Beware the man cloaked in black. Beware the man who roams the woods. An old hunter he once was. Hunting for the Spider. It’s fur as black as death. It’s eyes as red as blood. It’s ten legs like needles. It’s body the size of a coyote. Beware the man who never sleeps for he is now a ghost. Beware his dagger as it will still pierce flesh. Beware the hunter. Beware the Spider. Beware the woods on the darkest day. Beware…
About the Creator
Meela Ward
A crazy dragon nerd, and a huge fantasy geek with quite the imagination. She has a big passion for writing and animating.
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More stories from Meela Ward and writers in Fiction and other communities.
Life
A baby with hair like spun rays of sun, rests in her mothers arms as she rocks in her chair on the oak wood porch. A toddler with skin like silk, watches the butterfly’s flutter in the garden of flowers. A child with bright emerald eyes, chases the sly calico away from an injured blue bird. A teenager with eagerness to explore, reads in a field of wildflowers and bees. An adult with endless patience, cleans up after her messy boyfriend. A mother sits with her son in the old rocking chair on the oak wood porch.
By Meela Ward3 years ago in Fiction
Off the Book
It ended like every other stupid idea. Badly, and alone. I’m researching digital confession ethics, he said. A tech ethicist. He gestured at floating data I couldn’t see then pulled out a physical notebook. Actual paper, fountain pen. He held it up like he was showing me scripture.
By Nicky Frankly4 days ago in Fiction
The Curious case of The Temporal Anomaly.
Sherlock Holmes arrived at King’s Cross Station with precious few minutes to spare. He planned on boarding the 10:17 train to Highbury Street...but he stepped onto the curious new Platform 8.5 with a raised eyebrow. The brass placard looked freshly bolted, the numbering illogical. Even the air felt wrong - a faint scent of hot iron and sagebrush drifting where London fog should have been.
By Novel Allen7 days ago in Fiction
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