Fantasy
Myth No More
Wilmington, Delaware in winter always marveled the mind of Pollard Hedrich. Wrapped in brown skin that rivaled the inside of matchbooks, his mind had always been afire. He walked with his friend Tyrell Frankman, the color of charcoal, along a field with a clear path, snow surrounding them.
By Skyler Saunders3 days ago in Fiction
Waiting
Once upon a time, there was a fair maiden, trapped in a tower almost as lonely as her mind. She spent her days longing for companionship and her nights wishing upon the passing falling stars for anybody to come find her. The maiden did not know how she got to the tower, was not sure how long she had been there, and hadn’t the slightest clue how to leave. Days stacked high upon days as she waited and waited for a rescuer.
By Raine Neal3 days ago in Fiction
Where Do You Go When the Story Doesn’t End?
Sometimes stories end because the book is actually finished. Others abruptly stop because the reader has fallen asleep. But sometimes the story keeps going simply because it's developed a mind of its own, leaving you to keep turning the pages without noticing.
By Shannon Hilson3 days ago in Fiction
Moonharbor
I sit on the cliff that hangs off of Moonharbor counting the stars. My mom is working late again like usual, and my dad passed away when I was young. After he passed I felt separate from the world. Like someone who watches the world instead of being part of it. I spend days wishing someone would sit beside me, watching the stars, just like me and my father used to. I feel the wind brush my cheek, and play with my hair. The salt of the ocean falls on my tongue, as the dark night silences all emotions. I watch the waves hit the rocks, and admire the moonlight reflecting off the water. I feel a heaviness in my chest, like a stone sitting on my ribs making it hard to breath as I sit with the stars as my only company. I notice the moon is lower than usual, that's strange but we are not too different both lonely in the dark of the night.
By Christian Sanchez3 days ago in Fiction
Fires of Adversity
Kathryn, Princess of Thuirene, rose early to enjoy the sunrise in peaceful solitude. As much solitude as a member of the royal family ever got, anyway. She’d have little enough of that in the coming days, that every moment without someone demanding her attention was a gift to be savoured.
By Natasja Rose4 days ago in Fiction
The Brightness
By the time Cara reached her locker, the light had already arrived. It was rising through the floor in a slow, deliberate sheet, a pale brightness that behaved less like illumination and more like weather. Not harsh. Not blinding. Just there, pressing gently upward, filling the hallway from the ground like something patient and inevitable. It softened the edges of everything it touched. Lockers. Shoes. The thin layer of dust that never quite disappeared, no matter how often the cleaners came through.
By Emilie Turner4 days ago in Fiction
The Weight of Blood - Part 1/2
“We know it's one of you.” The nameless guard's voice cut through the stale air of the dark cavern seconds after storming into the underground tavern. He wore a traditional black long coat with dark green zigzag patterns running vertically, as was custom for a Solazor Guard, but with three dark brown lapels on his right shoulder marking him as the Captain.
By Liam Storm4 days ago in Fiction
“The Girl Who Broke Willowford”
It's currently the summer of 1955 my name is James Hale, I live in the small town of Willowford. I work at my local diner, taking the same customers every day, receiving the same meals and life is good. It feels like every week repeats but nobody questions it, that's just how life is in Willowford. There’s a comfort to the routine, a rhythm to the days that never changes. People wave the same way, smile the same way, live the same way. Maybe that’s why I’ve never questioned it — Willowford feels safe, even when it feels strange.
By Christian Sanchez4 days ago in Fiction
Memories of a life before. Content Warning.
There are memories within us that don't belong to the one that we are,and yet they become reflected back at us from within each reflection we see. A different and incomplete version of ourselves looks back into our souls; it shows us the life we could have had if we could just recognise that there are qualities within us that we just can't acknowledge.
By Nadine Haigh5 days ago in Fiction
