Fantasy

The Great Muscle
“Monsters like these cannot be created, that’s fact not fiction”. Maybe he was right. These type of inhuman , Frankenbeast , probably illiterate sort of militia couldn’t have existed before. I should have known that allowing such a disgusting competition to see who would earn the high stakes, but such basic necessities, wouldn’t be in my greatest interest. How can I muster up enough courage to stop such a brigade? Shoot. I mean… shit.
By Karen Wright5 years ago in Fiction
Escape
We didn’t know what to call it, so we just called it The War. It was the last war of our world, and it happened roughly 100 years ago- according to our parents at least, but they were already dead and they heard the story from their parents. All we had left to remember them was a golden heart shaped locket I wore around my neck containing their picture and our father's rosary bestowed upon my brother. The world they knew was a wasteland now, and we’d been living in this bunker since the day we were born. We knew nothing of the outside world, other than what we saw in the magazines and read about in the old newspapers our grandparents had kept as memories. This underground bunker contained our entire 18 years of life. My entire 18 years of life. We were twins, but not the sort who look the same. We were both unlucky enough to be born in this miserable hole at the same time.
By Kelson Hayes5 years ago in Fiction
Lost Hope
As we walked the jagged remnants of a skyline became clearer through the thick fog. A beacon of hope that promises to be full of what we need to survive. In silence, Layla and I stumble through the mixture of ash and snow that falls from the gray sky above, hope propels us as we stumble faster and faster towards our destination. As the skyline looms before us, I take in the buildings that lean on their neighbors, windowpanes with sharp glass protruding like gnarling teeth or some just missing entirely but I spot the occasional still intact window as we step onto the crumbling pavement. I imagine people peering down at us from those long-forgotten rooms. Rusted cars, overturned buses, and even one-half of an airplane litter our path into the city.
By T. David5 years ago in Fiction
Propagated Cracks
She opened her eyes with a start, with a pounding headache and stinging pain from her forehead, lying prostrate in the dust.
By Alex Gerwe5 years ago in Fiction
SS Inglefield
He couldn’t remember the first time he’d ever seen his mother’s necklace. He couldn’t remember if it was in the before or the after, but why did that matter? It was his favourite thing about his mother, however unfair that was. Her necklace was simple, a heart-shaped locket, with intricate swirling patterns traced finely into the metal. He could stare at it for hours, holding it gently between grubby fingers, afraid of his own filth contaminating the jewellery. His mother would always come back to get it, running long fingers through his ebony hair, sighing at his fascination. She didn’t quite understand.
By Heather F5 years ago in Fiction
Glaedreon
A mother's tears are shed from the heart. When the extension of the astral plane bore nothing but emptiness, cold and dark, it brought a somber weight on her heart. The translucent tears that fell from her cheeks, sparkled and glittered like a thousand diamonds. Each drop fell to her feet, sprinkling along the plane like a million budding flowers. The darkness is really so lonely, so desolate. But to the mother's surprise, a cry above her own reverberated through the darkness. From her tears, life was born.
By Danica Bodley5 years ago in Fiction
Lost Locket Of Eden
Lost Locket of Eden Unwillingly I said goodbye to him as he rushed out the door again, my intuition reminding me yet again that I was only being used as a stepping stone, a means to an end. I know he will never love me the way I love him, but during this nightmare amongst us those who are remaining cling to any bit of love, friendship or vice that keeps us just that little bit sane while feeding us hope at the same time. Even the strongest are hanging on by a thread. There are not many of us left here in my home town, having connection is difficult as it feels like we are all in a race against time with each other. I've stopped keeping track of what level I am on now. It was a couple months ago when i unlocked my first set of abilities, I keep that information to myself till I completely understand how I am supposed to be using them and why. Another factor is if your doing well and having successful missions and wins it makes you an easy target around here.
By Alyssa Sullivan5 years ago in Fiction
Warden Gordon and the Angel in the Woods
Gryff Gordon, at 29 years of age, had nearly 20 years’ experience working in one park or another. Growing up as a child in a village called Chesterton-Burnleigh on the South Downs, he’d been a Cub and then a Scout, and as a little boy he’d started on walks with him, volunteering picking litter in the parks or on the beaches and taking it as seriously as a little boy could.
By Johannes T. Evans5 years ago in Fiction
Sapphire Still
The first Freeze (F1) took place in the morning hours of Wed. May 21st (the first Freeze I know about, I mean). K* pulled that one off himself, and from what I’ve pieced together in the months leading up to F3, it went something like this:
By Daniel Hammer5 years ago in Fiction
The End of the World As We Know It Will Be Fine
Harry McDermott P O Box 8361 Fayetteville, AR 72703-0007 479-444-7853 [email protected] © 2021 1341 words THE END OF THE WORLD AS WE KNOW IT WILL BE FINE
By Harry E McDermott5 years ago in Fiction
The Beacon
The Watchman A lone figure approaches from the east. Sam spots him first. A Freeman from the eastern tribes, no doubt. Come begging for food, most likely. Sam hates being posted out on the cold, harsh frontier, beyond the Kingdom’s borders, guarding the Pyre Hill Beacon. Technically he was guarding Pyre Hill Camp, the small military outpost at the base of Pyre Hill. The beacon was a large unlit bonfire, right at the summit of the Hill. If lit, it would be visible for miles around, warning of the coming of the Enemy. But it has been nearly 50 years since the last reported sighting of any Enemy, and Sam doubts if they really ever existed at all. All Sam has ever seen out here were uncivilised Freemen. And it was cold. Sam hates the cold.
By Dan Jones5 years ago in Fiction
Marla Medizza and the Miopsa mirror. Chapters eighteen and nineteen.
Chapter eighteen A step too far.
By Peter Culbert5 years ago in Fiction