Fantasy
Sad Flora
Flora ran out of the house into the back yard and quickly headed to her favourite place, her tree house. Tears streaming down her face, she climbed the rungs nailed into the tree and crawled through the doorway and sat on a cushion. This day had not turned out the way she expected.
By Conny van Balen5 years ago in Fiction
Grendel Park
The streets were quiet tonight, the only sound, Sahara’s footsteps against the cracked pavement. It was not the peaceful stillness of a warm summer evening, nor the blanketed silence of a frosty winter day- but rather the ominous hush that only presents itself prior to a storm. Yet, a glance at the sky revealed no clouds and there was not so much as a breeze to carry the incoming scent of rain. And still, Sahara rubbed her arms as if to ward off the anticipated chill as she continued along the dimly lit side streets, careful to avoid pockets of complete darkness. You never knew what lie hidden in the shadows, the reek of sulfur and the coppery tang of blood more than enough to push people into the perceived safety of the light. Sahara did not consider herself an exception.
By Jasmyn Kline5 years ago in Fiction
Necklace of Memories (3)
The booth was situated on the town side of the river, and a hammered metal sign was nailed into the brickwork on the farside. It stated ‘Manned by Troll Bridge Guardian from dusk til dawn. By the order of Lord Lennox, 901 AD.’ Lord Lennox’s sigil of a blue dolphin was stamped at the bottom of the sign. Approaching the bridge was a coach pulled by bulls with three crew on the coach, two upfront, one at the back. A crest of two picks crossed over three rocks was painted on the carriage doors. Behind the coach were six men, obviously slaves, carrying a shroud clad figure on their shoulders. They shivered as they jogged through the light snow flurry. A raven screamed as it flew high above the coach and descended into the town, its silver band on its leg glinting in the half moonlight.
By Ian Hambly5 years ago in Fiction
Errand
It wasn’t the voices that had waken me, I’d gotten used to those. It was the thumping of heavy boots. By the time I rushed downstairs, the paramedics were already lifting Ms. Alliston carefully from the floor. They used a handled sling to cradle her, and she practically disappeared into the quilted fabric of her dressing gown. “What happened?”
By Timber Holmes5 years ago in Fiction
The Queen Is Here
The last time I had seen her was when I was maybe fifteen years old. I moved quickly to hive her a huge bear hug. "You certainly have grown," she said through a teary smile. When we let the hug stop, the room started spinning. "Uh, what is happening. . ." I trailed off as I began to plummet. I could only wait for the . . . Why did I not hit the floor? Huh? My strength halted this time but my vision settled enough to see a few feet in front on me. David? Why was he carrying me and more importantly WHERE?! I thought I had only blinked. When I woke up again, everyone was gone but a beautiful turquoise dress. Form fitting that was slit-slanted and floor length. This time when I got out of bed, I felt wonderful. I changed my clothes then proceeded to walk out of the room in search of my mom. I eventually found her in the maze of halls. She was in the doorway to the ballroom. I knew it was the ballroom because of the glowing pink letters that were floating mid-air. "Oh my galaxies! That looks beyond gorgeous on you. I have something for you. . . " she handed me a masquerade mask, "I hope you enjoy your time tonight." She had this knowing grin that sent a small shiver down my spine. Was I still feeling Christine's side effects? I figured the only way to find out was to play along. I carefully placed the mask on and entered the room.
By Cody Kennedy5 years ago in Fiction
Young Od
He was small of stature but had enormous heart, as aspiring heroes did in days of King Ransom. The redhead, near 3.33 ell, leaned head-to-head with his 14 hand dun outside a towering white, reconstructed barn crowning the mountain valley. Nearby, a meandering stream sang its lazy tune and all might have been well, considering he had driven Granny to the wedding of a King. However, downward from Od and the Norse horse he’d named Sollys, “Bright Sun,” fanned wagon after wagon of nervous, breast-collared draft horses, anxious to be free of harness. On a good day, they might have objected to standing in wait a mere stride from budding snacks, cool waters and shade. This day, what they felt developing down valley, would soon head their direction. Such knowledge would have rattled Od’s harness, had he, too, been shackled.
By Barbara Steinhauser 5 years ago in Fiction
Fragile
Lucan sat patiently while Sophia tried to make sense of what had just happened. He could see the cogs of her mind churning in overdrive, chaotic thoughts fighting against each other for some semblance of order. Her lips parted at regular intervals as if speaking unpronounced words. He placed his hands over her trembling ones and reminded himself to be gentle. The human mind was a fragile thing, a fracture in the wrong place, at the wrong time could shatter even the strongest of souls.
By sylvana lee-jones5 years ago in Fiction
