Fantasy
Sedna
My family, and myself, had spent the day hunting. We’d become known in these waters by the fish as the great white hunters; we were the infamous great white sharks of the water. As much as I enjoyed my families hunting trips, there was always something I desired more. I desired the bright lights of the moon and stars. Swimming in their reflected lights was the closest I could come to heaven.
By Meredith Lawless5 years ago in Fiction
Ethical Necromancy From an Expert
So you're interested in getting into necromancy. Maybe your friend mentioned it to you at the café. Or perhaps you just saw something about it online. You might think that necromancy is all about raising armies of undead to overthrow the world, but honestly that hobby is rather passé. Really, humans are annoying enough when they're alive. A bunch of undead ones are just dull. If you really want to have some fun with necromancy, and want to be a little more ethical about it, I have a few suggestions.
By Daniel Goldman5 years ago in Fiction
The Art Barn
The Art Barn I truly didn’t know that Devin was laundering money until years later. I just figured he was doing really well at the gallery. He would come home and tell me that he had sold one of my pieces for $5,000, and I had no reason to doubt him. I thought it was because my artwork was that good.
By Chel Svendsgaard5 years ago in Fiction
Both Shade and Sun
I remember the way the air smelled that night. Like wet dirt and bonfires. The barn was in the middle of the field, surrounded by dense clusters of trees. There was a fog settling over the farm, rolling out from the woods all the way to the old rickety barn. Beneath our high top Converse, the red and gold leaves crackled, like an autumnal flame lighting our path. It felt like Mother Nature was setting the perfect scene.
By Kemari Howell5 years ago in Fiction
A Goat Called Lester
From the wonky veranda of the barn-on-wheels, a young woman with cascading blue hair sat in a rocking chair, one leg flung over the arm and the other resting lazily on the wooden stool before her, upon which also sat a travelling mug of cold pea and ham soup. A small goat with beady yellow eyes stood grazing nearby, and upon her shoulder, a tiny black kitten with tufty fur and a petrified expression clung to the folds of her hair. The small boy and girl from the neighbouring caravan, who had come to sit on the grass in front of the barn, watched in fascination as she wiggled her bare toes atop the stool and dimpled cheekily. Addressing them, she told of her daring rescue of Caspar the Cosmic Kitten from the nearby canal, and from some horrible boys who had thought it funny to subject a defenceless animal to the cold water. They had ended up in it themselves it was true, but she’d made sure they had got out again and left them spluttering and cursing girls and cats, before marching back to the campsite with the little dripping animal tucked in her bra. Agnes had helped dry and swaddle it, even fed it with the tinned milk, worry though she might about the dubious claims made on the wrapper of its superior nutritional value. Agnes whom they would meet later, as she was currently communing with nature because she found the barn stuffy and objected to the chamber pot.
By Angelica Austin5 years ago in Fiction
Omarisse
There once was a Fairie Queen who lived on a farm on the edge of the jungle. Her body was made of glitter and she moved like an apparition. A long time ago her people had been massacred–the life of a fairie extends that of another, so they are often hunted–so she lived alone.
By Elena Greco5 years ago in Fiction
Salvations' End. Top Story - July 2021.
The smell of the salty air, the sounds of waves crashing, and the warmth of the sun; that is where Pietro’s mind drifted. . His little girl Evangeline and his darling wife Sarah running back and forth in tandem with the waves. Memories of watching the sunset disappear and watching the night sky rise before returning home. A vision of a time that seemed to have occurred a lifetime ago. Looking around now all he saw was the dark clouds that never gave way to that beautiful radiant light. He shifted in his position and grimaced at the pain from his wound. He hated that incessant howling that, at first, had curdled his blood, however now just annoyed him. He glanced around in the distance and saw them moving back and forth ever so quickly and cautiously. There was no need for them to be worried as he hurled his gun into the pile of other useless wooden pieces, but they didn’t know that. He questioned all the choices he had made that had led him to this moment. To die in this dingy old barn. He sighed deeply, watching the chill materialize his breath, and began to let his mind fade.
By Luis Omar Padilla5 years ago in Fiction
