fantasy
Celebrating the fantastical. Let your imagination run wild.
Tea, Cereal, and a Hot Dog Cart
I pulled the frayed blanket tighter around my shoulders, cursing the combination of frigid November storms and an apartment with a broken heater. I looked at the tea that I had already forgotten and reheated three times since this morning, trying to decide if having hot tea was worth emerging from my blanket cocoon. With a heavy sigh, I braced myself and stood, my knees cracking from the change in position as I escorted my tea to the microwave once again.
By Kate Carlson5 years ago in Futurism
NOT JUST A LITTLE BLACK BOOK
I wake far earlier than usual. The suns rays that pierce through the drapes of my small window scorn my heavy eyelids, urging me to reposition my uncooperative body. Perhaps it was my grandfathers passing that had rendered me useless over the recent days, or perhaps It was that I’ve always been a late riser. Nevertheless, this morning was not going to defeat me, after all, today was a new start, a shift in direction. I’d sworn to uphold my grandfathers dying wish, “Be who you were born to be, not someone others think you should be.” These words, however generic, had burrowed deep into my soul, latching on to a part of me I didn’t know existed.
By Matthew Scully5 years ago in Futurism
Merchant's Paradise, Pirates Prize
Barbados in 1682, a merchant's paradise and a pirate’s prize. One such merchant, the former Edmund Handforth, had built up such a fortune and reputation, he had since become a Lord and he was most grateful for this fact. He would have been more grateful had he had a son. Instead he had one daughter. Marina. Where would his fortune, his empire and his title go? This is what brings us to the beginning of our story. In a drawing room of a grand house in the English colony of Barbados.
By Meghan McKenna5 years ago in Futurism
Time and Hope
Rory logged off of his computer and stretched his arms above his head. Leaning back as far as his chair would let him, he let out an intense sound as he felt every muscle in his back fill with blood. How long had he been leaning over the keyboard? He surmised one of the downfalls of working from home, during a worldwide pandemic, was having no ergonomics posters anywhere. No constant reminders he was ruining his posture by sitting like an idiot. He reached for his journal, something he had started at the beginning of the pandemic to cope. It was a small, leather bound, black journal. The pages were crisp, but the edges looked worn, and that was exactly why he had picked it.
By Wendy Strickler5 years ago in Futurism
The Traveler
The circumstances by which he came into possession of the bag were strange indeed. A sense of excitement and fear brought new life to the hairs on the back of his neck. Why had he been chosen? One thing stayed with him. “Whatever you do, do not open the notebook,” the man had told him.
By Camilo Restrepo5 years ago in Futurism
Sandra McCollin and The Templeton Coin.
Dirty clothes piled up day by day on Sandra’s polka dotted lounge chair in her room. You can tell where Sandra is in life by how much clothes piled up. It was the third Sunday of the new year and she had finally hit rock bottom, from the looks of clothes now suddenly floating off the chair onto her sandy carpet. Sandra eyed her dirty clothes with envy of the reflection they gave to her, she too knew she hit rock bottom. Stretching her arms to the sky after tying her coiled hair into a barley-pony (a ponytail that barley made it) She opened her coral curtains that have been hiding her for weeks.
By Keiara McCrae5 years ago in Futurism
When It Rains
Madani had resolved to not cry today - told herself that crying wasn’t what a warrior did. A warrior was strong, striving for Valhalla and accepting death as it came, yet, her chest felt so hollow, she wasn’t sure what else she was meant to do with herself. The ordeal had been living off of her energy, clawing its way underneath her skin until it took every last piece of who she once felt she was. Madani had known she needed to be better than a distant commander, but she felt beyond herself, not quite within reach.
By Corinne Plummer5 years ago in Futurism
Three Music Spells
Most people kept photos which reminded them of how they were before the civil war began. I kept my music player. It was the only thing of real value to me -- perhaps more valuable than the blue-gold and red-gold stones that had been passed on to me by my mother. “Mel,” she told me, “Those are rock moons. You don’t sell them. They should always be with our family. Pass them on to your children.” “What if I don’t have children?” I asked my mom. “Then swallow those rocks,” She said so earnestly that I thought she was testing me.
By KM Varilla5 years ago in Futurism
Jinx and Felix
This story takes place long time ago in a world similar to our own. However in this world many mythical creatures and supernatural beings dwell upon its surface. It tells of a forbidden love in a twisted place between two people named Jinx and Felix.
By Mystery Writer5 years ago in Futurism
Orion, the Hunter
Chapter 1: The Tides Orion ordered another glass of wine with a beguiling smile and the lightest touch of magic to ensure that the bartender forgot to ask for their ID. They hadn’t used magic on a mundane since they were a child but it was necessary for the mission. It was a violation of everything they had been taught…but desperate times and all that rot.
By Jess Lauro5 years ago in Futurism
A Small Battle
"No Twiggle, we gather the light blue petals, not the yellow ones." Meggit scolded. "But Sir Zeet said to pick the softest petals for the magic elixir!" Twiggle argued. He pulled down the long green stem and buried his brown face into the center of a Black-Eyed Susan . "The yellow ones are so beautiful. And they smell so sweet!"
By Debbie McCarthy5 years ago in Futurism
