Humor
Tales from the Cooinda Cycle: Memory Nine
I still don’t know how exactly we got on to the topic, but The Old Man talking about his various jobs as a young man was actually interesting. It was one of the better days in the cafe, not too busy, and so far nothing overly odd had taken place.
By Savannah K. Wilson3 years ago in Fiction
Silver Line of Power
A fiery rain poured over my head at sunrise as the field artillery fired from the other side, sending their led balls hurdling towards us. All I wanted was to get out alive. This dreadful war was the worst thing I had gone through. It was worse than when three of my cousins died the same day of cholera. If only the South would just surrender. They were on the path to defeat, why delay the inevitable and cause more death. They called what we were doing ‘Northern aggression,’ but I had called what they were doing land theft. Jefferson Davis was the one who wanted to break off from the union, but maybe Lincoln could make a few concessions, give the South some of their own land in exchange for every slave and draftee on their side being freed. I had no preference as to which side won, I just hated fighting. I was no cowardly deserter though. I had fought gallantly with my honor and integrity intact.
By Alex H Mittelman 3 years ago in Fiction
Bill the Drake
This is the tale of Bill the Drake. Of course, his name isn’t actually Bill, it was Bildor-Nuwel, and in case you care he was a Fae Dragon, the most magically powerful of the Lesser Dragons, but all of the Lesser Dragons can be at least semi-accurately referred to as Drakes. He was known to help people who were lost in the woods on the mountain, and those people took to calling him as Bill the Drake, because part of his name was Bill, and he was a Drake.
By FFR Stories3 years ago in Fiction
Fool Proof
The vibrant green forest was quiet. Too quiet for an Anoxiver morning when life was supposed to be in renewal, and quieter than it was yesterday. Éimhím trudged onwards, unsettled. His pastel, deep lime green scales with their rich pink undertones, bristled. It shouldn’t have been so quiet, especially not during the yearly two-week eclipse. He had gone years and years seeing it all over the world, and it was never this quiet even in the calmest of places, let alone here, the most dangerous region during the lightlessness.
By Mychaila A. Rose3 years ago in Fiction
Amensalism
I hear you asking for a tale, but what you really need is a lesson. Now, don’t you try to play dumb, young one. Madam Sinclair sees all, and aye, that includes you. I’ve seen you and your merry band of rogues frolicking out there in them woods, taking advantage of your beleaguered mother and her poor tired eyes that are kept so doggedly set on her waning craft. You’ll worry her out of a livelihood if you keep on that way, and what’ll you do for food when her spiralling fires have no crowd’s worries nor wallets to lighten? Will you find salvation in your infernal forest then? Hmmmm? I think not; there’s nothing in there but stubbed toes and hefty woes for you.
By Tyler Vance3 years ago in Fiction
A Case in The Countryside
It was a fine spring day; the blooming flowers painted a canvas across the rolling hills of Bonhema. Blue jays twittered and danced about, their merry songs carrying gracefully on the slight breeze that gently tossed the grass to and fro. But, for Edward Frumpton, it was too hot. It was almost always too hot for Edward, Ed to his wife, and Eddy to his friends. Perhaps it was being stuck directly in the sun. Perhaps it was due to him being slightly overweight while also being crammed into a far-too-stiff set of clothes. Perhaps he just ran hotter than most. Whatever the reason may have been, he was rather uncomfortable.
By Nicholas Aicher3 years ago in Fiction
