Series
Symbiotic: Chapter 5
Sara’s hunt became a relentless march through the jungle, her robe whispering with silver threads as her bat pulsed faintly in her grip. She no longer waited for predators to find her. She sought them out, following the subtle tug of her Danger Sense like a compass. Each flicker of warning was not a call to retreat, but a beacon guiding her toward the next fight, the next source of strength for her growing network.
By Canyon Cappola (TheNomad)2 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
The Letters He Never Sent. AI-Generated.
Samuel Graves had not opened the study room in three years. Dust blanketed the shelves like tired snow; the curtains remained frozen in place, trapping darkness inside the walls. The house itself seemed to breathe differently when he stood at the doorway — as if recognizing him with a mixture of relief and sorrow.
By shakir hamid2 months ago in Fiction
Ancient Minarets of Afghanistan . AI-Generated.
The desert wind carried a warm breath across the valley as the last shades of daylight slid behind the rugged mountains of central Afghanistan. In the heart of that vast silence stood the ancient minaret—tall, proud, and unbroken despite the centuries that had passed around it. Villagers called it **“The Silent Watcher.”** But for twelve-year-old **Samir**, it was much more than a monument. It was a mystery waiting to be solved.
By Bilal Mohammadi2 months ago in Fiction
Day 3: Gossip in the Religious Routine. Content Warning.
I can only compare the 02:19 wake-up call to a boot camp built right into your childhood treehouse. Having a tank's echo was the real blistering fire finger poker to my headache. Bunked near Ron, I followed him toward the howling echo octaves bolstering of a dying bat squeal out of the bellend that rang deeper and lower the closer you were by the inch. Their solution to this explains the why on the journaling exercise, demented spirits or not, it’s smarter to have pen and paper in this damp, hovering humidity cesspit of body odors before the raid.
By Willem Indigo2 months ago in Fiction
Symbiotic: Chapter 2
Chapter 2 Sara pressed her back against the tree, heart still pounding from the encounter, but her mind refused to sit idle. Frustration burned through her fear. If the System was treating her fungi as party members, then there had to be a logic to it. She closed her eyes, forcing herself to think, and the sterile memory of her lab rose unbidden to her mind.
By Canyon Cappola (TheNomad)2 months ago in Fiction
Cold Cuts: Chapter 1. Content Warning.
"Faith!" I called for my friend from the other room in the suite we were in. I needed her to tie up my dress and to see when she would be ready. We were both famous for being fashionably late, but we really needed to get to this venue on time tonight.
By scaldingblktea 2 months ago in Fiction
