Historical
The Dragon's Library
Hello dear reader, my name is Rednar and I am a dragon. Before you go into a fit about how dragons don't exist you're right at this point however they did exist at one point. If you are reading this though then I am dead and with that death the final dragon has passed from this world. I'm not here to talk about the death of dragons though so let us depart from this subject. As a dragon I am a collector of items. You of course know the traditional things a dragon hoards. Gold, jewels, and other precious metals. However that is not the only thing we can hoard. Much like with humans, dragons can have preferences. My preference used to be the typical precious metals but one day it became books.
By Josephine Mason4 years ago in Fiction
Knock on the Door- An Army Brat Story
It was 2005. My mother, older brother Aaron, and my step father had just moved from central Kentucky to Fort Drum, New York in the middle of December. I remember how much the temperature changed each time we got out of my moms Ford Explorer each stop on the 16 hour long drive up. When we pulled out of our driveway in Somerset the temperature gauge (which we considered very high tech in a vehicle at the time) had read 43 degrees, when we arrived at Fort Drum, it was displaying a brisk -17.
By Amanda Hamilton4 years ago in Fiction
May's Luck
The dry leaves on the trees fluttered to the ground aimlessly, across the November sky. The ground was dry as the night settled in, May cast a resigned glance at the plants that had withered in her large garden. She had wept her share of tears and wished she could perhaps turn her tears to water her plants. The drought had hit the little Oak City with much grievousness, they all had no way to make their plants survive, the ground was hungry and the nearby streams dried up. The little water they got from the town pump was just what they all used to stay alive themselves. They could only watch as their plants withered one after the other and the gradual leanness in the portion of food served on the dinner table.
By Esther Fashola4 years ago in Fiction
WORKING TITLE: Silence Like Knives
I. The Curse had fully taken him, then. I’d always felt it my personal responsibility to watch over him- to care for him. And, yet, he now lay bare. Withered. Sprawled across the straw-filled makeshift mattress with little-other than a tattered cloth shielding his ever-paling figure from the World’s eye. The Widow Ayre had come to call, and was now seated at the edge of his bed. Upon entry, she brushed past my guilt-stricken figure, kneeling to analyze the man. After tending to the kettle, and livening the fire, the Widow set to attempting comforting him, delicately patting a dampened cloth across his sweat-stained complexion.
By Ireland Monét Cash4 years ago in Fiction
A Hope of Gathering
The silent killer swooped down, her silhouette cast a blur across the starry night sky. Wings cut through the wind with only the slightest rustle of feathers as she adjusted for small upticks of current. She was searching the ground for her perch, a familiar friend she had been eager to reconnect with. Her large, black eyes took in the light that only a few others could, this body of hers adept to the darkness. She scanned the edge of the old growth forest for her target, a challenge even for her, until she saw the wave of a pale hand. There he was, she let out a soft whistle indicating her position, then swooped down towards the extended hand.
By AJ O’Reilly4 years ago in Fiction
Start a Riot
As soon as we turned the corner, I could see smoke everywhere: storefronts were on fire, people were running around with boatloads of merchandise in their hands, fighting, I mean, Monument Street was in total Manheim. All of Monument Street ablaze: it was like seeing something out of a movie; withal, uncle Bean spotted his friend, Smitty, running with the crowd; however, oddly enough, my uncle Bean seeing Smitty within that enormous crowd of people running. Furthermore, I knew that Smitty was an acquaintance from jail; he was his cell buddy from Jessup cut. Uncle Bean blew the horn as we came to an erupting stop: he came running and jumped in the front seat of my uncle's car while screaming, "Go, go, go." Just then, Smitty and an officer that was riding by locked eyes.
By Porshia Bernard 4 years ago in Fiction
The Lougarou of Laplaine
Gathered around the fire as neighbors, and families laughed together under the evening sky as they did every full moon, they ate their fill of fire roasted native dishes. It was amazing the way the tribe found the strength to honor the lives of the missing elderly, amidst the empty beds, and the missing wisdom holders that neighbors woke up to in the yard every 3rd full moon cycle…. the numbers of the lost elderly were increasingly high this time around, so uniting together for community care and blessings of the Yard elder to celebrate life that has come and gone was exactly the remedy for tears they shared. The neighborhoods were divided into yards of 12 houses per yard and each were like a village with 1 yard leader, an elder… Our yard leader Noushka (Noushka) was not your average elder… adored and celebrated by all, she was filled with an endless source of wisdom, wise beyond the years that were etched on her youthful deep brown skin, nothing about her cracked…
By Nia🌺of 🌸The 🌻Flowers🌹4 years ago in Fiction
Castle McDermott
A shrill cry echoes in the night. Candlelight illuminates Freya's face from across the room. Looking into my sister’s wide eyes, I know she heard it too. I hear shuffling from somewhere inside the cottage, footsteps on the floor, light moving its way closer to the door frame.
By Kelsey Kidder4 years ago in Fiction
Eugenia
She had probably been hanging there all night when they found her. She had been young and lithe from what they could tell, her previously sharp ebony skin now turning a sickly gray. They agreed that she must have once radiated real beauty. A beauty that had probably gone unnoticed in the small town they were in. They hoped it had anyway. The alternative was likely worse.
By Louis Allen4 years ago in Fiction
