David Angell
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Stories (8)
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The Fate of Priora
There weren't always dragons in the valley. Thoughts of magical beasts and heroic figures had long been the fancies of the young, but the world had tasted war, and the once quiet and peaceful valley had become a battlefield for heroes to rise. Time had passed since the flight of the last dragon, the physical scars had healed, but the insidious venom of the dragon’s fall seeped through the veins of the kingdom of Antia, flushing its golden blood and replacing it with the fetid ichor of starvation and greed. Were there still heroes to fight the phantoms and fairies that infected the land or had all the heroes succumb to the seductive lure of conquest? A changing wind filled the trees and fields, but what change would it bring, only the Weaver could say.
By David Angell4 years ago in Fiction
Frozen Chaos
Frozen chaos. It was the only way the detective could describe the scene before him. Turned chairs, torn wallpaper, and shattered pieces of stone and ceramic scattered across the floor like an intricate jigsaw puzzle painted the picture but remained as silent as the body lying amongst them. The detective slowly stepped through the room, taking deep care to avoid disturbing any part of the grim scene, and let his eyes scan methodically over every corner. Books strewn about, a fire poker, papers with bizarre drawings scrawled across them in hard pressed pencil, a small decorative pill box next to an overturned glass of wine pooling its dark red contents around a cracked tablet; these were just a portion of the tools the detective had to work with. As he approached the body lying face down on the white carpet with a halo of blood staining the fibers around it, the detective crouched to get a better look at the man whose poor fate marked the centerpiece of this macabre scene.
By David Angell4 years ago in Fiction
The Last Word
Jack watched the traffic fly by in a blur while his thoughts matched pace. What could tomorrow possibly bring that has not already been ruined by today? Where does one go when they have lost everything? Is jumping into this raging river of steel and glass the best way forward? He stood transfixed and frozen by his nihilistic debate.
By David Angell4 years ago in Fiction
Esperanza: A tale from the Blue Books
“We have been having these little talks for six months now, and I feel like we have gotten nowhere,” Gabriel calmly chided with a tired and frustrated grin. “You said you have a story to tell, but you just haven’t shared it. Don’t you trust me?”
By David Angell4 years ago in Fiction
A Pear Tree in Autumn
I think I was getting close to the end of my rope when I found that postcard. My gallery was on the verge of bankruptcy, I had just been dumped, and my favorite coffee shop had closed due to one too many botched health inspections. I wasn’t even certain I would make it through the week, so I was pretty surprised that something as small and insignificant as a postcard was able to change my life.
By David Angell4 years ago in Fiction
Uncanny Valley
It is amazing, no matter how hard you try, nothing remains the same. We live our lives chasing the intoxicating feelings of nostalgia, never fully accepting that it is impossible to recapture that same exact feeling from our memories. We journal, take pictures, record every moment we can on our phones and social media, desperately trying to enshrine those moments of the past, all the while the world around us keeps flowing. Maybe it is the memories of those moments that are important rather than the experience itself. Then again, those experiences are pretty nice.
By David Angell4 years ago in Fiction
Dryad
The day was as any other for John: the smell of coffee being brewed wakes him from his sleep, slippers and a housecoat, shuffle into the kitchen for a cup and some cereal, catch up on the days news, then back to the bedroom to slip on some pants and a shirt before shuffling into the office to work. Same routine, same step by step. John was so used to the routine, not even the perpetual fog that permeated throughout the world around him could slow him down.
By David Angell4 years ago in Fiction
The Monster in the Maze
The monster has surfaced. Its guttural growl and scream echoes through the cavernous stone forest that is my home. I have been told by those who found their way into this realm that a vicious creature exists in the dark corridors, only now have I heard its hunting cry. Throughout my harsh and unfriendly life, I have never felt terror until this day.
By David Angell5 years ago in Fiction
