHHH NNNNOOOOOOO I was betrayed! Well, I know who not to trust with my car keys. I reached up and tickled my oldest sons’ belly in revenge. He laughed his surrender just as their mom rang the doorbell. We all frowned and started our wrapping up routine. I walked my kids to the door, as we opened it, my ex-wife immediately held up that trademark index finger to show she was on the phone. I hugged and kissed my kid’s goodbye and watched as they walked to their mom’s car. I hated this, one hour a week and every other weekend, that wasn’t enough. As they drove off, I slowly closed the door as if maybe they forgot something and were coming back. As the door clicked shut, I leaned my forehead against it. I was about to turn to go clean up, when I heard this earth-shattering sound that sounded like…. “OH GOD PLEASE NO!!!” I swung the door back open to see my wife’s car being pushed sideways by a truck trying its best to stop them both. I took off out the door, knees weak yet somehow still carrying me forward. By the time I reached the car, people had already crowded it to try and help whoever was in there. “MOVE PLEASE THOSE ARE MY KIDS I HAVE TO-“A older man met me before I got to the car, grabbing me and keeping me from moving any closer. “Son, look at me now! You don’t want to go up there…” He said with tears rolling down face, “Trust me, son, you don’t want to see inside that car….”. I fell into the man, not being able to stand on my own anymore. A biker stepped beside him and the two of them dragged me over to the side away from the scene. The biker, grabbing my hand and leaning his head down, began to pray. I didn’t know why there was nothing left to pray for. They were all gone….
By Lee Garber5 years ago in Fiction
Two Sisters and a Barn
Benedicta Hicchecok held the notice from the township concerning her barn and sighed. Yes, the barn looked run down, and, yes, it needed repair, but she was no contractor and rather liked her deadly barn. It dissuaded people from getting nosey about what she had going on in there.
By Kat Dehring5 years ago in Fiction
Yee Naaldlooshii
The warmth of the morning sun bathes Joseph’s complexion as he gazes vacantly through the bay window. Desolation overcomes him when his estranged grandparents took him in a week ago. He yearns for what was, but knows it’s impossible… Not without his mother.
By AM Ghandour 5 years ago in Fiction
Unokk Rice Stew and the Rite of Un-Khir
Despite the trials and tribulations one faces on a daily basis in the red sands of Zhagrizia, there are a few choice pleasures one can always depend upon to melt away the stresses of the locals’ nomadic lifestyle. I had the utmost pleasure of traveling with a caravan alongside my translator, Braddoch, a Zhagrizian native who moved to the Issidorn Empire when he was young. Amid the dozens of lessons in nomad culture he taught me daily, he always instilled in me the importance of desert cuisine. The nomads have a peculiar way of viewing the desert, not just as an arid wasteland of endless dunes and mirages like us Imperial folk. No, the Zhagrizians view the desert as the physical embodiment of their goddess, Zhagri, for whom the country was named. In local myths, she is always portrayed as harsh, but fair, granting her boons only to those who use their wisdom and intelligence to prove themselves worthy of them. And just like her, the desert itself rewards only the hardiest and smartest foragers and hunters. Even farms and produce can survive the sandstorms and the giant wildlife, if the farmers themselves are resourceful enough.
By Chris Heller5 years ago in Fiction
Watch Your Tongue
By the flickering of candle light, Elizabeth finds the recipe she needs. Her lover has grown suspicious; accusing truths, yes, but his fears are based upon lies. She has walked the earth longer, she is wiser, she is cautious. The men of this realm fear the power of a woman, and no matter how much she plays the part of complacency, she cannot hide the fire that burns through her soul. These men, they see her blackened lips and midnight hair and are driven crazy with desires that terrify them. And so she must be a witch, a devil in disguise, using her evil ways to seduce their hearts as she forces them to betray their wives, their morals. 'Destroy the seductress before it's too late!' she'd hear them cry, but she could only scoff at their ignorance. She'd never waste good magic on the affections of a boy, what a pathetic cause that would be.
By Jade Hadfield5 years ago in Fiction
Chaos and The Old Barn
Chaos and The Old Barn by James Palfi The multiverse is more than one universe. There was a theory our universe was created via the big bang via more than one multiverse overlapping. However, with nature it is more likely for something to happen if there is less energy required. These multiverses are not infinite. There was the first cause nothing that gave rise to the first multiverse that blossomed like a boiling pot of water. The first bubble and then all the other bubbles is a simple analogy that shows these other universes being created and being destroyed, this is a story about the first cause, Chaos.
By James Palfi5 years ago in Fiction
Waypoint
My boots crunched loudly as I made my way across the sun dried grass, hearing the cicadas scream out their war cries into the fading light of twilight, heading toward the old barn. The once red paint faded and chipped away to a sun bleached pink in some spots, while most of the walls were nothing more then weather worn planks. I never thought I'd be back here, never thought I'd even be contemplating stepping foot inside that rickety barn ever again. On the outside it looked like one stiff breeze might blow the whole thing down, but I knew the truth of what lay behind those tightly closed doors.
By S. R. Jenkins 5 years ago in Fiction
Survivor
Her hands trembled. Exhaustion racked her body. Dusty air choked her lungs as cobwebs clung to her hair and face. The skin on her hands was cracked and bleeding, her muscles groaning in protest of every movement. Her clothes were torn and the pack she wore held on by the merest threads. Her rifle lay at her feet, its stock cracked, its ammunition spent. She sat against the rotting beams of the hayloft she cowered in, sucking in air, trying to stifle every cough and groan. Her body begged her to rest, to cease its struggle, to simply drift off into unconsciousness. But she could not, for it was still out there, and she knew it would come for her soon.
By Chris Restoule5 years ago in Fiction
Oculus
Frannie absently scratched at her neck disturbing the sweaty curls that stuck to it. The trail she walked was old but following the faint path allowed her the opportunity to think. The last week had been miserable, she was hot and hungry and filthy, but she was safe. Her days were filled with relentless walking and parched landscape, the nights were uncomfortable out in the open and the quality of sound in the darkness was fearful without the barrier that even a thin blanket would provide. She had hoped that at some point she might find some linens hanging on a line snapping cheerfully in a soft breeze, but the intense humidity kept the clothes lines empty. This disappointment had Frannie wrinkling her brow and deciding her number one priority was to find a place to shelter.
By Sarah Snider5 years ago in Fiction
