Fantasy
Carnival Godmothers
Sirena She wanted her hair to be green. She knew from the start that that’s what she wanted out of the life that had been planned for her, but not the plan her mother wanted to see. She wanted it to be green especially in her baths, when her long hair floated and it was not a strain on her little neck. The frizz of her hair did not exist there, the hard brush strokes of Nana were not possible then, her hair was wild thing, a blob of mass like a jellyfish lazily floating towards the surface. She wanted it green like the mermaids, so that she could blend in to the reeds that she saw at the bottom of the tiny river near la iglesia that used to be used for baptisms, like in the days of the Jordan. She wanted the fishies to wriggle through it, think it an anemone and raise their babies there. She wanted the sun to be a dancing light that was wavy every time she moved. She wanted the water lilies to be her bouquet when she decided to marry her new life. She wanted to swim rather than run. She asked and asked and asked for the color of the lily pads, of the grass, of the trees, of the algae, to be the color that defines her head and identity. She wanted the little straight hair she had to look like the stalks that hold flowers up and her big curls to be something people admired when the sunlight turned them to a forest.
By Ariana GonBon5 years ago in Fiction
A Vampire's Life - Part 2
5 July, 1602 He hadn't seen the punch coming, but he certainly saw the stars exploding on the insides of his eyelids after it connected. One good hit was all it had taken to down the thirteen-year-old, and he'd dropped like a sack of rocks. Dazed, he groaned in pain, trying to roll over so he could get up off the wet wood of the shipyard's dock. Yet, even as he did, another burst of pain came to him as one of the older boys kicked him in the stomach. He dropped onto his side and curled, dry-heaving from the pain.
By Bastian Falkenrath5 years ago in Fiction
Seven Strangers
Marjory stood against a set of large steel doors; her hands were clasped daintily at her waist. She was in a corridor of sorts with two large, rusted steel doors in front of her, held closed by a chain. The two behind her were more polished and required a key card for entry. Her eyes were closed and though her body was in that damp corridor, her mind was sunbathing on a remote island. A gorgeous, shirtless native was just about to hand her a drink when a cacophony of voices and growls brought her back to reality. When her eyes opened there were six people close enough to her face to tell she’d skipped her last facial screaming and pleading for her to let them in. They were all angry, but one voice stood out among the rest. Probably because it was an 11-year-old girl hurling profanities at her like she was born to it.
By Jerica Floyd5 years ago in Fiction
Children of the Sun
Children of the Sun By: Shannon K. O’Brien & Cari D. Missan I don’t think I can run anymore, even though all of our lives depend on making it out of this cave. I trip, but Lucian’s hand whips out, grasping my arm and wrenching me to my feet before I can fall face first onto the unforgiving, jagged stone ground.
By Shannon O'Brien5 years ago in Fiction
Elysium
If you have ever experienced a moonless night, so quiet that aside from the hum of a steady wind you could almost hear the earth in rotation, then you might be able to imagine the leftovers of what had happened nearly 60 years ago, when the light had been taken from the world and all of the life within it.
By Maria Clark5 years ago in Fiction
Surviving the Wounded Earth
Cheers and jeers erupted from the crowd of spectators as my elbow landed squarely upon my opponent’s jaw. I rode the bucking torso underneath me like a writhing wave of flesh and then landed another blow. A new torrent of sound released from the crowd as the body beneath me went limp, and I knew that the fight was over. The crowd began to settle as I stood up, and I watched them exchange dirty coins and scraps of whatever tech they could find as currency. It would have been an ugly sight under even the best circumstances, but as I walked away from the bloody and battered frame of another fighter, everything about the scene seemed filthy and vile. But the days of lavish stadiums, thousands of fans, and affluent spectators were long gone. I pushed my way out of the pit and through the throng of gamblers and voyeurs as fast as I could.
By Martin McGreggor5 years ago in Fiction
The World Has Grown Silent
It’s been 3 years since I’ve last seen my mother. All I have left of her is my great-great grandmother’s gold heart-shaped locket. The one she always told me to wear, but I refused because I saw it as tacky and old. I never thought that now I would hold it so dear and pray that one day I would survive long enough to give it to children of my own.
By Imani Lehte5 years ago in Fiction
Ghosts of the Shattered
Emmaline stood at the corner of the forest. She stood on the side that many dared not wander. The “dark space” most survivors called it. Emmaline called it a sanctuary; she called it home. The forest was the one place she could be herself. She wasn’t judged or defined by her appearance. For when she left the edge of the dark and stepped into the bright sun, others would judge her. Emmaline was a survivor, one of the Ravaged, within death proximity to “the blast” that changed the world. The immense radiation caused millions of deaths, and those that survived had to fight for life. For in the dark, the monsters hid—those who were altered and deformed by the effects. But Emmaline had a saving grace. Her “picture perfect” solution, she called it. It was a locket. To anyone else, it looked like a dingy, scuffed up, dime-store find. But to Emmaline, it allowed her the ability to walk among the “regs” without being judged. You see, those that were close to the blast were the targets. The Leaders wanted to eliminate a particular population for they disagreed with the lives they led.
By Cailin Cortner5 years ago in Fiction
Light through Shadows
We knew it was coming. We knew it was inevitable. And yet... None of us knew what would happen after. Would we live on and find paradise? Rise from the ashes like a Phoenix, continuing with our daily lives like nothing happened? Or would everything just... stop? No life, no light or darkness. Nothingness.
By Karissa King5 years ago in Fiction
Journey Ch. 2 Pt. 2
Argus explained that she would start her studies about the history of mystic and the kingdom in the morning and left the room with a bow. She walked over to the window and looked out to see the lushness of a world untouched by the technology of hers. Winding rivers and birds soaring. They must be atop a mountain because the view was expansive. She could see miles out towards a range of mountains that were topped with snow guarding the horizon. The small villages in the distance were the only thing breaking the forest, appearing like islands in a vast ocean of green. The sprawling rivers disappeared and reappeared around the trees and hills with intertwining roads paved in a grey stone. The view was breathtaking, she could stare for hours and find new things wherever she looked. She turned around to see the hooded man she met in the dungeon standing just by her door. Startled, she backed up to the window.
By Damian Pires5 years ago in Fiction
