Fantasy

Elios
I was told humans weren’t always idiotic fools. I was told we once cared about the place we call home. My mother passed down the little knowledge she was given from her mother—and her mother before her—about the creatures that once roamed this now sullied planet. We once valued nature, we once valued choices.
By Sadé Díaz5 years ago in Fiction
Wings
Arney stared out over the ocean, his claws clicking against the rocks at his feet as he sat and thought. The weather was starting to cool and soon he’d have to find a warm cave to hide in during the snows. He didn’t have to, strictly speaking, but he found it much more enjoyable than having to trudge through all that muck and cold wetness. Being a creature of stone, earth, and fire, he had never been overly found of this part of the year.
By Gianna Robbins5 years ago in Fiction
Light as a Rock & Heavy as Paper
When I was a little kid, I remember my grandmother whispering a tale about mystical creatures that were mischievous and powerful yet not that bright; she’d talk about how they were given extraordinary powers and lived in a world parallel to our own, yet can only cross in the between spaces, doorways, windows and even when the world is at a standstill of night and day at the midnight hour, they run rampant through children’s bedrooms and often times stealing them away into the night; meet the faeries who live rent-free in my mind.
By Bei Maxey 5 years ago in Fiction
Heart-Shaped Box
Heart-Shaped Box By Marie South The bombs had done their damage well, Donna thought as she made her way through the rubble. No one knew which group had done the damage. At least that was what the Sergeant had said. She had heard the phrase ‘war is hell’ spoken many times, even before the war began. Now that the country was in the middle of World War III, almost everyone in America sang it like a song. Those idiots had no idea.
By Marie South5 years ago in Fiction
Awaken the Dreaming. Top Story - June 2021.
The corridors were lined with ancient texts and old oil paintings set in golden frames and crackled shellac. Rich tapestries of silk and wool decorated the floors as ornate carvings protruded from the earthen walls casting shadows and story from the candles that flickered nearby. The air was thick and sweet with a subtle aroma of jasmine and chai spiced tea.
By Donna Raymond5 years ago in Fiction
The Exile
“A great evil has come to creation. When the Chaotic One is known, the true King of Dragons will arise to fight. Twice the King will see beyond the veil and twice he will be tested. Only the true King of Dragons can neutralize the greatest evil. Only then will there be balance within the machine that is the Universe.”
By Solina Silverfire5 years ago in Fiction
Reclaiming Azuria
The large conference room sat seemingly empty. The bright sunlight shone through the hall’s large arched windows, filling the entire room with brilliant light. Everything inside was radiantly white. The high, vaulted ceilings were decorated with intricate carvings of fruit and cherubs, and surrounding the room was wide, tall windows that revealed grand vistas of the land for many miles. In the center of the room was an enormous table with a remarkably large white chair at its head. This is where the kimetar sat during his meetings. Next to the kimetar’s chair, in the corner of the room, stood an ornate, waist-high white pedestal upon which sat a red velvet pillow adorned with gold stitching around the edges. On the pillow rested a smooth orb created from perfectly pure diamond. Around the table, smaller chairs of the highest quality sat empty, save one. At the opposite end of the table from the seat of power, a man reclined, gazing out one window over the cloud tops which covered the land in all directions. He looked young, mid-thirties perhaps, yet he had glistening white hair that billowed over his head and flowed beautifully down to his shoulders. He was dressed all in white. On the table next to him were two small envelopes.
By Christopher Schalk5 years ago in Fiction
Heirloom
I was growing tiresome, but aside from there being a few hours of daylight left, this forest was full of bare snags that didn't provide much cover, and R.I.S.E. was not known for giving up on a hunt. About a mile to the East of here, there is a creek that still flows through this once-thriving forest. As tempting as it is to set up camp closer to the creek, I am certain that is exactly where they will be looking for me. My best chance at surviving through the night is staying to the West and hoping to find some cover before nightfall.
By Joshua Olivio5 years ago in Fiction
The Remarkable Mind Of Doctor Rockit
“Today is the day!” Tis a day of rambunctious deception, murky sorcery, harmonious magnetism, and fascination. I am a man of my word, my hands have built an empire, far from the prying eyes. There is a dark side to the world, one unseen by most. I, Doctor Rock am the master illusionist on Botany Boulevard. Well, illusion is a fussy word. I could say, conjurer, magician, or mad man.
By Jason Bond5 years ago in Fiction
The Rust
She skated two fingers over the glossy layer of crystalized sugar, then tapped lightly on warm little creme brulee. She knew it wouldn’t break through yet to the pudding center, yet pressed it slightly more, not really wanting to break it quite yet. This was such a rare treat.
By Kathryn Premraj5 years ago in Fiction
End of Beef
The End of Beef A whistle blows; “Mooooooove” is heard loudly overhead. I stand in line, hand to my heart locket, and look over at my sister. We follow forward, shuffling slowly. The facility starts to appear from out of the fog. “What do you think happens once we get inside,” I ask. She doesn’t answer. The line continues forward in the dark.
By Kat Moonin5 years ago in Fiction
Bed Time Story; The Great Goat Trainers!
I am Jed. I live in a small town tucked away in a small state with a lot of woods. My family is primarily immigrants from Ireland that came here during the potato famine, although I did have an aunt that couldn't make up her mind, so she was known for going back and forth on numerous trips. My Grandfather spoke of her being the quirky one. He says she's like my Aunt Lorraine. Or Aunt Lorraine is like her, I should say.
By Jeff Johnson5 years ago in Fiction