Historical
Holy Water...
This story is inspired by the song Holy Water by Michael Ray. I do hope you enjoy. Well, this is one story that I do not plan on telling my grandkids one day but it is a story and so I'm gonna tell you then I'm gonna deny I ever said anything about it. I used to go to this small little church in my hometown in southern Mississippi. The pastor there, his name was Timothy, he was a real stand-up man. He took good care of his congregation and cared a lot about us and that church. He'd come to us with about 20 years experience pastoring, had just lost his wife and little girl in a car crash the year prior and so he'd taken a year off to get himself right.
By Lindsey Altom2 years ago in Fiction
Brothers In Arms
Franz Franz Anderson squatted with his back against a muddy wall of the trench assigned to him. Mud was the word of the day. The goopy stuff oozed over the top of his boots, stuck to his pants, coated his skin, and even infiltrated his food. When he ran for cover from incoming fire, it slowed his progress. If the officers ordered him “over the top," the mud transformed his charge into a slog. Just the rats that infested the trenches were unhindered by the mud. The only positive effect of having so much mud was that the British and French had to deal with it as well. When the phrase War is Hell was coined, what they really meant was War is Mud!
By Mark Gagnon2 years ago in Fiction
The Whispering Guardian: A Jinn's Nocturnal Secret
Once upon a time in the bustling city of Al-Maghreb, nestled in the heart of the Arabian desert, there lived a quiet and enigmatic young woman named Layla. She was renowned for her melodious voice, and her vocal prowess was talked about far and wide. However, Layla harbored a secret that was as intriguing as it was ethereal.
By Alpha the great 2 years ago in Fiction
Calling out Jezebel
"Oh, Jezebel, oh Jezebel, we call upon thee from the bottom of the River Styx to aid us into this spell we tell..." And there they were. The popular ones. The pretty ones. The "fake" ones. The ones that wore heels and only carried purses with a name brand. Not a hair out of place. With pouty lips colored red and fingernails manicured precisely... almost as sharp and pointy as their countenance, critical remarks, and haughtiness; the lot of them, all gathered together in one clump of unadulterated, manipulating, scheming.
By Shirley Belk2 years ago in Fiction
Humanity
My body shook and my arm ached. I could taste the dirt in my mouth and feel the wet uncomfortable mud soaking through my pants, working its way through my underwear as well. My lips were dry, my head ached, and all around, nothing but noise and battle. My eyes were stinging from the smoke. The smell of blood and metal filled the air. And despite all the commotion, despite the ache in my muscles, I sat as still as a rock.
By Aythan Maconachie2 years ago in Fiction
Whispers of the Forgotten Forest
In the heart of a land untouched by time, there lay a forest hidden from the world. This forest, known only to a few, held secrets that dated back centuries. It was a place where myths and legends became reality, where the trees whispered forgotten tales to the wind, and the very earth seemed to breathe with ancient magic. This was the Forgotten Forest.
By Esther Anima2 years ago in Fiction











