fantasy
Celebrating the fantastical. Let your imagination run wild.
The Secret of Moleskine
Thank God, I am not a faint hearted, otherwise I would have already been on my way to hospital. But it’s still an option considering how good friends The Macallan and me became since the last night. It was definitely the most welcomed friendship ever; because no matter how many times I reread the will, I still couldn’t wrap my head around it.
By S.T. Parker5 years ago in Futurism
The House of Mu
It was dawn. The winter chill still lingering in the air welcomed me as I was awoken by a strange sound coming from outside. The sound was indescribable and almost unworldly (but in a good way). Some say it was the sound of angels and others say it was the song of the gong in heaven being played by God himself. I knew this sound was calling me. It was so strong that it reached withinside where my soul resides and yanked me out of my comfy blanket and pillow-filled bed.
By Julia Muñoz5 years ago in Futurism
Hexenzauberbuch
Hexenzauberbuch By Patricia Magdalena Redlin It’s a tiny book, as small as one of those mini dictionaries that were popular back in the late twentieth century, until smartphones became ubiquitous. She herself owned two of the mini-dicks (as she had called them). Just the thought of the nickname she had given to her two tiny dictionaries causes a giggle to escape, along with the usual snort. She never learned how to giggle without snorting.
By Patricia Magdalena Redlin5 years ago in Futurism
Glinting Starlight
She walked through the decimated cobblestone streets of Verdici and entered the contracted house. She made quick work of assassinating the young lady, blood falling like hail on the photographs nearby. Cressida put her blade away and walked through the house trying to see if there was anything of note to take. In the kitchen she found a jar of honey, a rare commodity in the state of the world. She heated some water and put a dollop in swirling it around like a cup of sunshine. She sat for a moment and sipped the sweet drink, letting it linger on her lips before writing her latest kill into her leather black notebook. She didn’t like to kill, she had been forced to as the head of her clan. Her parents had lived that way and so she was forced as well. She said a quick prayer for the girl and slinked out the back door vanishing into the night.
By Lara Eaton5 years ago in Futurism
Glass and Honey
Juno knew CLOVER wouldn’t contact her through so public a channel as a linking contraption for anything small. The classic and underrated carrier pigeon was their usual method. The prismatic-goggles Juno wore kept her eyes free of the toxic sting of the smog but were too dark for the dampened light straining into the alley. She pulled them down around her neck, scrubbing the marks left behind with the sleeve of her overcoat.
By Cerridwen Stucky5 years ago in Futurism
The Militant Magician
As she pulled her coat further over her shoulders to shield out the rain, Briar Rose could still not remember her parents’ faces. Somehow the lack of memories made her angrier every year she edged older. Not that she missed them, she didn't even possess an idea of who they should have been. It was the principle. Every day she was closer to sixteen and every day felt like she was more and more of a disappointment.
By Erin A. Sayers5 years ago in Futurism
Life's Work
Lisa turned her car off, cracked the window for some misty morning air, and got ready for a fresh round of worrying. It wasn't just that she'd shown up an hour early for her new job, although she had. It wasn't because her car had begun to make an ominous ticking noise, either. No indeed: she was thinking about her student loans. The job market was bad-- really bad-- radioactive, even-- and she had delayed the payments as long as she could...
By S.E. Akins5 years ago in Futurism
Befana's Blessing
"You can't be serious right now! He got daddy's inheritance he's not even the oldest I am. All he has ever done is sit on his behind and benefit from our family's hard work." she slams her hands on the table she looks at her brother with rage filled blue eyes "You will never see a dime of that money you low life piece of -"
By Miya Gwynn5 years ago in Futurism
Caravan of Hope
The Seed lays deep below the grassy field, waiting for the rain and the sun to rise and waits for the thunder and the snow to leave. She waits, and waits, one insect eating her home away at a time. The Seed can’t wait for her brother to sprout either, as they were placed at the same time. What she had remembered during her planting was that she was something the creatures called a “birch” while her brother had been called something beautiful, a “pachira aquatica.” The Seed just enjoyed the first name so much that that’s what she decided to dub him, Pachira. Pachira sat and laid, also admiring his sister's growth and wanting the two to meet. He thought “Birch” wasn’t fitting for her potential beauty so he dubbed her Betula. The meadows winds came and went. Dandelions sprout, then die, and sprout, then die again. The Seeds wished their process was as fast. Even the beautiful four legged creatures saw life and death before they got their chance to have a meaning
By Dustin Briggs5 years ago in Futurism
Luna's Blessing
I guess when you think about it, I really shouldn’t say a word… Folks like us only tell our truths when we’re on our death beds or when our luck has just run out. You know like those vintage shows on stream; a lawyer stares at a person somberly and gives two options and there is really only one choice.
By Renata Philippe5 years ago in Futurism
