fantasy
Celebrating the fantastical. Let your imagination run wild.
The Boy Nature Revered
Juniper's earliest memory was of the glorious canopy that shaded his home in the tree. It was made up of a million leaves a thousand shades of green, fluttering in the whisper of the wind with their rustling song. It was a melody he heard every morning in the green season. In the red season, the canopy fell leaf by leaf, until the trees were bare and the cool sky was exposed overhead. Only in that season could one see the stars and the way they twinkled and shone. Then the green season would reemerge; the canopy was present once more, and the stars were gone.
By Sara Jolene5 years ago in Futurism
I AM BROOKFIRE
"Did you hear that?" I looked down at River for his response. He looked up at me with an earnest awareness in his eyes as if to give me his answer, while his ears stayed focused on the mysterious noise ahead. Everyone always said that my dog and I had a special bond. I could always tell what River was thinking just by looking at him. We were more than just best friends. We were like brothers. I was his shadow and he was my light. We never left each other's side.
By Cat Brooks5 years ago in Futurism
The Starlight Mystery
This is difficult to talk about. But... nevertheless I need to write this so that, in the instance of my disappearance or death, there is some sort of explanation for my family and friends. They need to understand that I didn't kill myself. I did choose this though...well I can't remember choosing this life but...ugh... I'm sorry, this is not going to make much sense. As you read this I need you to know you are not immune to falling victim to the darkness that follows us. You must be careful to not get more involved. I said this would be difficult to explain. Even upon reading this you might think, "She's off her rockers, lost her mind" or "She's had a psychotic break." I assure you it's not mental illness. I will try to explain my story without getting you involved.
By Jessica Pallow5 years ago in Futurism
Write it Down! Write it Down!
Part 1- Slacking off is cool And 10. Ms. Heinz has 10 wrinkles on her face. Man, her writing class is boring. Who cares about essay construction anyways? Wow, there is nobody sitting next to me. Do I stink? Hmmm, yeah, I should have showered. Come on Arroyo, get it together. This is college; we must smell nice for the ladies. Oh, there’s Charles. I can’t stand Charles and his rich butt, always so focused during class. What are we even learning? Oh, how to do properly construct an ending? I hate those cutesy happy endings. Man, these chairs are super uncomfortable. Making me lose some blood flow to my legs. How much longer is this dang class? Cannot wait for my next class with Mrs. Herrera. She makes me melt every time I see her. How much time is left?
By Stephen Reilly5 years ago in Futurism
The Origin of the Moth
The first god and goddess were made with a spontaneous flash of light and darkness which resulted in the creation of Aurora, the Goddess of light, and Noctus, the God of darkness. The sister and brother upon their existence created Earth, which they populated with people, plants, and animals. The siblings took turns watching over the small globe, at the same time, showering Earth with light and darkness; what the humans refer to as day and night. Both the god and goddess loved their creations, and kept adding more to Earth and in turn, inspired the people to create even more, such as cloth, paper, and houses. From the building of houses, sprouted the creation of towns, castles, and finally kingdoms. But despite the constant growing ability and knowledge of the people, they had grown to forget their creators, and slowly ebbed away from praising them. Although this bothered both Aurora and Noctus, they agreed they wouldn’t punish their creations, Aurora believed that they should be above jealousy and wrath, but Noctus was having difficulty controlling himself. It wasn’t until a certain mortal caught his attention that Noctus snapped, going against his sister’s wishes.
By Bliss Hawthorne5 years ago in Futurism
MAGICAL EVENING
Oh, my goodness, sleep is not coming easy tonight. I am very aware of the reason for this as the excitement mounts. The alarm is set for 8 am for our girl's trip to the Harry Potter festival. That will allow me an hour to get ready. I could really use a little sleep beforehand as it is sure to be a very eventful day. Up I get to make a sleepytime tea, that should surely do the trick.
By Lillian Chad5 years ago in Futurism
The truth about Lady Persephone
The stories of the Greek gods are well known all around the world, Zeus, Poseidon and Hades, being the big three to recall. But let me go into the truest story of one of my favourite Goddesses... Lady Persephone, Goddess of Spring and Queen of the underworld. As all the stories go Persephone or Kore, the name meaning 'daughter' and 'maiden', she was taken to the underworld against her will by Hades.
By Waterstars5 years ago in Futurism
The Tale of Innes Ursus and Blackbeard’s Black Book
A chill wind imbued with an especially vicious dose of sea ice ripped across the harbor, pounding against the brick and stone structures of Port Pelagica. It was a peculiar port, perilously perched on the southernmost tip of the Porpoise Peninsula. Its streets were lined with taverns and pubs and other unmentionable establishments that never seemed closed, glowing through the night with amber exuberance, not unlike the lighthouse that adorned the cliffs overhead. Of all the unsavory entertainment that streaked up and down the seawall, none was more repulsive than the Rusted Rudder; a refuge for every rogue, rascal, and rapscallion that had ever washed up on the shores of Port Pelagica like pieces of human driftwood. It is, therefore, unfortunate that our story must begin here, as it was under those ragged rafters of the Rusted Rudder that Innes first laid eyes on that book…“Preposterous!” exclaimed Innes. “I won’t hear of it!”. The pirate leaned back exhaling in a half laugh, half wheeze, that was as curious as it was ominous. “What you’re forgetting, Mr. Ursus, is that you don’t have a choice… You want the treasure, you’ll best be purchasing this book.” The words rolled off his Scottish tongue like waves, mesmerising and with enough conviction to knock one over. Innes knew he was right after all. To hunt this treasure, a map would be required - a map that was contained within that book. Innes sighed. That bloody book. He gazed at it across the table, letting his eyes wander across the cracked and peeling black leather binding that somehow kept together a few dozen tattered and yellowed pages. Once smooth and supple, now a dendritic network of textures formed by a hundred years of ownership, theft, bloodshed, and agony wrapped the book and its secrets. Indeed, the story of this book was written on its very cover. But Innes didn’t need the story, he needed the map. Sighing, Innes leaned forward and tried not to let the shaking in his bones infiltrate his voice, “You said it was… 5,000 gold pieces?”. The pirate’s eyes lit up at the thought of all that gold. “Aye, faive thousund”. At least it sounded like he said “faive thousund”. Innes reluctantly reached into his cloak and withdrew a bag with every gold piece he had to his name, and then some, and placed it on the worn mahogany table. “Very well then” he grimaced as the pirate reached out his scarred and decrepit hand to claim his coin, before sliding the book over to Innes. Innes paused and composed himself before picking up his purchase. It was finally his after all these years of dead ends and false hope. A somewhat foreboding sense of excitement filled his heart. This was to be his greatest and most dangerous adventure, for the book had protected it’s mysteries from all manner of suitors for more than a century. However, now these mysteries were living out their last days, as Innes was steadfast in his resolve to unearth the secrets of both paper and soil.Innes returned to his ship anchored nearby, clutching the book under his cloak as if it were his infant child. Once aboard, he hurried to the captain’s quarters where Chon and Gemb waited with bated breath. Innes opened the hatch and scurried in, thrusting the book down on his desk before looking up to his loyal companions. Gemb bent down and brushed the icicles out of his matted and frozen fur…Ah, one detail overlooked in the earlier edition of this tale was that Innes is a bear. Standing a hair (albeit a thick, bearish hair) over three-foot-six-inches, complete with paws and claws and snout and, yes, fur.“So this is it then is it?” said Chon. “This is the book?” Innes nodded, before carefully undoing the sinewy leather cord that was tightly wound across the binding. The paper was old, with thick clumps of pulp creating their own three dimensional topography of mountains and canyons across each page. And there, inked into the heart of this exquisite new world was the map they had all dreamt of for years. At long last it was theirs, and the room seemed to warm as their imaginations caught ablaze with thoughts of treasure and adventure. The trail traversed great seas and deserts, plunged through caverns and swamps, and reached its heady crescendo with a large red X between two adjacent palm trees on Bard’s Beach. Bard’s Beach was a far flung and little known point at the northernmost tip of Archibald’s Archipelago, many hundreds of miles from the Porpoise Peninsula. “Oh how exciting Nes! What an adventure this will be!” Gemb cried out. Innes shuddered. He hated that name, Nes. His name was Innes, not Nes. Gemb of course knew that, but to her he was and would always be Nes, and that was the end of that. Ignoring her, Innes made clear the plan for tomorrow. “Anchors up at first light. We make for Archibald’s Archipelago at dawn!”. For the next several weeks, the ship and its crew were tossed from wave to wave upon some of the most unruly seas they had ever seen. On occasion, loathsome leviathans from unseen fathoms attempted to sink their vessel, rearing their ugly heads and limbs from the broiling blue waters. Yet each time a watery grave beckoned them in with open arms, Innes and crew stood strong on the deck, concernedly consulting every addendum and amendment that littered the pages of the book; “Beware the bacterial barnacles at Bernside Bay”, or “Use 2 3 4 measures of reptile repellent when sailing the Serpentine Sea”. Each time, the book guided them from the clutches of death and towards the embrace of destiny. Innes, Chon, and Gemb worked day and night, each move synchronized perfectly with each other and with the advice of the book, as they navigated. Unfortunate Flying Fish found fate in Chon’s frying pan each day as they gracefully glided aboard, while Gemb scavenged for seagull eggs up in the crow’s nest. After running this gauntlet of trials and tribulations for seemingly endless hours, at long last they awoke one morning to the sight of Archibald’s Archipelago. Bleary eyes spied Bard’s Beach on the horizon. With taught hearts they questioned might this be it? Could this be the end of their quest?The haphazard hull of their rickety row boat slowly ground to a halt against the soft, steamy sand. “Careful now, the book says to watch for carnivorous coconuts over there.” said Innes as he gestured toward a grove of towering trees. At their base were the littered bones of less literate adventurers, their skulls engulfed by hairy coconut husks suspended from vascular vines tracing up the tree, pumping back nutrients from the coco-nutted carcasses. A nasty way to go out thought Innes; one made infinitely nastier by the thought of his severe nut allergy. Cutlasses in hand, Innes, Chon, and Gemb hacked through husk and humid air on their way to the map’s large red X. Surmounting the treacherous thicket, they surveyed the soil that lay between two adjacent palm trees and picked out the center. They lay down their cutlasses and produced shovels from their packs. They dug and dug, passing through layers of sand, silt, and sediment until with a great thud they struck spruce, the best wood to make pirate chests from. They heaved their prize up onto the surface and stood around, eyes racing from each other back to the chest with expectant enthusiasm. Innes once again looked down at the book, which bore one last instruction: 9999. The code to unlock the chest and reveal its secrets. Trembling, Innes bent down and with his little round paw he slid the numbers into place. A brief click resounded through the thicket, and the lock popped off and fell to the dirt. Innes dug his claws into the spruce and pried open the chest. Chon and Gemb peered over Innes’s perked ears, and together all three absorbed the physical manifestation of their collective dreams for the past several years. Shining up at them were piles of gold pieces, easily 20,000 of them, accompanied by rubies, emeralds, and sapphires acting as shimmering crystal isles in a great sea of glistening gold. This was indeed a great treasure, far greater than even their wildest dreams would have dreamt, however as they gazed upon the golden mass before them, they grew somber. With 20,000 gold pieces they were unquestionably rich, and when news of their swashbuckling story reached Porpoise Peninsula they would be unquestionably famous. Why then, did this nagging anxiety rust their golden spirits? Again with taught hearts they questioned might this be it? Could this be the end of their quest? Something caught Innes’s eye. A familiarly frayed leather binding nestled in the gold like a jagged black rock. Innes carefully moved the gold aside and plucked the book out. He glanced up at Chon and Gemb with a surprised smile, before peeling open the pages to the astonished gasps of his companions. “The adventure is never over” Innes mused. “Just so long as you have a good book.”
By Fergus McAloon5 years ago in Futurism
The Immortals
I certainly wasn’t the most popular author in the world, so why they decided to give me of all people their notebook was beyond me. But here I was, with a black, leather-bound book stained with age and dirt, so full of detail and dripping with experiences that it should have been bursting at the seams. The notebook came with a letter and a check for $20,000, a check that did not bounce, much to my surprise. The letter read as follows:
By Nikita Goldsmith5 years ago in Futurism
Tales of Elandria
One The Escape Her feet hit the ground hard. The muscles in her legs were weak and burning from lack of use over the last six years. Shiloh’s mind could focus on one thing alone: run, as fast as she could and as far as her feet would take her.
By LeRissa Crider5 years ago in Futurism
Anabelle's Dreams
Once the dust cloud settled, the man dressed in dark red overalls took a closer look at the mantel piece he had just taken out. Struggling, he lifted the heavy wood piece and leaned it against the wall. He mumbled with a satisfied pitch seeing that it was in very good condition. This would allow him to sell it for at least three hundred dollars. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and started taking pictures. Taking two steps closer to capture the details, his left foot hit something on the floor. It was a small zip bag, full of dust. Realizing that it was hidden behind the mantel, he picked it up and opened it carefully. Inside he saw an envelope and a small black notebook.
By Cristian Carstoiu5 years ago in Futurism
