Fable
Toddrick's Worm-Bone Soup
"Dragon tails or Dragon tales, maybe it was Dragon nails?" Why'd it matter. He wasn't going to eat his own kind, that would be barbaric. Toddrick thumbed through the tattered soup-stained rolodex in annoyance. He had standards after all. “It has to be here,” he moaned. His mother’s famed worm-bone broth recipe had eluded him—as it should. You see, there wasn’t actually a worm to be had in the soup; besides, worms didn’t have bones, and not to mention— it appeared he had forgotten why it was called that to begin with but that was neither here nor there.
By K.H. Obergfoll3 years ago in Fiction
Those Who Discard Dragons
Tears well up in her eyes as her skin chills, the wide woods closing in. She had thought she was playing hide and seek with Mommy, just in a new place. But Mommy was never this hard to find. Signaling her defeat and calling for Mommy didn't work. She was tired, her feet were stinging, and she thought she might just die. There was nothing scarier than a world without Mommy. And she didn't even know, yet, that Mommy had left her there on purpose.
By Elisabeth Balmon3 years ago in Fiction
Shard Bound
The last embers of a lonely fire flickered in the morning breeze. Sol was still low in the sky, just barely peeking above the horizon. Even so the solar sphere illuminated the grasslands. In the morning light the owner of the campfire saw his destination far in the distance; Lucent Caverns. Legends stemming from the local villages told of a dragon and its foul minions who lived deep within the cave structure. There may have been some truth to those rumors, but Orion was headed there for a more urgent affair. Even at this range he felt the malevolence emanating from that direction; the slow pulse of something aberrant seeping its way into the world, and perverting the natural state. It was his duty as Magi to correct this imbalance.
By Vagabond Writes3 years ago in Fiction
Ouroboros. Runner-Up in Christopher Paolini's Fantasy Fiction Challenge.
1. The last thing Leander could have possibly anticipated was the burden of a human — and a human child, no less. When he left the Old Gates in search of the priestess in the valley, he only meant to bring her magic back into the Otherworld, not find a child at his feet. The deities were becoming restless and hungry, and if magic wasn’t readily available the only option would be to harvest souls. For centuries, Leander was successful in maintaining peace at the Old Gates, and he had no interest in a child imprinting on him. Especially during such a turbulent time.
By Kaitlin Oster3 years ago in Fiction
The Sigil of the Dragon. Runner-Up in Christopher Paolini's Fantasy Fiction Challenge.
The mist clung to the ground, set to disappear as soon as the sun warmed the world again. In these early hours, only the slightest stains of pink and blue streaked across the sky, though the legendary canopy of the Hornhook Forest blotted this out. These twisted branches reached for the heavens, longing to get out, but none ever did. Navigating these lands was enough to drive one mad.
By Zack Duncan3 years ago in Fiction
