Fable

Mister Scraw
Hot August. The sun was high and the air sultry. Tobacco already hung lazily in the sheds. Birds flitted from one fence post to the other with more energy than she thought they should have had.
By Gram Wrath4 years ago in Fiction
The Island
In a dense and snowy wood, an Owl perched itself on an old oak. The tree was unique and historic but the Owl knew nothing of this. It only mattered that this particular tree was sheltered from the wind and camouflaged by the tree’s mottled bark. Past a gnarled branch was the only break in the dense forest; a frozen oasis with a fresh ripple of a spring that thawed the corner of the ice. He sat and waited in a timeless state provided by the winter haze. He felt little purpose as his dense armor of feathers collected snow.
By Elijah B Torn4 years ago in Fiction
Albert the Owlet
Dear Diary, I've always been a very shy bird and it's hard for me to open up but since last year, when my teen-sister Alisa moved to New York City in order to pursue a career in show business, I've been inspired by her bravery.
By Irina Patterson4 years ago in Fiction
BIG RED THE FOX
BIG RED THE FOX A RHYME OR TWO JUST FOR YOU By Ladd Castle There once was a fox that lived in a box. His name was Big Red, and on rabbits he fed. Out of the box at night he would pounce, he chewed, and he ate till there was not an ounce.
By Eladio Del Castillo4 years ago in Fiction
The Hornet's Nest
The humans I live with are a married couple, both have just turned sixty, I am their dog, Sheba. I am 11 years old, a big black dog with blue eyes. I have an amazing appetite and yes you could say with certainty, I am fat. Mom calls me the gentle giant.
By Deirdre FitzGerald4 years ago in Fiction
Luck in love
Thomas and Amelia, a young deeply in love newlywed couple, were enjoying their honeymoon. A lovely cabin nestled in the woods on the side of a mountain. The isolation proved to be therapeutic. After the relentless antics of the wedding. Quiet was just what they needed. However they began to feel restless. With all the relaxation Thomas and Amelia began to feel stagnant in the cabin. The weather seemed warm and welcoming. Which was strange for the beginning of February. It’s as if the mountain was calling them to take a hike. They decided to take advantage of the superb weather. They gathered together some bread and jam to picnic at the top of the mountain. They took only a small amount of food so as to not burden themselves to much with the long hike ahead. After all that relaxation the trek seemed to be almost to much for the inept hikers. Never the less they were filled with joy to have reached the peak of the wooded mountain. They decided to lay out their table cloth and enjoy their bread and jam. They looked around taking in the breath stealing scenery. They knew they couldn’t stay long. The trek was hard enough in broad daylight, it would be near impossible for them after sunset. Their meal was simple yet filling and delicious. The sky a bright serene blue; almost marbled with thin wispy clouds. The smell of pine almost palpable. Even the cool breeze was soothing. The peace of their surroundings paired with the fullness of their bellies gave childlike comfort. Like failing asleep in a rocking chair and waking up in your bed. Only when Thomas and Amelia woke up no one had whisked them away to a bed or to safety. It was as if their peaceful fairytale surroundings had suddenly turned on them. The call of the mountain and warm inviting weather seemed to now be shrieking at them to run. Run as fast as you can from this place. The sky seemed ferocious. The beautiful marbled sky now filled with ominous blue-gray snow clouds. The smell of petrichor and frost nearly tangible. The cool soothing breeze was now a frigid blusterous force. They new they had to make it back to their cabin fast. Their panic was visible to one another. With out speaking a word they both new that each other could not recognize the way home. How could the trail have changed so much? It was as if the darkness played only a small part in changing the trail. Is it possible the trees uprooted and planted over their previous trek? The more they walked the colder it got. They began to come to terms with the fact that they where indeed lost in the woods. They strategized it was best to seek shelter from the cold. Abandoning the idea of finding their cabin before sunrise. They settled to find anything they could to break the rigorous consistent barrage of the wind and hide them from the inevitable snow. How fortuitous to find, what appeared to them to be, an abandoned barn. The brown wooden barn was considerably large. It had the potential to be an impervious shelter. Although the doors did not quite line up correctly. They had a rather large gap between them. It would still be less exsposing then standing in the middle of the woods. What caused Thomas to be hesitant to nest inside though was the “NO TRESPASSING” sign hanging sideways by one nail. Amelia, nearly frozen to the bone, would entertain none of his apprehensiveness. She was not about to pass up this serendipitous refuge. So they ignored the no trespassing signs. Betting only on no one was around and probably no one owned the busted barn any longer. What they could not tell is it had recently been broke into. It’s colossal doors broken and all it’s inhabitants stolen. As they lay exhausted, yet thankful, on the barn floor sleep crept over them. While they slumbered deeply the owner came across them. The grieving and vengeful owner of the recently plundered barn. The owner became filled with rage thinking they where the ones who robbed him. The owner was warned by his friends to keep an eye out and protect him self “because criminals often return to the scene of the crime”. He was prepared. In there deep sleep they could not hear the words the owner mumbled. Their was no way for them to know the owner spoke a man to beast spell for revenge over them. When they awoke the owner was no where to be seen. Fear gripped them to their core. Their very much human bodies where all ready beginning to turn into something very much not human at all. They looked around for an answer or a person. They thought this to be the work of another human. But they where alone. They turned to each other to discuss. Only managing to exclaim the word “Who…” while their vocal cords petrified around these syllables. Making that the only word they could ever speak again. Now they roam the woods rummaging across barns searching for “Who” had done this to them? They call out to “Who” had turn them into what would be know as the first barn owls.
By Candy Girll4 years ago in Fiction
Owl Be There For You
Welcome ladies and gentlemen of the farming community. Many know me as Gordie the barn owl. I am welcoming one and all to understand why I return to this farm every year. I hope after explaining to you that you will understand that this farm means so much to me and that is why I return to it quite often.
By Cathy Deslippe4 years ago in Fiction
Return Of the Night Owl
A route. Traveled many times in her life with her mate following close behind. Tonight, with the light of a full moon and the stars to help guild the way. The route planted firmly in her mind she flies alone. The air crisp, cool and heavy with the smells of the coming spring. She doesn't let this deter or sway her from her flight. She has caught a current headed in her direction and she lets it carry her onward. She's tired and her route seems as if it has gotten longer as she studies the ground for any movement. Eyes sharp, ears alert for any minor sound below. She has flown over the trees that has laid open fields ahead of her flight. The faithful air current now gone she restarts her flight. She hears a sound down below she turns with a flick of her tail. Flying lower, just about the tall grass she hears the sound again. She knows where it is as she ready's herself for the swope down, and with her talons she easily captures the rat. The rat dies instantly as she tears into the flesh with her sharp hooked bills. This meal will help give her the strength and refresh her energy for the journey ahead. She takes to the air and without even trying she is back on her route. The open fields soon open up to lights and sounds she has come to know well. Horns honking somewhere in the distance, sounds of crowds gather together, laughter and doors slamming. She flies on. Soon the city is behind her, and open fields lay ahead. The moon now has lowered in the night sky. It still helps guild her onward and closer to where she needs to be. There, up ahead in the distance she sees what she has been longing for. It's an old barn. Sitting out in a bare field with nothing around it for miles. It's a peaceful place but has been neglected. The red paint long gone exposing the wood to the elements. The barn leaning sideways from years of strong winds blowing. The roof nearly gone, the rust eating through the tin in places. One of the barn doors is laying on the ground outside the barn while the other door is barely hanging onto its hinge at the top. When the wind blows the door sways slightly. Years of seasons hasn't been good to the place she calls home. She flies through the open space where the door is laying on the ground and comes to rest on the dirt floor. She ruffles her feathers, shaking off her long flight and comes to a rest. She takes in the sight, the same sight she has seen many times. The times when her mate was with her. She takes a step forward, her eyes seeing and her ears hearing she takes another step. The old familiar barn with nothing left inside but the loft above. There, up there in that loft her mate beside her raising their owlets. She fly's up to the loft and lands softly as dust flies up in the air around her. Once the dust settled, she slowly walks to her old nest. Stepping into the nest she steps around making the nest more comfortable she starts to bring up pellets she adds to her nest. Satisfied with what she has done she settles in. The night moon now at the horizon slowly slipping away, the sky turning blue she glances around her home once more. The time has come for her as she closes her eyes. You see, this is the story of a barn owl that was lucky enough to make it to old age. She passed away in the early morning hours just before she was able to think of her life.
By Vicky Ashley4 years ago in Fiction
The Howl In The Woods
It was a quiet night, not unlike most nights. The wind flowed through the branches of the looming trees, frogs croaked down in the creek bed, and crickets chirped a lullaby to lull those who listen asleep. I laid in bed listening to the sounds of the night, my eyes grew heavy as I began my decent into sleep. A faint sound that I have never heard came from outside my home. My eyes shot open, no longer being weighed down by sleep. I sat up and looked toward the window in my room. My room had a few cloths on the floor, a nightstand right next to me, and a window to the far left wall, with a desk and a chair on the windows right. I gazed out of the window, wondering what caused the irregular noise. The moon shined down onto the front of the house, the tree line was void of anything that could have made the noise. I almost thought I was just hearing things, until I heard a more audible sound. A howl cut through the night. This time I knew I wasn't hearing anything. Curiosity got the better of me, and I decided to get out of my bed and investigate the sound. I put on a jacket, a pair of boots, a lantern, and a lighter. I walked downstairs, through the kitchen, and out the door. The sound of the gravel beneath my boots, caused all noise in the air to disperse. Before I lit my lantern, I looked up at the black sky, littered with stars shinning as bright as the moon. I lit my lantern and continued down the gravel path. I walked for a couple minutes, listening out for the howl. I reached the gate at the end of the path, opening it, and continued into the woods. The gravel path made a smooth transition into dirt, allowing the sounds of the woods to return, even louder than before. It felt as if the very forest itself was alive. Another howl, sounding much closer, shot through the air along with the whistling of the wind. I turned toward the howl, and walked off the trail. I was determined to find whatever was howling in the woods. I walked through the forest, stepping over fallen over trees and brush. A sound came from behind, I spun around and looked up into the trees. A barn owl sat upon a branch, cooing as it turned its head in curiosity. I unknowingly mimicked the bird. The birds head returned upright, as well as lifting its wings before taking off. As it began to fly, another howl came from deeper into the woods. The barn owl followed the noise, and I followed suit. I began to pick up pace to keep up with the owl, feeling as if the bird was connected to the howling. I continued to run until ran into a clearing. Bioluminescent mushrooms littered the area, some of which were bigger than normal. A boulder covered with moss colored a pinkish blue, sat in the middle of the clearing. What sat on top of the boulder though, was truly a sight to see. A wolf with speckled fur that shined just as bright as the stars. With turquoise eyes, and horns like like an elk, the shined slightly less than its fur. Small leafy fines were strung across the horns of the wolf. The barn owl from earlier flew above the wolf, landing on a looming willow tree above the moss covered boulder. I looked at the wolf, I felt connected to it. The wolf and I met eyes, and I felt as if it was looking into my soul. After a couple seconds of the wolf looking down at me, it turned to the sky, and my eyes looked up to the sky as well. The moon was above the clearing, causing all of the mushrooms to glow brighter. Lights from the mushrooms floated out and landed on the ground, growing more, smaller mushrooms. The clearing became brighter with every new mushroom. It felt as if it was a dream, but with every light that brushed passed my arm or leg, reminded me that it wasn't. The wolf howled into the night sky. With a final glimpse at the majestic creature, my vision became blurry, and I closed my eyes. Birds chirped as rays of golden light shined in through my window. The rays of light shined in my eyes, waking me up. I sat up, tired as if I had been asleep for the entire night. I checked the clock across the room, it read 9:00 AM. The memory of the night before began rushing back, I got out of bed and starting running back out into the woods. I just had to confirm that what happened last night wasn't a dream. I ran and ran until I made it into the clearing. Mushrooms littered the area, but none of them glowed. A boulder was in the center of the clearing, however the moss was green in color. I stood their baffled at the discovery, until I heard a coo from a nearby tree. I looked up into the tree, and a barn owl sat on one of it's branches. It tilted it's head in curiosity. Unknowingly, a smile grew on my face, finally knowing that the night before, and the howling in the woods, wasn't a dream.
By Jordan4 years ago in Fiction
Mountain of Destiny
Legend has it that “The Excalibur” has been protected by an ancient owl, a barn owl at that. It is said to be 30,000 years old. Thousands have sought after the sword for many ages. Many have challenged this myth with hopes to obtain the saber, but no one has returned. The Excalibur is located in the mysterious Mountain of Destiny, where the sun never shines, and the clouds never rain. The totality of darkness and weather conditions alone has scared off many to even dare challenge the legend. But could it really be that hard to defeat a barn owl? My name is Yogen which means “Child of Prophecy” I am from the Catawba Clan. The Elders of the tribe have constantly warned the villagers to stay away from the mountain, unless they too wanted to perish. Obtaining The Excalibur has been a dream of mine since I was a child. I was often teased and mocked for even thinking that it was attainable for me, but my faith never waivered. Time after time I watched the toughest of men go to the Mountain of Destiny. I’ve also watched their families grieve because they never made it back to the village. But still the sword was calling me, and it was my time to prove exactly who I was. I had to claim what was mine!
By Edwin White Jr4 years ago in Fiction
Bluebells. Runner-Up in Return of the Night Owl Challenge.
1 ‘I went over this on the phone.’ ‘I just want to confirm the details.’ Mark pinches the bridge of his nose. ‘Olive skin. Dark brown hair. She’s… I don’t know, average build, I suppose. Just over four foot tall. She’s tall for her age.’
By Ellie Scott4 years ago in Fiction
Tar River
There is a land where Mountain Sprites live and play. They are very magical and proud beings who live on top of this enchanted lush green mountain called Mount Morris. Other sprites live in other parts of the land, but the Mountain Sprites only have vague references in their oldest lore to such other sprite existence.
By Beth Fisher4 years ago in Fiction