fantasy
Celebrating the fantastical. Let your imagination run wild.
Feather Dance
She flew silently through the cold dark night. She was but a ghost within the forest. Unseen and unheard on her pale gentle wings. She move quickly past the bare branches of the trees, and over snow covered fields. her had to hurry. she had no time to spare, fore ever moment counted. she had to find him. the one the other birds call the Vulture, The Scavenger, The Dead Bird. she had only ever heard stories of him. in all truth she didn’t even know if he was real or just a bed time story told to scar little owlets. But tonight she hoped, and prayed that he was real. Because it was said that he could give know life to all that he touches.
By Jackson MacDonald5 years ago in Futurism
The Tale of the Barn Owl
The last snow flake of the harsh blizzard fell on top of Lalia’s blushed nose. She had been walking for the past hour in the storm of icy horror to follow up on an attack against old man Higgins. Someone or something had taken out the village where he lived. She was uncertain to the extent of his injuries. But, from what the attached note on the eagle read, he was in bad shape. She wanted to bring him some healing potions she had made earlier that day.
By Selina Call5 years ago in Futurism
Temporary Escape
Dorian, a programmer looking for a temporary escape, has left for his late grandfather’s homestead. It's a warm summer’s evening in a peaceful valley shadowed by mountains overlooking a calm almost glass-like body of water. Dorian is sitting next to a small fire, with a fishing line in the lake, hoping to catch some breakfast for the next morning. His attention trails from his rod when he follows the fiery smoke up into a beautiful aurora that illuminates the night sky. Before he can acknowledge the natural spectacle, his line jerks bringing his attention away from the colors and back to his world. He quickly reels in the fish, securing his next meal.
By Andrew Spencer, Sterling Howe5 years ago in Futurism
Athena's Companion
I was born from the earth. I hatched from its soil, bursting like a green bud, drenched in the springtime sun. I did not have eyes yet, but already I could see the great temple surrounding me. Hers was the face I saw first, though she was not my sculptor. She watched as Hephaestus seized me, blacksmith of the gods, and pounded my body with his meaty palms until it was a perfect weapon.
By Maddy Ando5 years ago in Futurism
Moonlit Night
I aroused from my slumber to find the sky above me painted with a mixture of pinks, oranges, blues and a faint red. Sunset was one of the most peaceful times of my nights. I watched as the beautiful spread of colors slowly faded into the deep purple black that meant night was upon me. I gathered everything I would need for the night into my satchel that I placed on my right hip and jotted out the door. Out into the cool breeze of the night I went, the moonlight guiding my movements as I approached the edge of the woods on the back side of my home. The tightly woven trees made it impossible for the light of the moon to reach the floor of the woods, creating somewhat of a black hole look along the tree-line.
By Sharisse Fry5 years ago in Futurism
Emily West
,Emily West, in many ways, appeared to be a typical toddler. At two years and eleven months of age she had soft, golden curls that framed her obsidian eyes and her dancing, deep, midnight lashes. She had a glistening mouthful of pearl-drop teeth and a smile that demanded an audience. But Emily West was not a typical toddler.
By Ava Banduri5 years ago in Futurism
