fantasy

Celebrating the fantastical. Let your imagination run wild.

KEEPING THE FAITH
“$100!” Dimitra exclaimed, as she rifled through her bag. Her husband smiled and waved away his wife’s absurdity. “It probably fell out of your purse…”
By Travis Berketa5 years ago in Futurism
Gilded
By the morning the wet snow had frozen so the driveway was covered in a slick ice. She walked carefully out to the mailbox to get the paper and back in the warm kitchen, she flipped through stories about the new covid vaccine, sipping hot strong coffee. "Soy milk, bacon, fusselli, bedcover" she wrote in her little book.
By Sue Charles5 years ago in Futurism
the Word
"I'm not kidding, it's true”, he said gravely. “If you write down the Word, the next sentence you write after the Word will become reality."
By Ty Lee5 years ago in Futurism
Getting Lucky
The first thing Kane Saraci heard upon waking was the dusty white box fan in the corner of his bedroom. He overdid the whiskey last night he knew, because every passing blade made a whoosh sound that seemed just a hairs breadth quieter than a freight train. His tongue was dry and thick in his mouth, all he could taste was cigarettes and... Colts foot? Maybe, but the flavor was earthy and rich.
By K.W. Thomas5 years ago in Futurism
Take Your Hands Off of Me
Take Your Hands Off of Me by Jackson Houska It was painful in the most exhilarating way. With every breath of ink, the words of your fortune tattooed my pages. In the moment there was a feeling of ignorance, what purpose could there possibly be for me to fulfill? I suppose I do understand. I recognize that you like all people have an insatiable desire to experience more than you can and become more than you are. You want to travel the world, maybe ride a motorcycle down the Autobahn, find security in the embrace of a partner, and live without limits. This is beyond my comprehension, however, as I am merely a book: approximately three inches in length and three inches in width. The world in my perception is the desk Brian built you before he left, my only friend the pen used to sign the divorce papers. Even in the monotony of this existence, however, you still fail to grasp my influence. Likely, you told your parents that you simply bought a winning lottery ticket, a random stroke of luck in the piss stain that has been the past year, but that is a lie. What is objective to the both of us is that two days ago the words “twenty-thousand dollars” appeared on the first of my pages and when you woke up yesterday morning you could suddenly afford the rent.
By Jackson Houska5 years ago in Futurism
Goodnight, Spaceboy
In the night chill of a bitter December, two boys fled through the narrow back alleys of New York City, the taller one carrying a duffel bag in one hand and tugging the smaller boy along behind with the other. They tore through the eternal detritus of the city between dark brick walls forever stained with ancient graffiti, their ragged shoes splashing up water as they ran across puddles from the previous night’s rain.
By Cam Sim5 years ago in Futurism
Breakout
Little droplets of blood trailed behind us as far back as the front door, I observed as I looked back on the burning building. The black smoke rising out of the windows of the crippling brick building was a stark contrast to the reflective white show, which covered the area around the prison in three or four feet. I was shining deep in that snow, squinting my eyes against the sun-reflecting snow at the fire. I wondered how many other prisoners had been trapped by the fire… It was just our luck that our room has been on the outside wall, and the window had bolts that had been frozen off which made it easier to kick open.
By Caroline Collignon5 years ago in Futurism
Juniper’s Gift
It was an ordinary day in the ordinary village of Lyria, Massachusetts. The town was bright with fall colors of goldenrod and maroon, peppered with hearty browns and the occasional stray phthalo green. Leaves blew in brisk, miniature tornadoes across cobblestone streets, kicking up the oddly pleasant smell of decay that came with the changing seasons.
By Rebecca Brost5 years ago in Futurism
It's a Classic
A hundred years is a long time to commit to a thing for anyone, unless they expect to live more than ten times that long. When they choose to spend the rest of their life with the one they love, though, it doesn’t seem as daunting.
By Sjan Evardsson5 years ago in Futurism
The Little Black Book
The Little Black Book George Dasher The man was riding his bicycle down a narrow trail of gravel. It was a warm summer evening, and there were cornfields on both sides of the trail, with tall corn, and a rail fence on his left. The trail was straight, smooth and well cared for, and slightly downhill. He was in his bike’s highest gear, pedaling hard, and was moving extremely fast, with nothing but the briefest glances for anything that he was passing.
By George Dasher5 years ago in Futurism
The Lost Templar Series (16+)
Chapter 1: The trial of fear “My earliest memory of Scarletta's House was around three years old, when i heard another child call her mother accidentally. I had laughed at him, corrected it to 'Scarletta', and he then informed me it's what you call your parent if she's a woman, I was confused” – Kira's Journal
By Eryc Fawx5 years ago in Futurism
Little Black Book
It all happened on a Sunday. Karly awoke around 6am to catch the sunrise with her dog Chilli. There’s nothing extraordinary about Karly. She played tennis and did gymnastics as a child, but never placed first. Her grit was admirable but unfortunately never took her far. The pride and joy in her life is a dog named Chilli. They greet each other excitedly at the front door every time she comes home from work. He’s a thirty-five-kilogram Australian Bull Arab. She’s a five-foot nine skinny woman with big blonde curly hair.
By Karly Rae5 years ago in Futurism