Fable
Tar River
There is a land where Mountain Sprites live and play. They are very magical and proud beings who live on top of an 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
Pebbles' Playland
Once upon a time, there lived a very cute, very loveable little dog. Her name was Pebbles. She was the cutest little dog in the whole kingdom. Everyone loved Pebbles, for she was so nice and so kind to all. Animals from all over the kingdom would travel from far just to come to play with Pebbles and her new toys. She was so loved and she so loved everyone, that after a long day of playing she would give everyone she played with a new toy. After so much playing Pebbles always had to clean up the big mess that would be left behind by all of her kingdom friends. No one ever stayed to help her clean and that would make Pebbles very sad. She thought that because everyone loved her and because she always gave everyone a toy that they would stay behind and help her clean too. But no one ever did. Of course, this didn’t stop Pebbles from treating everyone with love and kindness. “No matter what, they are all still my friends.” Pebbles says with so much joy. One morning when it was time for Pebbles to awaken from a long night’s rest, she heard knocking, she stretched all of her little tiny limbs and ran down to answer the door. “I wonder who it could be this early in the morning?” Pebbles asked herself. As she pulled open her front door, she poked her little head out with a big smile. “Good morning, how can I help you?” Pebbles asked happily. And there in front of her was someone new, someone, she had never seen before. It was another small dog. “Hi, I’m Daisy, I’m your new neighbor from one kingdom down.” She grinned. Pebbles stared at Daisy for a few seconds, then smiled and reached out a paw, “lovely to meet you, my name is Pebbles, welcome to my enchanted kingdom.” Pebbles replied. “Would you like to come in? It’s a little early, not quite time for all my guests to arrive but you are welcome to join me for breakfast if you like.” Daisy looked at Pebbles as she walked past her to enter her very beautiful home. Pebbles closed the door and walked past Daisy to lead the way to the kitchen. As she passed, she noticed Daisy looking at her up and down and not in a very nice way at all. But as we know Pebbles is a very kind dog, so she just continued to walk and talk. She explained to Daisy how she has all of her friends from all over the kingdom to come play with her and her toys every day. Daisy watched and listened as Pebbles went on and on about all of her good deeds and how much everyone loves her. As Pebbles continued talking, Daisy started to not like Pebbles more and more. “I think I better be leaving now!” Daisy shouted over Pebbles while she spoke. “Leave? Why you will not be attending my gathering today?” Pebbles asked with such concern. Daisy told Pebbles that she had to take care of her very sick mom and that is why she couldn’t stay. Pebbles walked Daisy to the door and out the gate and told her to have a very lovely day. “Well, she was very nice.” Pebbles told herself. Pebbles hurried back up into her house and continued to get everything ready for all of her friends.
By VANESSA MARTINEZ4 years ago in Fiction
A Boy and His Familiar
His mother and father were murdered by the hands of the mortals when he was very young. He had no pictures of them, just a few sketches his older sister had drawn from memory to stop him from crying so much at night. As his age and grief grew older, his sister would tell him stories of their late parents during morning walks along the misty cyan lakes and dying lavender fields.
By Fiona Nneka4 years ago in Fiction
Sunday Mass
The still peace of the warm Sunday morning was abruptly disturbed as a little girl ran as fast as her legs could carry her down the street. Of course, being Sunday, no one was out on the streets or in their shops. Rather, the majority of the town, save for some degenerate drunks and other unsaintly characters, were all at morning mass.
By Seth Corry4 years ago in Fiction
Jars Of Talents
A large disfigured oak tree stood at a strange slant just outside Julia's hidden shack. The shack was black and bore a musty smell. It smelled of moss and filled your mouth with a sour, bitter taste. It had the potential to be beautiful but felt sad with overgrown vines and tall weeds all around it. Julia allowed it to look unpleasant to discourage people from snooping. She, of course, lived in The Spanish-style house with wooden shutters down the road with the friendly neighbors who fetched her newspaper every morning. But when the night fell, Julia often snuck away to her little shack, where she put on colorful cardigans and danced around with freshly brewed coffee.
By Thalia Bello4 years ago in Fiction
The Edge of the Wood
A note from the author. This piece of fiction is an exercise in non-gendered writing in relation to a single character. The child who the author wanted to portray as undefined in gender is referred to as They/Them. This was a very fun exercise as it proved challenging to re-structure sentences with more than one subject and in doing so to clearly identify whom is being spoken of in each phrase, or to have a sentence convey that a single person was being spoken of while using the They/Them pronoun.
By 01100101-01110111-011001014 years ago in Fiction
The Life of a Barn Owl
Once upon a time, a Barn Owl passed, but before it passed. The life of this owl was difficult, but also fascinating. It started with an egg 1.5 inches long and 1.3 inches wide in. With a mother that always protected him and sang to him every night. Before it went off to sleep.
By Anthony Allen4 years ago in Fiction
Two Eyes with Wings
Fresh snow erases the ugliness of winter, without a collection of flakes and without leaves, something is missing from the cold. The trees resemble roots, as if someone took them and turned each one upside down for the season, except the coniferous ones, those have a point to make. I have a point to get to; we all do.
By Whitney Carman4 years ago in Fiction
The Lonely Book
The Lonely Book Once upon a time there was a book on a shelf in a house where a man and woman lived who didn’t ever read. And the book was lonely. So one morning when the man and woman were away from the house, the book slid off the shelf and flapped its front and back covers like a bird it had read about in its pages. But the book, it turned out, couldn’t fly. So, using its front and back covers like legs, the book jumped from a chair to a table to a windowsill, then out an open window.
By Richard Naviasky4 years ago in Fiction
