Series

Black Scales VI: A Gift for the Dragon-Girl
When the sun dipped low in the sky, the ritual began. The parents not yet numbed to it hugged their children close. The ones who could bear it watched the little ones toddle towards the lake; that black stain shrouded in mist. It repelled the eyes, as if it were a magic mirror, an evil one, and not looking at it could save you.
By L.C. Schäfer3 months ago in Fiction
TUS NUA - ch 39
TUS NUA – ch 39 New Beginnings – Mia and Midnight (*)(*)(*) The wards that Finola placed on her home long ago were still in effect and once she brought Seth inside, although he had no magical abilities, was still rendered helpless until Finola or Alistar decided otherwise.
By Margaret Brennan3 months ago in Fiction
The Room with the Quiet Clock. AI-Generated.
I didn’t notice when the clock in my living room stopped working. It had been there for years, a quiet heartbeat in the background — ticking through every dinner, every phone call that ended too soon, and every silence that stretched between me and the walls.
By Ali Khan 3 months ago in Fiction
Black Scales V: A Poison Tree
Orla grappled with her fever like it was a physical thing with tentacles. She thrashed in and out of dreams that were hot and tight and squeezy, with sharp edges.
By L.C. Schäfer3 months ago in Fiction
Pooh meets Paddington
As Pooh and Paddington continued on their journey through the Hundred Acre Wood along with all Pooh's friends so far, they decided to take a rest under a tree. They sat and Paddington told Pooh about London. Paddington looked up towards the sky and noticed a bird that should only fly at night. Oh, look at that bird Pooh. That's my friend Owl. Owl saw and landed. Now going further down the path, they run into Rabbit. Introducing each other they all head to Christopher Robins's to see if he knows how to send Paddington home to London from here.
By Mark Graham3 months ago in Fiction
“The Empty Vessel and the Unyielding Flame”
“The Empty Vessel and the Unyielding Flame” At Waking Summit Monastery, where clouds bowed low to the mountain and monks bowed lower still to the First Ones, the Doyho was more than a sparring circle, it was a crucible of spirit. And within it, two names echoed like drumbeats: the eldest Disciples. Komuso, the Empty Vessel, and Jiro, the Unyielding Flame.
By Canyon Cappola (TheNomad)3 months ago in Fiction
🍂 Arise, Fair Leaf. AI-Generated.
The wind carried whispers through the forest that morning—soft voices of trees remembering the warmth of summer. The world was shedding its color, one leaf at a time. All but one.
By shakir hamid3 months ago in Fiction
Journey to the Center of the Galaxy
Sillan already knew who he would be talking to next. Horos Draco's security clearance would be to low for a full interrogation of a Lunerian. Lylan made an authoritative and quick entrance into the interrogation room. She made her way to the other side of the table (where Draco had been sitting). She sat down politely in front of Sillan and evened out a wrinkle in her blue Federation uniform. She had at least twice as many medals as Horos.
By Po Ivey3 months ago in Fiction
Book of Bella: Prologue
16 year-old Bella Rose awakens with her little sister Lily to the crack of a single gunshot splitting the still night. Heart pounding, she throws off the covers and hushes Lily to stay put. Barefoot and breathless, Bella runs to their pa’s room — and freezes.
By Norrie's Korner3 months ago in Fiction
Black Scales III
It's amazing how much braver you can be when there isn't a fire-breathing monster nearby. Orla took a good look at the girl, who didn't look like a dragon at all. She'd scrambled up on a nearby rock and was staring down at Orla, hefting a large stick in her hand.
By L.C. Schäfer3 months ago in Fiction
Letters from the Rain – A Love Beyond Time 💌
They say love can survive distance, time — even death. I used to think that was just poetry. Until I met her… and the rain became my reminder that some stories never really end.
By Naimat ullah3 months ago in Fiction
Freewheelin' Musings
Summer days are gone. Gone is the smell of suntan lotion. The smell of the sea breeze remains in my memory. Farewell summer, I'll miss you until next year.
By James Staskus3 months ago in Fiction