fantasy
Celebrating the fantastical. Let your imagination run wild.
The Siren Songs
When I heard that my name had been turned into a legend I was shocked but not surprised. There is an element of truth in every story, even when it sounds like a Greek myth. I’d heard strange bits of conversation throughout the whole day, disjointed fragments of descriptions, but they were all about me. I didn’t think much of them in the moment. Only when I was safely away from any human contact did these conversations rise back up in my mind, not unlike layers of muck at the bottom of a lake when your foot stamps down.
By Bobe Hadjieva6 years ago in Futurism
The Orphans
1)Their World as They Knew It (Tick) Grandeur City was the center of The Civilization. This city was not only the political and cultural center but also, more importantly, the industrial center. Over a hundred and fifty years ago it was nothing but another city state among all the other city states on the North Continent. What changed do you ask? Well quite frankly it was clockwork.
By Scott Hawver6 years ago in Futurism
Memoire de Rayloria (Rayloria's Memory)
Celebrating 10 years of a series that started with a series of vlogs. These vlogs, in turn, spawned an animation series. Both promoted the novel series that has now been picked up by Jones Graphics with the help of E&E Entertainment and DJ ButterRock.
By Othello Gooden Jr.6 years ago in Futurism
Samurai Androids: Firmware Upgrade
The old suburb was quiet as the sun set; the sky a watercolor palette of oranges and reds bleeding together. The area had once been a full of life, but now only the mournful houses and rusting cars were witness to the slow decay. And they watched wordlessly, their silence a pouting condemnation of the afterlife to which they had been doomed.
By Made in DNA6 years ago in Futurism
The Unspoken Language
The days bound in ash and sweat, braced with fear and revulsion. I feel the pressure braided, like rope and knots, caught in my throat. Fell creatures of night, men, and the shudder of their touch on my skin has become poison. Sjana paced the landscape outside of her bedroom window, scanning every inch with her sage colored eyes. In her lap, a notebook, on which a white fountain pen scribbled unconsciously. She wouldn’t let herself think, nor would she listen to the pounding in her mind. The memories she had left behind, locked far away.
By Treharne O'Grady6 years ago in Futurism
