Historical
The care of the wooden dragon
Once flying over the area, the dragon looks down at the forest floor and sees a rather unusual sight. That sight was a toddler. The dragon finds a break in the trees and swoops down and picks up the toddler, who could not be more than one or two years of age and was a female child. The child has strawberry-blonde hair and bright, blue eyes. The child is also fair-skinned.
By Miranda Monahan3 years ago in Fiction
Devil Among Us
If I had another choice—any other choice—I would take it with one simple question: when can I start? Yes, this is a life that I used to not mind so much in the past. A way to survive is a way to survive, and I’m not particular in how I survive as long as I accomplish doing so. Yet things are different now. If there was ever peace, I have a hard time remembering it. Have atrocities always been made light and comedic by the public? So much so that they sing their songs and make their games with tragedies in mind? If I bet on a horse named ‘Jack the Ripper,’ will it stop him from coming after me?
By Calliope Briar3 years ago in Fiction
Talea has new stickers
Talea has new stickers from her birthday from Timothy. She was sitting in class; Miss. Jess asked everyone to complete Math’s homework. Talea finished her homework, and she has free time. She was making a card for Miss. Jess for teachers' day. Talea sticks red and orange hearted stickers on her purple piece of paper, she fold the paper so it looked like a card. Then Miss. Jess smelled something like strawberries and raspberries, so she asked everyone ‘Attention everyone, if you have food please come over to my desk,’ then everyone surrounded Talea.
By Syeda Tamseel Fatima3 years ago in Fiction
Burial party at Beckenham Parish Church
Parson William Hogarth stood under cover of the lychgate, awaiting the arrival of the body of dear departed brother Jeremiah Stodart with some foreboding. The family were known to the good people of the Kent hamlet of Beckenham as drunkards and ne’er-do-wells and the affair was as likely to end in an unholy debauch as it was to be a sober and somber interment. It did not help that the heavens had opened up, and the parson’s cassock was subjected to considerable muddy splashings from the wind blowing in the torrential rains.
By Raymond G. Taylor3 years ago in Fiction
Night At The Thakur Dalan
The sights and sounds surrounding your sensory nerves as you traverse into a Durga Pujo* mandap* can easily flabbergast you. So many things that go on simultaneously, and as you make your way through the happy cacophony, the cheerful hullabaloo of people, their smiles, the thread of energy that each one of them possesses at that very moment, and manages to share the same with everyone who visits Maa Durga*, is beyond anything that you'll ever feel. You'll slowly and slowly give in to the divine feeling, your brain, and your heart shall seep in everything, every single detail around and you'll enter a zone of your own, a meditative, a zen feeling, where everything else doesn't matter for some moments, it's only you, and the goddess, as you bow your heads in prayer, for a minuscule second or more, the overpowering sounds seem to fade, fade into the distant horizon, and it's only your soul, in front of the goddess, and the chants of prayer that you utter, eyes closed, pin drop silence, you feel there's a certain wave of cosmic and divine energy playing around you, your human senses aren't able to fathom what it is, where it is coming from, where shall it go after some time, nothing. You just keep praying, and after a moment, the sounds slowly return back, and things are normal.
By somsubhra banerjee3 years ago in Fiction
The Barley Field
Ankh stopped running and clutched his side, he had a stitch that burned sharply. His heart was pounding, his,legs ached. He tried to moderate his sucking in of cool,air into his burning lungs. He didn’t want to be heard, he couldn’t be heard or all would be lost.
By Tony Spencer3 years ago in Fiction
