Series
A Quandary in Quarantine
Chapter Seven Luce and I had gotten back to Elsewhere pretty late the night before, so I had done nothing but fall into my bed and immediately go to sleep when we finally got home. In the morning, when my alarm went off, I got ready quickly, opting for a quick messy bun in my hair, my tinted moisturizer and a rich colored lip gloss. Then, I headed to the library a bit early. I hoped that if I could poke around a bit before everyone else got there, it would shake that feeling I’d had the last time - that I was going to get caught doing something I should not be doing.
By Erin Lorandosa day ago in Fiction
A Quandary in Quarantine
Chapter Six Watching the clock slowly tick closer to 4:00 pm made me feel like I was back in elementary school, eagerly awaiting the last bell of the day to ring. At 3:55, I gathered my things and powered down my computer. I stole a glance at Irene’s closed office door. An urge to go in overtook me, and I gave in, opening the door with my spare key. As I pushed open the door, a sudden wave of guilt passed over me. Don’t be silly, I chided myself. There was absolutely no reason I shouldn’t be in Irene’s office. Glancing over the surfaces of her desk and filing cabinet, I saw that little had been disturbed since the previous day. Again, that made sense - who else would have been in here? The police clearly had not deemed any of the papers strewn across her desk to be of interest in the case. But, as I looked them over, I saw that the genealogical research I had seen the other day was all still there. I glanced over my shoulder quickly before making the split second decision to take the papers. I needed to be able to cross reference them with the letter I had found, and I needed to do that in the privacy of my home, lest someone see what I was doing and think I was trying to cover something up. I quickly grabbed an unused manilla folder from the box on the top of Irene’s filling cabinet and hurriedly gathered the papers, jamming them in my tote bag.
By Erin Lorandosa day ago in Fiction
Stories Before a Wedding: The Dance of the Sleeping Beauties
Aurora was cursed. The word flowed from her hand like a graceful river in a painting which, naturally, she also knew how to create. Cursed. She was cursed with Beauty, cursed with Grace, cursed with Talent, cursed with Sweetness, and – most importantly according to her parents – cursed to die. Or, rather, not die. Sleep, and then be awakened by True Love’s Kiss, so she was also cursed to loneliness it would seem until her curse took hold. And then, she would be awakened and the real curse would begin.
By Dionearia Red3 days ago in Fiction
Stories Before a Wedding, or The Little Snow-White
A Royal Wedding the proclamation decreed. The Cursed Prince – now King – Artair had returned at last, and he was to be married. All across the land people rejoiced the upcoming union and rushed to the shops to buy ribbons to decorate their homes or clothing in celebration. As the Prince and his new Consort were to tour the Kingdom on their way to the capital, people lined the streets to meet him and those who travelled with him. At each town and village, the Prince – although he was no doubt tired and wished to see his aging Uncle, his noble and kind regent, as soon as possible – recounted the tale of his being cursed, the woman who had helped to free him, and his future Consort, the one known as Little Snow-White.
By Dionearia Red3 days ago in Fiction
Stories Before a Wedding, or The Happily Ever After of Cinderella. Top Story - February 2026.
Cinderella had always dreamt of marrying a prince. She had dreamt of nothing else since she was a small girl. Now, however, as the Prince’s wife of three days, she had to admit that the reality was not as she had dreamt it to be.
By Dionearia Red5 days ago in Fiction
Joseph, Doom bringer. . Content Warning.
Joseph stirred awake in a dark stone cell. He felt an eerie sense of betrayal and anguish. His memory felt hazy, and his bones ached as he moved his sore, stiff joints. He raked his mind, trying to make sense of the strange situation he’d found himself in. Why was he here? What had he done?
By Olivia Stephenson5 days ago in Fiction
TCoE: Climb
A scoff erupted from above. "You'll never make it," a man's ragged voice sneered. A twelve-year-old boy with messy dark hair and tan skin pulled his brown eyes from the parchment in his shaking hands. The sharp, resentful words cut his heart, leaving it frozen and gradually draining. The skinny lad was a bit taken aback by the stranger's harshness, but he mentally fought hard to brush it off. After a few moments, the bitter man who taunted the boy removed the hood of his cloak to reveal a scarred face. The man had wrinkly, tanned skin and long, dark hair.
By Mel E. Furnish8 days ago in Fiction
