Fantasy

The Curse
There once was a princess, called Tabatha who lived in a beautiful castle in the North of Fairy Kingdom. She had everything, she could ever wish for, except a sister. So, her mother decided to give birth to another child in order for Tabatha to always have a friend in life. Her mother had trouble falling pregnant, so she went to the old witch doctor in the south side of town and asked for a tonic to help her conceive a child. The old witch doctor, said I need something in return for creating life, for life comes with a high cost. You have to promise to give me your eldest daughter’s hand in marriage.
By Melissa Meintjes 5 years ago in Fiction
After the Fall
It starts with a golden ball. A smallish sphere. A dance in an opulent room. Of course, the ball isn’t actual gold, probably steel with gold paint. I can even see silver flecks sprinkled and shining across its surface where the paint has worn away. And the dance isn’t really a dance, but a glittering farce. Not very impressive, but it’s important to me.
By Mikyn Fullmer5 years ago in Fiction
Humanity's Extinction
I remember when the world government announced the extermination of humanity within 24 hours. The cause wasn't a meteorite, an extra-terrestrial invasion, or a world-wide nuclear frenzy between countries. It was a conscious decision made by the world government for population control and "the good of the planet." A bioweapon had been engineered to directly obliterate mankind on an atomic level. No corpses or disease would remain from its victims. Their bodies would vanish, and the murder would be as clean as if they never existed in the first place.
By E.L. Martin5 years ago in Fiction
Strangers and Enemies
She walked outside being careful to observe the positioning of the sun, the clouds, and the sounds of wildlife. She had learned how to sense when the air wasn’t right. Nature seemed to shut down when the winds shifted in a dangerous direction. Even though she was miles away from the closest exclusion zone, being observant was the difference between surviving and a painful death, one that was dubbed The Bitter End, partially due to the excruciating pain its infected experienced, partially due to the bitter smell of those who were afflicted gave off once the toxins aggressively deconstructed their organs.
By Jamie Hubler5 years ago in Fiction
The Concept of Dystopia
Hold on a second. Before we start here today I must say that something absolutely horrible happened. I just walked out from the office, finding out that there are no more reserves left. We might run out of food and perish! If anyone around here happens to hear me and knows how to help out, please do so. It means even more that money.
By Alice K.S.5 years ago in Fiction
Heed My Handmaid's Tale
To whatever unlucky soul may find this letter, Sometimes life doesn’t work out the way you imagined, and that’s certainly what happened for me. I’ll start at the beginning though, as not to confuse anyone reading this. My name is Elizabeth McLane, or at least it was, when I was alive. Not to say that I’m not alive, but I’ll get to that. My life was rather average, I had loving parents, a great job, I was doing well in school, and had plans to marry my high school sweetheart. Life was great! Until my boyfriend gifted me that stupid locket. It was a gorgeous gold locket, in the shape of a heart, and it complimented my golden tan skin perfectly. Getting that locket was the start of all of my troubles, however.
By Jessica Monson5 years ago in Fiction
Dawn's Red Sky
https://www.pikist.com/free-photo-sdjxs Craig watched the last wisps of gun smoke rise slowly into the air. His little band of survivors had been fortunate this time, but there was still losses. Mitch lay on the ground, unmoving. His freckled face would not light up in that devil may care grin again. He was only a kid, but the constant struggle for survival had aged him, and everyone else, fast. Several others had minor injuries, but no one else had died today. The would be attackers all lay dead. Running a hand through his brown, filthy hair, Craig looked at his band of fighters. Lack of food and sleep, and above all the constant need for alertness and caution, was taking its toll on everyone. “All right, everyone, load up and let's head back to base.” “What about Mitch?” Kurt asked. “His body stays,” Craig replied. Unhappy murmuring echoed around the group, but no one opposed Craig. Somehow he'd managed to keep everyone alive and safe despite the odds. These days, that counted for a lot.
By Margaret Draper5 years ago in Fiction
The Mid-Hills
THE MID-HILLS Ruthy-Ru In the heart of the hills far north of a northwestern city, an old woman sat playing dice on a slab of ancient granite before a crackling fire. Her home was a warm and inviting place where many had paid long and eventful visits; from this World and Others, many of the locals were heard to say over a few beers at the Clear Lake Tavern.
By Jeffrey Harris5 years ago in Fiction
Wonderment
The moon is swollen and brighter than usual. Her pale, quivering light creates elongated shadows between the crevices of the buildings below. A boy stops and looks up. He can’t see me – he is wearing his mask – but I hold my breath all the same. Stepping back from the window frame, my sleeve catches on a shard of old paint. It tugs briefly then snaps free. The sensation sends a shiver through down my spine.
By Cara Thurlbourn5 years ago in Fiction
Desperados
Friday 26th of July, 2109. What used to be Tucson, Arizona. The man the others called “Bull Frog” pointed his shotgun at the hydraulic Honky-Tonk piano, which started playing a bluegrass version of “Paint it Black”. He was white, sunburnt, about 6’6”, bald, in his mid-fifties. There was yellow grease on his short beard. There was something deeply perverse about him. It was not hard to tell that the man was jaded by violence. No soul in his eyes no matter how long one would stare into them.
By Konstantinos Andrikopoulos5 years ago in Fiction
Treasure Hunt
I opened my eyes. There was an eye right in front of mine. It wasn’t Mommy. I tried to grab her hand. The water took her away. It took a lot of them away. I saw them as I grabbed the arm outstretched beside me. I didn’t even see the arm. I just reached out and it was there. The water was churning. It was scary. The boat made the water wavy. The waves took some of them. It took a lot of them. Mommy was gone. I went under for a sec, and then she was gone. The arm next to me held me. The boat was coming. It was coming towards us.
By Lisa Poeltl5 years ago in Fiction
Angel of the Night
As the wolves’ howl at the sea, by the moonlight, we move quietly from our resting place. She silently shifts her weight from one foot to the next, counting the strides, feeling the space in between. Sensing the midnight air on her face, feeling the depth of the risk that falls in front of her, she begins to crouch, brace and wait. Cowering in the long grass, just for a moment longer, not yet ready to run.
By Nicole Kennedy5 years ago in Fiction