Fantasy
Neon-Lit Diary
The city at night was a restless creature—half neon, half heartbeat. It murmured in alleyways, whispered across rooftops, and sighed through the vents of old apartments. Most people hurried past these quiet places, but Luca didn’t. Street-artists rarely did. They listened for what others missed.
By Jhon smith2 months ago in Fiction
Rain-Stained Postcards
It begins the same way every time: the first shy whisper of rain against the window, like someone knocking politely on the edge of the world. I sit at my desk, listening, waiting, knowing the moment the sky opens, the impossible will arrive again.
By LUNA EDITH2 months ago in Fiction
Roll Them Bones
Willy is a character from a couple of other short stories I've written. He's a modern day "hedge wizard". For you non-uber nerds, that's a self taught wizard who can perform basic spells, brew potions, and make scrolls. He lives in modern-day New Orleans and uses his abilities and most of all his tendency to be more lucky than prepared to help people. He's not quite a private detective like Harry Dresden. That would require a level of study and dedication he's not always capable of. But he has a good heart.
By Scott Roche2 months ago in Fiction
The Whispering Pines
Chapter One: The Legacy of Cedar Hollow Cedar Hollow was a town wrapped in mist and myth. Tucked deep in the Oregon Cascades, its streets were narrow, its houses cedar-shingled, and its people bound by stories older than memory. The greatest of those stories was Bigfoot.
By LunaRoseQuartz2 months ago in Fiction
Symbiotic: Chapter 4
Sara had taken the time to rest, letting her body adjust to the strange new balance of her stats. The ache in her leg was still there, but she could feel the network humming faintly inside her, spores knitting strength into her frame. She wasn’t healed, not yet, but she was steadier. And steadier meant ready to hunt.
By Canyon Cappola (TheNomad)2 months ago in Fiction
Emerald in Matrix
“Are you all right? You have that pensive look on your face again.” Juana Consuela Miguela Antonia Serrana y Herrero de Casa Esmeralda, True Scion of House Emerald, would smack anyone who tried to use her full name. I’m one of the few who could get away with using it, because I can’t stop my thoughts from leaking into her head.
By Meredith Harmon2 months ago in Fiction
Symbiotic: Chapter 3
Sara limped forward, each step a reminder of the Mauler’s bite tearing at her leg. The silver-threaded bat doubled as a cane, its weight steadying her as she pushed deeper into the jungle. Retreat wasn’t an option. Behind her lay only blood and broken branches. Ahead, perhaps, shelter.
By Canyon Cappola (TheNomad)2 months ago in Fiction
Paper Wings
Elena Moreau had always believed that a courier saw more of a city than anyone else. Not the postcard version, but the real one—the quiet corners where people whispered their hopes into sealed envelopes, the stairwells that smelled of old wood and loneliness, the rooftops where freshly written dreams dried in the sun like pressed flowers.
By Jhon smith2 months ago in Fiction
