Fantasy

Propagated Cracks
She opened her eyes with a start, with a pounding headache and stinging pain from her forehead, lying prostrate in the dust.
By Alex Gerwe5 years ago in Fiction
SS Inglefield
He couldn’t remember the first time he’d ever seen his mother’s necklace. He couldn’t remember if it was in the before or the after, but why did that matter? It was his favourite thing about his mother, however unfair that was. Her necklace was simple, a heart-shaped locket, with intricate swirling patterns traced finely into the metal. He could stare at it for hours, holding it gently between grubby fingers, afraid of his own filth contaminating the jewellery. His mother would always come back to get it, running long fingers through his ebony hair, sighing at his fascination. She didn’t quite understand.
By Heather F5 years ago in Fiction
Glaedreon
A mother's tears are shed from the heart. When the extension of the astral plane bore nothing but emptiness, cold and dark, it brought a somber weight on her heart. The translucent tears that fell from her cheeks, sparkled and glittered like a thousand diamonds. Each drop fell to her feet, sprinkling along the plane like a million budding flowers. The darkness is really so lonely, so desolate. But to the mother's surprise, a cry above her own reverberated through the darkness. From her tears, life was born.
By Danica Bodley5 years ago in Fiction
Lost Locket Of Eden
Lost Locket of Eden Unwillingly I said goodbye to him as he rushed out the door again, my intuition reminding me yet again that I was only being used as a stepping stone, a means to an end. I know he will never love me the way I love him, but during this nightmare amongst us those who are remaining cling to any bit of love, friendship or vice that keeps us just that little bit sane while feeding us hope at the same time. Even the strongest are hanging on by a thread. There are not many of us left here in my home town, having connection is difficult as it feels like we are all in a race against time with each other. I've stopped keeping track of what level I am on now. It was a couple months ago when i unlocked my first set of abilities, I keep that information to myself till I completely understand how I am supposed to be using them and why. Another factor is if your doing well and having successful missions and wins it makes you an easy target around here.
By Alyssa Sullivan5 years ago in Fiction
Warden Gordon and the Angel in the Woods
Gryff Gordon, at 29 years of age, had nearly 20 years’ experience working in one park or another. Growing up as a child in a village called Chesterton-Burnleigh on the South Downs, he’d been a Cub and then a Scout, and as a little boy he’d started on walks with him, volunteering picking litter in the parks or on the beaches and taking it as seriously as a little boy could.
By Johannes T. Evans5 years ago in Fiction
Sapphire Still
The first Freeze (F1) took place in the morning hours of Wed. May 21st (the first Freeze I know about, I mean). K* pulled that one off himself, and from what I’ve pieced together in the months leading up to F3, it went something like this:
By Daniel Hammer5 years ago in Fiction
The End of the World As We Know It Will Be Fine
Harry McDermott P O Box 8361 Fayetteville, AR 72703-0007 479-444-7853 [email protected] © 2021 1341 words THE END OF THE WORLD AS WE KNOW IT WILL BE FINE
By Harry E McDermott5 years ago in Fiction
The Beacon
The Watchman A lone figure approaches from the east. Sam spots him first. A Freeman from the eastern tribes, no doubt. Come begging for food, most likely. Sam hates being posted out on the cold, harsh frontier, beyond the Kingdom’s borders, guarding the Pyre Hill Beacon. Technically he was guarding Pyre Hill Camp, the small military outpost at the base of Pyre Hill. The beacon was a large unlit bonfire, right at the summit of the Hill. If lit, it would be visible for miles around, warning of the coming of the Enemy. But it has been nearly 50 years since the last reported sighting of any Enemy, and Sam doubts if they really ever existed at all. All Sam has ever seen out here were uncivilised Freemen. And it was cold. Sam hates the cold.
By Dan Jones5 years ago in Fiction
Marla Medizza and the Miopsa mirror. Chapters eighteen and nineteen.
Chapter eighteen A step too far.
By Peter Culbert5 years ago in Fiction
Apocalypse
The inspiration of this story came from this song. Listen to it while you read. :) March 24th, 2022 A lone crescent moon filled the nighttime sky. The chilling sound of Growlers seemed to fill the air surrounding us as we camped out inside a shuttered, abandoned two-story house.
By Chloe Rose Violet 🌹5 years ago in Fiction
Temptest
Clouds darkened in the sky, to any appearances constructing themselves for a storm. Particularly cruel: the sort of storm Mother Nature would brew when ire. A heavy rain cried from the ruinous clouds, crashing to the ground not undifferentiated from hot tears. These were Mother Nature's tears for the slaughter of innocent souls by ghastly creatures corrupted by sin. This type of storm sent stagnation to the region; incense whose smell you could not escape, even if the soil were to fully engorge and dissolve it. It flowed and corrupted the citizen's slants, infecting the area like an unavoidable illness. The heat of the rain was the water's disguise, the kind of rain little children did not wish to dance and splash in. The kind of rain that makes people stay indoors. The kind of rain that makes everything in the world somber.
By Luna Phillips5 years ago in Fiction
The Arrival of the Red-Haired Girl
The Arrival of the Red-Haired Girl Seth swung his axe downward with a mighty thrust, cleaving the log in two. It was early morning. A fresh snowfall laid silent on the forest floor and in the frosted pines around him. He stopped to catch his visible breath and take in the view of the great valley below. All the world seemed still. Peaceful.
By Joseph Knob5 years ago in Fiction