Fantasy
To Seek a Vampirate
It was the year 2127 and the locket was still all he had left of her. For years, Ezra Smith had opened the heart-shaped locket and stared at the picture of the two children it depicted, himself and his sister, Genevieve, “Jenny” to Ezra. Jenny would be about eighteen now, three years older than Ezra.
By Foster Joseph Sayers III5 years ago in Fiction
Planet Psi
Satori’s long claw shaped nails rapped anxiously on the car door as they pulled up to Vitus's Mansion. Her husband Aldrich got out, opening the door for her. The estate’s lead butler greeted them. “My Lord and Lady, please follow me with an urgency. Our King Etticus is in the study with Vitus now.”
By Renate Donaldson5 years ago in Fiction
Wasteland Locket
“Uggggh” I moaned loudly. Waking from my sleep. It had been a long night, the sun was beating down horrendous, I was thirsty, tired and ready to keep moving, I’d been in this town for too long and needed to keep moving, this desert town just wasn’t for me.
By John Dowdy5 years ago in Fiction
The Dome
July 3, 2140, 12:30 PM Today was weird. Earlier today, I found a small gold heart-shaped locket dangling half haphazardly between a sewage drain. Finding something like that was not a typical find for someone like me. I am, after all, a Lower District slug.
By Malaya Purvam5 years ago in Fiction
Vents
Viktor’s eyes bore naked into the blackness of his studio apartment, pierced by a sliver of light through the curtains. It was 3:12 AM and his restoration lozenges had worn off nearly two hours earlier than prescribed. His dose was already higher than normal and he had just traded his last doctor’s tickets three days ago for a four month supply of B-12 syringes. Overheating, he pried away his ear muffs to hear the distant low rumble of the state-sanctioned Kineticas. The monotonous throb echoed oscillated synths and a four-beat exasperation. Sounds engineered to satiate higher stress levels of the civilians who can’t afford restoration lozenges. They used to be called Discotekas before the incursion. The early morning time allotment was nearly over and the next one would begin at 7AM. Most of the civilians were prescribed ear muffs to accommodate for the incessant thumping across the Sector
By Brandon Gorrie5 years ago in Fiction
The City Warped by Tungsten Smoke
The city outside was covered in a thick coating of tungsten ash. From the moment Edelweiss was born, she could remember the burning sensation in her lungs as she breathed. Even a minute in the thick smog caused her to cough uncontrollably. Everyone did, but tungsten was a critical component of Spellcaster's Dust. So, mines dug further as the air turned greyer. She hustled through the meandering alleyways, deftly avoiding the black pits of stagnant water. "Let's see, last week, Lowlands Pier was north of Dyer Marsh, but I'd better check again." She shuffled past a pile of soiled handkerchiefs and across the uneven cobblestones to a tall rusted soot filter. A yellowing map lay plastered on its side. "Updated two days ago, perfect." It was only common sense to make sure the city hadn't moved. A phenomenon that regularly occurred due to the magical corruption of a spell reaching its half-life. Sure enough, the pier was now to the west of Dyer Marsh instead of north. She took off running.
By Mukena Addict5 years ago in Fiction
Awaken
I opened my eyes, unaware of where I was, unaware of the time. I looked around me desperately trying to find even the most minute clue to provide me with an answer. I turned left, right, and behind me, but nothing made sense. I stood up and when I looked up to the sky, my eyes met a beautiful wine-red color that I have never seen before. I stood with awe in silence, contemplating the color of the sky in an attempt to calm my anxiety of the unknown. I took a deep breath, lowered my shoulders, lifted my chest, raised my right leg and took my first step towards the unknown.
By Alfredo Zanchez5 years ago in Fiction
The Heart Can't Deny the Truth
It’s times like these, I hate having such long-drawn-out missions, Violet thinks. Walking through a marsh, the humidity making her sweat, hair sticking to her face uncomfortably. Swatting mosquitoes every ten minutes and keeping her guard up, never knowing if potential enemies are nearby. Violet trudges through the marsh until she reaches a clearing where a man and two guards stand with valuables and treasure. The man is in good condition wearing golden robes that are clean and not a speck of dirt on them, somewhat smug and a twinkle in his eye. While the guards are wearing dark flexible robes that don’t have any dirt on them. Their expressions neutral and no emotions showing on their face.
By Abbye Willis5 years ago in Fiction
The Healer's Quest
The sun was the color of an opal, hanging high in the inferno red sky. She climbed up another dune of polluted black sands. The sand intermingled with the bone ash of millions of dead. Tiny shards of glass formed in the sands because of the extreme temperature.Struggled up and down dune after dune as the tiny shards made hundreds of micro holes in the fabric of her clothing and hundreds of tiny cuts to her flesh.
By Jason Drake5 years ago in Fiction
Dreams from the Witching Hours
Samantha woke with a start, as if struck by lightning. She screamed out and began to sob, bottomless, soul-emptying sobs. Lili ran to her sister and attempted to reach her arms around her. Samantha threw her off. Lili had the best intentions, of course, but there was nothing she could do to console her sister now. Lili stood back and watched as Samantha began to tear at her hair. Jason’s eyes shone from across the room. They couldn’t help either. No one could. Rue was dead and Samantha couldn’t begin to explain her agony. Lili stretched out her hand over her grief-stricken sister and began to murmur. Samantha collapsed upon her cot, apparently fast asleep as quickly as she’d awoken. This was their routine. Every night, Samantha woke, howling for her lover, and Lili put her sister back to sleep. Samantha’s dreams were once beautiful gifts. She wove tapestries to reflect the prophecies that blessed her sleeping mind. Samantha had danced, sung, and braided Lili’s dark, always tangled hair. Now, she was a ghost, haunted by recurring nightmares, promising that her other half, Rue, was soon to meet her end.
By Laurena Fauie5 years ago in Fiction
The Last Herald
Concrete walls slick with the dark stench of mold encase the small prison where I wait. Always waiting, I am. Be it for a new era, the forgotten promise, or for my own death, it is the waiting that defines my destiny. I am sure my enemies would call my execution the apex of my short existence, but it is not. For the harbinger of eternal rest must come for all heralds eventually and most certainly shall claim me too beyond this hole. No...my fate has been and always will be to hope.
By Rachel Merritt5 years ago in Fiction
