fantasy
Celebrating the fantastical. Let your imagination run wild.
Bring Me to Life
It all started after his surgery, the dreams he had were not of normal dreams. Yes, he had lost the love of his life but those are what he thought they were about. He was wrong. She was part of the dreams, but they didn’t occur until after the surgery, as said before but he didn’t know why they were happening the way they were. He thought they were dreams of his own death, but he was wrong, dead wrong. He never thought they would be a foreshadowing of someone else’s death, just his.
By Marcus F Miller5 years ago in Futurism
Deus
Black fog permeated the air, Greg tried to persevere the scene, he hated scenes like this. Not because it made him sick to the stomach but the amount of work that was attached to counting: the bodies, cleaning the area and keeping the media or known public away was vexing. Bending down his knees made a creaking sound. “Damn it” he uttered rubbing his lower back. The clipboard fell into a puddle, picking it back up a string of raven red slime stuck to the wooden board. “You’re contaminating the scene” came the shrewd voice behind him. Turning a man in an ivory-colored hazmat suit stared at him head cocked to the side. His purple eyes mirrored his “I don’t think he’d care much” he replied. Using the other end of his protected hands wiped the substance off. The visor on his suit began to mist and fog up, making it difficult for him to see the name on the paper. “Goliar Voltir died by a broken neck, time of death second half of the nights moon”, “Use modern terms damnit” Craig rolled his eyes “six o’clock” he scribbled on his clipboards. “There, God you must be a stickler don’t you” Greg stood at least 2 feet taller than him “I’m following the rules here guy, you know how he gets” At the side of his eyes he made out what look to be a child as she ran back and forth through the corridor of bodies. She sang a whispery song he could barely figure out what it was. He thought to himself as he watched her run back from the edge of one body to the other. "little Adva’s” Greg said dropping the folder on the floor. Believing her to be a nuisance he walked over to her, she stopped conflicting eyes of grey and purple looked back at him “huh Mar" Adva said back to him dropping her smile. “Three clams in his hand" she continued. “He was busy today much more than usual; he knew he could owe it all to the festival of the ancients which was commencing right around the corner.” Adva pointed to a dirt mound nestled in the corner of a shack. Affixed a top the mound stood a stone statue depicting a clothe woman holding a baby calf in her arms. Greg took notice of the sky the clouds moved slowly in a fluorescent wave blue as the ocean circled around them and the entire island for that matter, he looked at Adva her eyes looked tired he thought to himself. She must have reaped a hundred souls before they arrived. "come and eat" Greg said to her as he gestured her over to the shack "it's especially hot today, the sun seems to be angry today" she replied in a half dehydrated and tired tone, Greg conjured up a cup of fresh water and gave her a roll of bread and a small scale of arbor fish. Adva face lit up like shining stars in the moonlight night.
By Craig Myers5 years ago in Futurism
The Face in the Mirror
Grace shot straight up in her bed, her strawberry blonde hair clinging to her face from being drenched in a cold sweat. Her alarm was blaring next to her ear, she reached over and smacked it off, she was in a terrible mood. Grace had the same horrible nightmare every night for the last week, it was getting more vivid with each passing night. With a groan, Grace rolled out of bed and quickly got dressed to join her mother at breakfast before school.
By Tiggerish Eeyore (Aaron Wood)5 years ago in Futurism
My Special Friends
Once upon a time, not very long ago, there was a man living life as best as he knew how. One day, while on his evening stroll through the park, he came across a door. An impossible door, it was there but not at the same time. It was solid gold, adorned with precious gems in familiar patterns. There were suns of rubies, stars of diamonds, moons of sapphires. Even as the man stood there staring, the door flickered like a flame on a candle, wavering but not ceasing. Cautiously, he reached for the amethyst doorknob and gave it a turn. The man was yanked inside the door by an invisible force and he found himself in a quiet sunlit meadow with various colored flowers dotting the area. Looking about, he saw no door. How was he supposed to get home? Where was he now?
By Tiggerish Eeyore (Aaron Wood)5 years ago in Futurism
The Journey of the Phoenix
Once upon a time, a great many years ago, there was a man who loved music. He loved making music, he loved listening to old songs and new songs. The man preferred staying home and working on his music rather than going out and being social. "Man, I wish I could go somewhere where I could work on my music and not be bothered so much by time and people." The man said as his phone started ringing, his manager again likely wanting an update on his current work. Hitting the ignore button, the man went to the fridge to get a snack, but the door wasn't the off white fridge door he had opened so many times before. It was an ornate golden door with sapphires, rubies, and diamonds. The knob was made from amethyst. "I must be working too hard," the man said, shaking his head. Opening the door, there was a sudden flash of light and the man found himself standing in a warm pool of water. There were two small waterfalls twice his height leading into the pool, steam rising from the base. Looking at himself, he found that he had become some kind of bird, silver-white.
By Tiggerish Eeyore (Aaron Wood)5 years ago in Futurism
The Little Black Book
She will be 25 years old tomorrow. Staring in the bathroom mirror in disbelief, she runs her hands through her damp hair, then over her freshly washed face. She checks her forehead for age lines and her eyes for youthfulness. She inhales then exhales very slowly. She opens the cabinet to remove her purple toothbrush and coconut toothpaste. After brushing, she runs her tongue over her clean teeth. She rinses her mouth and places the items back on the cabinet shelf. A low sigh is released as she takes one last look at herself before heading to her bedroom.
By Tabatha Ann/ Tee Mee5 years ago in Futurism
St. Catherine's Home for Lost Souls
I woke up to the sound of the Mourning Dove song. A simple question from that soft breasted bird: who. . . who. . . who. I don’t answer back, they already know me. Even though it’s only early morning the room is already glowing with light. It’s a small humble place with walls and ceiling of smooth white stucco, and the bed sheets I lay in are made of crisp white cotton. To my left is an old oak door that leads to the hall, and to the left of the door is an old oak wardrobe with all my possessions. At the foot of my bed below a thin window, rests a small pine desk with a chair. To the left of the desk is a door-less doorway leading to the balcony. To the left of the balcony doorway is a porcelain sink with a small pocket mirror sitting on the windowsill above. If anyone else had just woke up in this room they might have mistaken it as a little cell in Heaven.
By Chase Howell5 years ago in Futurism
The Twilight Realm
Amber light filled the solarium, leaded windows throwing geometric shadows on the tiled floor. The room was small and warm, filled with plants and low cushions for relaxing in the afternoon sun. A hospital bed was nestled in the far corner, made up with blankets and pillows in warm, rich hues, softening the hard lines of its metal frame. A woman was nestled among them, her face turned to watch the birds washing in the morning dew just outside the window.
By Emily Bryant5 years ago in Futurism
