fantasy
Celebrating the fantastical. Let your imagination run wild.
A Thousand Years
Duncan loved Ana with all his heart, soul and spirit, and their love endured much like the song A Thousand Years. Their love spanned time and could not be dampened even with the evil witch's curse that held him to the house. Margaret and Duncan were betrothed, but as time went on, Duncan found that Margaret's views did not line up with his own, therefore he released her from the betrothal. Margaret was not happy about this, to say the least, you know the saying "Hell hath no fury like that of a woman scorned"? Well, Margaret was more than scorned and more dangerous than the average woman.
By Emily A Dinwiddie6 years ago in Futurism
Story About Hazel
This story begins with a woman named Hazel, when she was about two years old her father left her with her mother who had a drug addict. As she was in school she tried to make a friend or two but she never did she was always the last one pick in any event. As Hazel got older she started going to the library to do some research on her family history, she remembers her father saying that she was special and when she gets older she will know how special she is. Hazel was a violent person but who could blame her she was raised with a drug addict of a mother who didn’t care much for her. As Hazel got a lot older she stopped talking to her mother, she didn’t even attend her mother's funeral as she was far away at college. She was glad she doesn’t have to worry about her mother laying a finger or hand on her ever again. But she started thinking about what am I to do with the house the only thing she thinks is once she finishes with college she can move back and live in her childhood home maybe fix it up a bit. As she was thinking all of this she ended up with a weird feeling like she was being shocked deep down but she looks and she didn’t see anything and she wasn’t stepping on anything either so where was this shock was coming from she was trying so hard to figure it out but the shocking feel just disappeared so she didn’t think anything of she was thinking one of her limbs fell asleep and it's now getting the blood flowing back in. As she was packing to get ready to move back to her hometown she remembers that shocking feeling she got the other day she is going to have to do some more digging on her family when she gets back. As she got on the plane to head back to her childhood home and the place she wants to get out so bad is now calling her back. As she was getting off the plane she had that same feeling hit her again but this time she was sitting down wait on her ride to take her home so she decided to give herself some little messages where she was feeling it, it works a little bit and as she got into the taxi she even up with a lot more shocking pain but she tried so hard to ignore it until she got home. Once she was finally home the pain was soo bad she let out a loud growl and as she was trying to figure out where and how she growled like that she feels her body being set on fire she didn’t know what was going on with her, she headed to the bathroom and ran a cool shower seeing if that would help cool her body temp down. She stood there for a couple of hours until she was cool and relaxed. As she was getting out of the shower she looked into the mirror and she saw her birthmark had gotten darker she thought to herself she never seen it change. As she was looking herself over she found a scar she has never seen before it was had some teeth and a nail marking of an animal. She was trying so hard to remember some of the things her father told her mother about her but she can't remember anything it's like someone erased her memories. As she was getting ready for bed she started looking at old pictures of how it used to be before her father left and her mother got into drugs.
By Meghan Chiever6 years ago in Futurism
Crimson Red
The night was still. The stars danced in the sky, streaking it's glow against the dark indigo. The village was awoken by horrid screams that echoed through the silence. The screams came from an unusual place, the King's castle. Villagers flooded the front gates of the castle, desperately trying to see what had caused the commotion. The castle's large steel engraved doors slowly creaked open. A hush went over the crowd. A young man named Kai with beautifully bloodshot hair that shaggily rested against his pale skin, calmly walks out into the moonlight holding two long blades over his shoulders. They were drenched with red and dripped to the ground, leaving a trail behind him as he walked to the out into the open area. He closed his eyes and lifted his head towards the sky, allowing the glow of the moon to wash over his face. It gently highlighted the blood that outlined his slender figure. Whispers sliced through the silence questioning the situation.
By Psychotically Sweet6 years ago in Futurism
The Chronicles of a Lost Time Traveller
Staring at the clock again... it’s 1am and I am beyond frustrated. I keep telling myself this gift is something to be grateful for, and yet I feel nothing but apathy and depression. Nothing ever seems to be worth the effort anymore. If I could explain what it feels like to relive moments in time, no one would dare wish this gift on their worst enemy. It sucks the joy out of every present moment because you already know the outcome of every possible action. It creates dissonance between you and your friends because no one understands (let alone believes you) when you say you’re stuck in dejavú. It makes you look like a lunatic with a poor memory because you either didn’t respond because you thought you already did or you have to constantly ask if you have already told this same story before. Who would want to read the same story twice!? I apparently am not one of those people. I despise reruns. No matter how hard I try to be spontaneous, I’m doubly reminded that my own conscious choices are not actually mine. I have no control in this life. Now, most people might actually be ok with that concept, but for me, it makes every single day and waking hour a bore. To lose the ability to artfully create the life of your dreams is like being thrown into the padded room at the psychiatric ward. You’re locked in, but you can’t escape, oh and just in case you forgot... no one can hear your cries for help. There are very little options when in this space. You could have a childhood temper tantrum and display the full range of human emotion... or you could sleep.
By Charlotte Meier6 years ago in Futurism
The Nature of Love
——The inspiration for this story hit me on a trip to Delaware with my family. I was sitting in the backseat of my dad’s S.U.V., looking out the window listening to Enya. We were driving by a field, a really green field when I noticed an unusually low hanging cloud. It was the lowest I’d ever seen a cloud go and I wondered to myself why would a cloud travel this low? And, of course having a mind inclined to fantasy, I thought ‘love’.—
By Amanda Lyons6 years ago in Futurism
Now We Are Free
Viktoria released the limp body of her once formidable foe from her blood-stained fangs. She circled the dead body surveying its matted fur, grayish black and reddish now from battle. The black panther stared into her grandfather’s dead eyes; the pale yellow had succumbed to white. The muscles in her limbs tensed with each halting step. She suddenly realized what she had done.
By Amanda Lyons6 years ago in Futurism
THE SILURIAN
1: THE WONDER BOY CROWS gathered in great flocks overhead as we searched the battlefield through the dead and dying. Some of the birds landed on bodies and I slashed my sword at them, trying to send them back into the sky. I watched them scream again in their darkness before I turned to look for my brothers. All around me men were dying, their voices dying, already dead men, telling the crows they were ready to leave their bodies for the Otherworld. And as I waited for Cai and Medraut to reach me, as I watched them stepping over these dying men, I shook, and trembled.
By L.A. Wilson6 years ago in Futurism
