Adventure
Castle McDermott
A shrill cry echoes in the night. Candlelight illuminates Freya's face from across the room. Looking into my sister’s wide eyes, I know she heard it too. I hear shuffling from somewhere inside the cottage, footsteps on the floor, light moving its way closer to the door frame.
By Kelsey Kidder4 years ago in Fiction
Wings on Fire
Texas, Spring 1870 The smell is what awoke him. He opened his eyes, peeled back the sheets and went to the window. His eyes widened, reflecting the orange glow coming from outside. Before going out there and greeting the flames, Archie figured bringing his shotgun with him was a good idea. Once close up to the blaze, he realized just how unbearable the smell really was. He headed back inside, grabbed an old shirt and fashioned it into a balaclava. With breathing being a less strenuous task, Archie had the wherewithal to inspect the burning stable. He poked the bits of flaming wood with the barrel of his shotgun. He managed to flip one of the beams over to reveal what laid underneath. Bone. The burning flesh that still clung on was causing the smell. That's why, Archie mused, he recognized the scent. Another beam was overturned and out came the owl. It's wings ablaze as they stretched out and soared the bird into the night sky. Archie jumped back and watched as a trail of glowing feathers slowly rode the air. He shook off the peculiar sight and looked back to the stable. They're all dead then, Archie figured. All he could do now was wait for the fire to die down. So, that's what he did. He dragged a wooden, rocking chair from the porch. He sat and watched as the flames grew dimmer and the sun grew brighter. Morning came and brought with it, clarity. A single trail of hoof prints in the sand lead away from the charred rubble of the stable. One horse. One man. They rode up to the stable, torched it, maybe stayed for a while to watch the show, before riding back off into the night. Who? Archie asked himself. He may not have known who was responsible, but he did know who could help him find out.
By Joshua Nicholson4 years ago in Fiction
All About Perspective
There was a general sense of terror permeating throughout the group. They knew what was outside. Which is why they chose to stay inside. Where it was safe. As soon as the sun kissed the horizon and the air dropped its warmth, everything was dangerous.
By Curtis Sharp4 years ago in Fiction
Written in Stone
She had promised she would never do it again. But the allure was stronger than her resolve. The moment of unearthing another part of a story, of finding another puzzle piece, was intoxicating. It was addicting. The hours spent under the unforgiving Italian sun were worth every bead, every tile, every scrap of a memory that belonged to a long-forgotten past.
By Cameron Sheppard4 years ago in Fiction
The People of Eden
Eden was advertised as a “family-friendly” nudist park, which seemed a bit oxymoronic to me. Then again, the highways leading to the park were littered with billboards urging us to repent and visit JesusIsAlive.com, followed by signs commanding us to EXIT NOW FOR LION’S DEN ADULT SUPERSTORE. I wondered what the clientele looked like in these puritan towns. Maybe you could buy anal beads that doubled as a rosary.
By Cameron Sheppard4 years ago in Fiction
The Return of the Defenders
It was getting late. Though the sky displayed a myriad of colour, with the growing shadows came a sense of foreboding. A nervous hush fell upon the forest, the only movement coming from the wind blowing through the leaves, and the day-dwellers scurrying for sanctuary. It had been this way for as long as Gaeryll could remember.
By J.C. Winter4 years ago in Fiction
Forest Fire
"Massive wildfires are spreading from unknown epicenters all throughout the Western United States-" Jason Hoot, a member of a group of superheroes that operate within the United States, shoots up from his lounging position when he hears this from his little emergency radio. It's currently dangling hooked from his belt. He unhooks the little radion from his belt and brings it right up to his right ear.
By Tyler C Douglas4 years ago in Fiction
The People of Eden
Eden was advertised as a “family-friendly” nudist park, which seemed a bit oxymoronic to me. Then again, the highways leading to the park were littered with billboards urging us to repent and visit JesusIsAlive.com, followed by signs commanding us to EXIT NOW FOR LION’S DEN ADULT SUPERSTORE. I wondered what the clientele looked like in these puritan towns. Maybe you could buy anal beads that doubled as a rosary.
By Cameron Sheppard4 years ago in Fiction
The Center Stone. Runner-Up in Return of the Night Owl Challenge.
North wind wanders along the overgrown trail, where barren branches reach outward and skyward and sway along with wind's song. Leaves rustle softly against one another as the wind sweeps them gently along the ground, spreading the colorful quilt the trees have grown to cover their roots during the cold season. The colors have faded now; among the remaining reds and golds lie many shades of brown. The leaves have settled on the soil to continue their cycle -- to become earth once again. The sweet smell of autumn still lingers on the air. Shadows stretch on the forest floor. The woods are at rest.
By Forest Pritchard4 years ago in Fiction
Serenity Among the Leaves
It was Lina Clover’s favorite season of the year again, Spring! She always disliked the sharp cold of winter as it slowly sneaked in to ruin all of the outdoors time. She loved it more than any television series, or all the “indoor” activities the other thirteen and a half year old teenage girls at school do in their spare time. Growing up in northern California, Lina was cursed with not only warm springs and summers, but frigidly cold winters as well. She did not look forward to the leaves changing, or having snowball fights with her brother Paul. He did not hold back when it came to his chubby left pitching arm. He was so proud of it too, and constantly showed it off by curling up his T-shirt sleeve to flex its pale, flabby, hairless bicep . Then ending it all with a wet kiss at the summit of his shapeless muscle. Lina took solace in the birth of spring. She absorbed all the colors that every blossom and flower pedal produced when in bloom. The energy outside gave her a welcoming sensation to the world in which there’s so little.The bees gliding from plant to plant pollinating the wonders of the Earth while enjoying the returned sweet gifts of nectar as they work day in and day out. Lina would attempt to get as close as possible to them with her disposable cameras that she used to capture all the beauty that is the simple life of a bumble bee. She loves taking pictures, but being her age, her parents did not think she was ready for a cell phone just yet. Lina didn’t care too much about it though. In fact, she actually liked the disposable cameras, because there was more to it than just point-click-look-delete, it was a process in itself. She liked the challenge of having to maneuver her body every which way in order to get the angle she desired. She had little lighting tricks she used with aluminum foil, and had to practice patience and determination to get close enough to her subjects considering the fact that the disposable cameras don’t have a zoom function on them. After a camera was full, she would give it to either her mom, or her dad to drop off in town for development. The excitement of receiving the photographs days later was a mood lifter for Lina, especially days when she wasn’t feeling well. She would go through each one of them describing her experiences in detail with her parents, and sometimes Paul would join in as long as he knew he got to star in one of the photos as well. Usually ones of him making an obscure facial expression, or attempting to be “clever” once in his life. Sometimes if the whole family agreed as a group that a photograph was “frame-worthy” they would have the picture blown up in size then take Lina to the art shop to pick out a frame that really spoke to her. The house had some of her best work on display throughout the hallway, and in their living room. Her favorite is a close up of a decaying log she found in the woods behind their house. It was laying on its side with bright-green moss flowing all around it. She had to be more proud of that photograph than her parents were. Photography was not as much of a hobby to her, but more of a tool to capture her true passion, nature.
By Zachary Marshall Ivey4 years ago in Fiction
