Adventure
Merekandr's Beginning
As he rounded the bend in the road, Ward breathed a sigh of relief when he noticed the flicker of lights in the distance. It had been nearly eleven hours since he had left the last imperial post, and though he knew the villages were sparser once you left the imperial highway, he had hoped for a much shorter distance between stops. It had started raining shortly after breakfast this morning, and although it hadn’t really increased in severity all day, eleven hours of foot travel in even the lightest of rain showers had still soaked his traveling cloak thoroughly, and it clung in places that made him reconsider his typically conservative vocabulary. The rain had made his walking staff slick, and gripping it had starting rubbing raw spots on his palm. He normally didn’t use a walking staff, but he had recently inherited this one from a deceased grandfather, and felt a peculiar compulsion to have it accompany him. Its newness was wearing on his hand, but he felt better for having it. From this distance, he couldn’t tell through the rain how big the town was, and what kind of lodgings awaited him. He imagined a warm-hearth, a spit of roast pork, chilled ale, and a bed with a real mattress and linen would be nice.
By Andrew LaBree5 years ago in Fiction
Foxfire
I couldn’t hear anything. Nothing. Why couldn’t I hear anything? The fire enveloped me. I couldn’t feel the flames licking my flesh from every direction, as if it could not stop itself until it reached my very core, scorching my soul. I was blinded by its light – streaks of gleaming white and pale yellows, searing my eyes. I knew I was burning, but why couldn’t I hear it. Its crackle and pop grew hungrier in the moments before the beast lowered his head and rammed his skull into my chest, sending me back into the starved flames. But now, my body the midst of its flames, it was a vacuum.
By Loretta BR5 years ago in Fiction
Ice and light
I woke up to the refreshing green light coming through the pine tree canopies. The awaited thought of being just a few miles away from the base of the mountain. A mountain that had been calling me since I first saw her in my dad’s magazines when I was 6. As my mind colored with these memories, I monotonously packed my sleeping bag, put on my pants, and headed out of the tent. I took some water and gulped in a piece of bread and jelly. My partner, immersed in his own thoughts, was moving at the same pace as me. To the point that we had packed everything, like we practiced a million times, in less than two minutes. As we looked back at the camping area, it felt like I was leaving something invisible. Unaware of it yet, I was leaving an open box containing my innocence.
By Camila Carsolio5 years ago in Fiction
The Green Flash
I rowed back across the strait from Joanne’s Island and thankfully further away from her guard bull, Henry. However, I wasn’t leaving for a better conversation. John is going to be extremely upset that I’ve been lying to him just so I could go see Joanne. Hopefully, he’ll understand.
By Chris Purdom5 years ago in Fiction
Red-Light, Green-Light
Armand looks forward to his evening in the Netherland’s infamous Red-Light District. He values the multitudes of female sex workers filling the clubs and the streets looking provocative for ready-to-play tourists. Before his play date, he enters a fetish shop, Latex et Cuir, [Latex and Leather].
By Samia Afra5 years ago in Fiction
Sliding Down from my Dreams
Life often becomes a chase, a chase that you created so you can’t escape. A chase that changes your view of the past. Of an adventure that chases you down. With curiosity pushing you into doing things that you never thought were bad.
By Camila Carsolio5 years ago in Fiction
The Rule
I tripped, fell and rolled all the way to the bottom of the hill. The hill had never seemed so tall, standing at the bottom, but falling down it seemed to last forever. The ground finally evened out and I stopped moving. I laid there for a few seconds, until I remembered why I was running.
By Kenneth Ash II5 years ago in Fiction
A Game of Tag
There was barely any movement on the interstate as Zeke sat in the backseat flipping through his comics. It was late in the evening, and except for when they would occasionally pass beneath the lights, was too dark for him to read any of the pages. He closed it and let out a sigh. His mother was in the driving seat and as usual, was grumbling about the traffic.
By Patricia L.5 years ago in Fiction
