Fantasy
The Forest of the Forgotten
They had barely made it fifty yards from the clearing when Amnity stumbled, her canvas backpack suddenly feeling like it weighed a hundred pounds. The Glowing Imp Root pulsed inside its glass container, and with each throb, the forest around them seemed to... shift.
By Parsley Rose 5 months ago in Fiction
Behind the velvet curtains
“No, please come in, I insist,” said Ziv, a man in his late forties, who ran his family’s enormous castle with many rooms. He lived with his maid, who felt like his mother. Rea, a Mexican actress, visited the movie set to get to know the place she was working in. She was fascinated by the long golden walls, the spacious halls, the red velvet curtains, and the pictures hung that had people who looked ethereal. Still, one shot stopped her; it was the picture of a child who had short red wavy hair, sharp but shiny eyes, and defined lips that looked as if they were drawn. His hundredth plea broke her reverie. Rea accepted Ziv’s invitation and decided to have coffee with him. They had a friendly chat, introducing themselves to each other until…
By Sham Al ahmar5 months ago in Fiction
The Clockmaker's Secret: A Town Where Time Stands Still
Arrival The train coughed to a reluctant stop at the edge of town, and Eleanor stepped off onto the platform, the chill of late autumn creeping into her bones. The air was thick with damp cobblestone and woodsmoke, but had a peculiar, metallic tang—such as the slightest hint of brass and oil.
By The Chaos Cabinet5 months ago in Fiction
Dragon Corps. Content Warning.
Chapter Three School passed by in a blur for Cory. He drifted from class to class, not really paying attention to what was going on, and thankfully none of the teachers bothered him. He was relieved when his final period came, because not only did it signal that school was almost over, but it was his favorite class. Cory walked in and headed towards the broken-down ’67 Chevy in the middle of the garage that served as their classroom until he felt a hand squeeze his shoulder and forcibly spin him around.
By Christine St. Martin5 months ago in Fiction
The First Threads
Preface ❧ Before the keeping of time, before even the stars had learned their names, there was weaving. This tale is said to be among the oldest remembered by leaf and river, whispered by silence, carried by wind, and guarded by stone. It is not the song of gods nor of men, but the weaving that gave birth to both. Preserved in the hush of branches and the glimmer of stars, it is given here as it was first spoken:
By Rebecca A Hyde Gonzales5 months ago in Fiction
