Fantasy
Voice Within The Silence
As I ran through the forest, the wet leaves slapped my face and body as the rain aggressively stabbed my skin. It felt like my ancestors were using the elements of the earth to express how disappointed and angry they were with me, I didn't blame them I felt like a fool myself. The skeletons had finally escaped from the closet, but they weren't mine, they were Ngozi's skeletons disguised as mine.
By Ropafadzo Thokozani Zinyuke (Fadzo) 5 years ago in Fiction
From the Ashes
Dark, black clouds swirled in the sky in a rather sinister manner, and the wind howled, crying out shrilly. A rather fitting day for the events taking place on Earth at this time: At this moment in time, a man is travelling up a jagged body of rocks, placed strategically by nature. Steam rises up, from the hot springs, and wets the leg of this man. But these hot springs are not the kind you’d want to swim in, no. These hot springs are far too heated, and in a matter of seconds, you’d be disintegrated. These are the hot springs of Yellowstone, Wyoming. And they are fueled by the most terrifying volcano known to man: The Yellowstone Caldera, a super-volcano that has not erupted for hundreds of thousands of years. The man, travelling up the side of this monstrosity, is here to change that.
By Trenton Taylor5 years ago in Fiction
The Blood Alchemist, Chapter 1
Dusk was such a lovely time, the boundary between the tame day and the wild night. Not that the activities of the night didn't take place during the day, it's just no one cared to hide it anymore at night. The setting sun glistens off the river dividing Lautus from Azymus, shining as brightly as the polished white stones of Lautus in the distance.
By Katarzyna Crevan5 years ago in Fiction
“Wouldn't That Be Nice”
I had a dream I went down Lincoln Road. I went to some kind of huge mansion and laid out tarps. I guess there were several floors. I went outside and sat on the grass. I guess we looked at the buildings across the street and imagined renting them. I eventually walked down the road and went to some kind of restaurant to pick up a order. I might have brought it back then forgot my salmon lock sandwich. I went inside and I thought the guy was joking with me. He reminded me of a past coworker. I saw what looked like some kind of frosty salmon locks but he handed me some kind of huge flat piece of bagel. It had nothing on it. I got upset but walked out anyways. Once outside the employee came running out and gave me another order. I guess it was a normal sized bagel to go with my over sized bagel bottom. I started walking home and they kept trying to cable out a crane cable or something. I eventually walked by a parking lot in Worcester. I guess I bought my green car there and traded it in. I saw several cars double parked with metal litter down the road. I guess the junk yard employee recognized me and came running after me. I saw some kind of car with a veteran plate drive by. I guess the junk yard guy gave me a set of wicked thin silver looking brass knuckles. We went into a building he managed or something and got a tour. I guess I saw a huge five foot by five foot rectangular block of green stone on a thirty or forty degree shelf. The stone was cut on the corner starting with a small missing triangle and lead up to a large missing corner triangle. It was hanging over the edge and engineered so it wouldn't fall. I saw a small tree in a pot next to it. I guess we got shown some kind of fire enclosure area before going outside. They mention some kind of company that had affiliations with a local lake commission. I saw hundreds of square stones with short grass growing up between the cracks. We walked under some kind of construction area and it looked like shit all over the ground. It looked dark under the edge of the building. I realized the material was mud once I stepped onto it. We eventually met a old guy that claimed to be a war hero. I guess someone did research and they said he wasn't the guy he claimed to be but someone else at the battle. They went on to talk about how some kind of psychologist with them was accused of doing experiments on people. They suggested the guy might have actually been the guy he claimed to be but with a brain transplant. We went to some kind of building and walked around. I guess it had the history of presidents. We eventually started to leave and said “too bad Lincoln wasn't still around to solve this veteran affair!” Just then a black security guard we vaguely noticed before said “Wouldn't that be nice.” I guess Morgan spent his life working in the building and barely got the attention he deserved. He handed us a heart shaped locket and I realized his hair looked exactly like george washington's hair. We went up into some kind of high part of the building. They talked about adding one more floor level but they couldn't solve the decorative stone problem. Someone with me pressed some area and it opened to a manhole cover in a street. They started talking about adding a couple floors, then they said they might as well build an entire building.
By Jeremiah Christian Obermeyer5 years ago in Fiction
Bane's Talisman
I find myself clutching my mother’s long lost relic. I grasp my heart as tightly as humanly possible and immediately am overcome with happiness. There is no worry here; no pain or suffering. The only judgment is my own. I can smile and laugh and enjoy my mother’s presence. Today is a beautiful day. The birds are singing carols, the air is crisp and clean, and the sun breathes new life on me. Today is a perfect day for a walk in the park to celebrate the joys of life. Our dog, Hutch is with us. He is a remarkably sweet Sheltie worth more than gold. We begin to play fetch. I enjoy throwing the frisbee, but his brown, fraying tennis ball is his favorite. We spend hours, the 3 of us, enjoying every last moment together. Eventually we make our way back home. My favorite meal is on the dining table, ready for me to dig in. How I have missed my mom’s famous lasagna. She would only make it for special occasions. We stayed up late playing games and telling stories, until eventually my heavy eyes gave in and I fell asleep.
By Carver Phippen5 years ago in Fiction
LOVE'S LOCKET
Time slows in the unraveling of a fractured world that finally falls - no longer sustainable. Private corporations develop commercial space travel and other habitable zones are discovered. In a move to protect their interests and save lives, they leave the dying planet to colonize another world, they call Keplar. The exodus begins quietly and builds gradually until the last lottery ticket is drawn and those who could afford the tickets have already gone. Anger and resentment are all that remain.
By Darren Thompson5 years ago in Fiction
Crow's Flight
The final battle narrative was demonstrably false. It was heavily dramatized, created to appeal to masses of adventure-seeking readers and excitable children. In truth, every battle seems like the final one. Every clash of swords feels like the one to break you, every parried thrust feels like the last one you could ever take, and either your faith in your cause forces you to push past the aching muscles and despair, or it doesn’t. Or it’s too weak, and you crumble like paper in the palm of your hand.
By Raphael Schultz5 years ago in Fiction
The Scout
Today was the day for Blake. Routines had been established for the survival of the Roberts Clan. What used to be parklike beauty in the mountains of The former state of North Carolina, in the former United States of America, were now ugly growths of weeds interspersed with great stretches' of barren rock. Grim reminders of the Final American Conflict were everywhere. The Roberts Clan had managed to find a small valley that was hard to find and easy to defend. Still, vigilance had to be maintained.
By Joseph C Thornsbury5 years ago in Fiction
Loon
From far across the field of ice, we saw the smoke. The sun had polished the snow to mirror brightness and we hurried, fearing what the smoke foretold. But the beasts that pull our supply sleds can only trundle through the crusted drifts so fast. Too slow, too slow - but nothing could be fast enough, for my sister was there.
By Danielle Loewen5 years ago in Fiction
