Series

Write In The Middle of It
“Shit!” she exclaimed. The man easily towered over her and would have typically been perceived as dangerous, but he smiled a smile that was so warm it lit up his brown complexion with an amber glow.
By Majique MiMi4 years ago in Fiction
Write In The Middle of It
The Basement was exactly what its name described. It was the basement of a bar that was turned into a dark gathering spot for poets from all over the local and not so local area for a weekly poetry slam. Since the bar made an adequate amount of money on liquor sales, the host provided the slam winners a cash prize that was split from the door cover. Some weeks, the prize money could buy groceries.
By Majique MiMi4 years ago in Fiction
Write In The Middle of It
“No wonder you are blocked,” Erik said when he handed the first four chapters of the book back to Mekayla. Mekayla frowned slightly as she placed the papers next to her on the black leather couch. She put out her cigarette in the black ashtray on the black table and glanced over the living room.
By Majique MiMi4 years ago in Fiction
Leo Paddini's Incredible Travel
Read episodes 1-4 and visit the official WoG website to enjoy the full text of the NFT novel. Hey! My name is Leo Paddini and I am a space and time traveler. As a child, my dad, an astrophysicist, explained to me that the White Rabbit from Alice Through the Looking Glass ran out of one of the tunnels connecting the universe with itself. Such paths are called wormholes or windows to faraway worlds. Peter Pan also flew from Neverland to Wendy and her brothers' homeworld through a similar portal.
By Kate Tsuperiak4 years ago in Fiction
The Blood Alchemist; Chapter 5
Getting across the river is surprisingly easier than I thought it would be. Olivia is able to keep pace as we sneak across the support structure under the bridge. It probably helps that she has good balance.
By Katarzyna Crevan4 years ago in Fiction
Lake of Souls Chapter 17
Previous Chapter The rest of our evening was spent enjoying good food and a small amount of alcohol. Filon refused to let me have more than one drink and only if I drank it slowly. I pouted at him at first but then he explained, "When people get drunk a number of things can happen. Their inhibitions disappear which might lead to you trying to kiss me which as fun as that sounds probably a bad idea. You can get really sick if you drink too much of this stuff. Finally it can make your emotions go all over the place. Happy one minute and then crying the next."
By Josephine Mason4 years ago in Fiction
Obelisk of the End
Illustration and literature by J B. Chapter 1 of Obelisk of the End Ever since I was a kid, I was told not to run with scissors and not to play with fire, but no one ever told me not to play with knives, so I thought that it was okay. I would say that was the beginning of the end, but others would say that it was when I found them. What is “them,” you ask? Well, “them” refers to the knives in my hands glowing with a red tint. How on Earth did I get here? Since when did I go through my sister's personal stuff? I never had done this before, but today was a hot summer day in California and I was sick of watching television, so… I guess that was when I made the unwise decision to go through my sister's stuff. Of course, I could not just find some random garbage or some secrets that I could hang over her head, no… I had to find glowing knives. It was just my luck. My sister had been away at college for three months now, leaving me alone in our apartment, which just shows how much she trusts me and look how I have abused that trust.
By J B.4 years ago in Fiction
Umbra: Chapter Two
She took the note in her hands, assuming it was from a distraught Orion or, god forbid, Massey, but she was wrong. The handwriting was foreign to her- chicken scratch. It was written so sloppily that it was hard to make out, like someone was in a hurry when they wrote it. Orion’s hand was messy but legible and Massey, surprisingly, had very neat, almost lyrical, handwriting. A thought suddenly occurred to her, how did this person get into her room so quickly? Orion had just been there and she had only been in the bathroom for five minutes. This scared her, who was sneakier than Massey? Perhaps Orion saw who it was when he left, maybe he walked right by the person and didn't even know it.
By Amanda Lyons4 years ago in Fiction
Song of a Mermaid
You’re not sleeping? It’s late though. Yes! I am still awake as well, but mermaids are nocturnal beasts. I sleep in the depth of the lagoon during the day.
By Calie Judy Brooks4 years ago in Fiction
Spellbound
It’s a cool winter’s day in the lush forest of Gryu Tuidan, the country housing the most powerful elven establishment on the planet. The pale blue sun has risen to the mid-section of the teal sky, wisps of ash-tinted clouds dispersing left and right. A thick grey fog lingers between the burgundy skyscraper trees and shrouds the forest floor. Thorny vines of poison dangle from branches as tossed rope, and the multi-colored vegetation below dominates the minute walkways amidst the trees. The foliage is freshly dripping with dew, the dark green rolls of the tall, grassy floor weaving up and down and stretching to the border of the land. Touching the border of the lively and lush territory is an unmapped forest, dead and brittle, scorched and desolate. The remnants of trees point upward, naked and sharp as blades, dreary and intimidating as the tales of otherworldly beasts treading the nearby beyond. Tumbleweeds litter the wasteland, along with the endless skeletons from wars passed. Accompanying the dead is a thin, translucent shield hidden amongst nature, invisible yet glowing with a distinct, tantalizing, black aura, forbidding—though tempting—a mortal’s naïve interest.
By Malory4 years ago in Fiction
Hell's Ten
This is part 4 in a series. Part 3 is available here. However, if you'd like to read in chronological order (which I highly suggest!), the story starts here, with a man named Kace Lowry.
By charlotte meilaender4 years ago in Fiction
Millstone
One, Millstone The summoning hitch-hiked on the night wind as it had done so many evenings past. The breeze moved the curtains ever so slightly, billowing them upward as the message sailed past the open doors of the balcony. The gentle intruder swirled through the room, flipped through the pages of my journal and read the entries in record speed before crawling across the bed and waking me with soft kisses. I breathed in deeply, taking in an enchanting breath of the night jasmine blooming beneath the terrace. The fragrance was stimulating, rousing me from slumber. I rolled over and opened my eyes. The white glow of moonlight lit the wall like a spotlight, showcasing the shadow of the juniper tree as it danced to the tune of my wind chimes. The branches moved back and forth, like bony fingers scratching out a cryptic message. I pulled my blanket higher, bristling at an unseen presence in the room. “It’s just the wind picking up.” I comforted myself. Probably a thunderstorm brewing. It would be good sleeping weather. I flipped my pillow, and rolled over, giving the performance my back. The hollow song of the windchimes was hypnotizing, serenading me back to sleep, when the call whispered in my ear, waking me and prompting me to sit up fast this time. “Gunner, are you in here?”
By Denise Parton4 years ago in Fiction