Fantasy
Crow's Flight
The final battle narrative was demonstrably false. It was heavily dramatized, created to appeal to masses of adventure-seeking readers and excitable children. In truth, every battle seems like the final one. Every clash of swords feels like the one to break you, every parried thrust feels like the last one you could ever take, and either your faith in your cause forces you to push past the aching muscles and despair, or it doesn’t. Or it’s too weak, and you crumble like paper in the palm of your hand.
By Raphael Schultz5 years ago in Fiction
The Scout
Today was the day for Blake. Routines had been established for the survival of the Roberts Clan. What used to be parklike beauty in the mountains of The former state of North Carolina, in the former United States of America, were now ugly growths of weeds interspersed with great stretches' of barren rock. Grim reminders of the Final American Conflict were everywhere. The Roberts Clan had managed to find a small valley that was hard to find and easy to defend. Still, vigilance had to be maintained.
By Joseph C Thornsbury5 years ago in Fiction
Loon
From far across the field of ice, we saw the smoke. The sun had polished the snow to mirror brightness and we hurried, fearing what the smoke foretold. But the beasts that pull our supply sleds can only trundle through the crusted drifts so fast. Too slow, too slow - but nothing could be fast enough, for my sister was there.
By Danielle Loewen5 years ago in Fiction
Sisters of Apathetic Mercy
The Sisters of Apathetic Mercy were not like other Orders; instead of spending their time praising their god, they spent most of the time fixing his mistakes. It was into this Order that a girl who had once been known by the name of Evelyn was recruited.
By Rayne Goblinkore5 years ago in Fiction
Beneath the surface
"Put that down dear..."She trailed off. "Lost things from before..." I could see her pondering her next words, turning them over in her mind, analyzing them carefully, as to choose the best ones. Right as I was about to put my unwanted two cents in, without skipping a beat she jumped right back into it, " ..Simply are not meant to be found. That's why they're called lost things. Isn't that right, dear?"
By Seminole Fraley5 years ago in Fiction
The White House by the Sea
What will become of the world, little one? How will we make and unmake things Until they are strange and new? * They lived in the white house on the outcrop by the sea. The wind was always blowing and the days were always a half-darkness of dense grey clouds, syltasi’va in the tongue of their grandmother. Always, the clouds.
By Conor McCammon5 years ago in Fiction
Bound
The many times I have walked down this corridor, never have I ever been this angry and grateful. "Why did you decide on me," I asked after about ten minutes of suspenseful silence. ' No reply. Of course, I should have known. If you are not one of them, you are not worth a word.' "Well, anyways , thank you." " You're welcome. Now listen, I am going to go ahead and inform you of some of the things you will need to know about Vanaura. She loves playing games, and unlike most of the Opal clan, she is more sensitive. . . " At that word, I recalled all the rumors I had heard about her ability. What would she sense in me? My hatred for the way things were set up, or perhaps she would sense I hate being a prisoner. The questions just continued to race through my mind as Danq continued escorting me. I realized where he led me when I heard him knock. The screech the hinges made made me cringe and know they had yet to be oiled this month. We both walked in, our "prizes" were practicing for the next annual trade. Andreo, David, and Vanaura were all sitting at the jeweled table. Every clan had one that was decorated in the oldest gems that they had at their disposal.
By Cody Kennedy5 years ago in Fiction
Déjà vu
Always being pulled shut lazily, the curtains had a habit of never fully closing. The morning light had just began to fall through the gap, making particles of dust look as though they were waltzing through the air. Every morning started the exact same. It stood still; the outside world still asleep. And then just like clockwork he rolled over. I have about two minutes of watching the sun dance on his face before he woke up. My favourite moment of every single day. His eyes open, dazed by the bright sun. I watch him, entranced by the colours of his now waking eyes. Burnt pools of honey staring back at me. Filled with so much…soul? The familiarity of his eyes still giving me butterflies, this is what is feels like to be falling in love. And for a moment, it’s like maybe he remembers who I am. Then like a switch turning off the moments over, the soul in his eyes disappear, still the colour of honey but now somewhat colder. A feeling of uneasy washes over me, this is the moment I hate of everyday. As the sun has finished rising and reality sets in.
By Leigh Williams5 years ago in Fiction
The Wish
‘The spread of the disease caused the infrastructures of cities everywhere to crumble like clockwork at a breakneck speed. Large swaths of the population became sick, in sync with their vaccination priority. Senior citizens succumbed first, then medical professionals, first responders and essential service workers, followed by the rest of the adult population. and finally Children 12-17. chaos and panic took root as an ever increasing number of people began to get sick, turning once smart, intelligent, fully functioning members of society into empty,mindless bags of meat, quickly forgetting everything including how to drink, eat and eventually breath. Both the soon to be dead and the dead littered the streets. The World Health Organisation was able to use the emergency broadcast system to inform the public that this seemed to be a long term side effect of the vaccine and they were working on a cure. But that was just the one time and radio stations had gone dead weeks ago.’
By Rick MacCormack5 years ago in Fiction
