ANNA CORAL
Stories (23/0)
Clocking Out of the Supernatural
Chloe wasn't your average thirteen-year-old. Sure, she enjoyed the occasional pop song and had a questionable obsession with glitter, but her true passion lay in the realm of the extraordinary – specifically, unearthing evidence of the supernatural. Her bedroom resembled a cluttered museum of the peculiar: a jar of "ghost breath" (stale air), a collection of "alien antennae" (twisted pipe cleaners), and a framed photo of her neighbor Mr. Johnson (labeled "possible vampire – sleeps all day").
By ANNA CORALa day ago in BookClub
The Daughter's Desolation
The unforgiving sun beat down on Eva's back as she trudged across the cracked earth. Her once vibrant green eyes, now dull with exhaustion, scanned the horizon for any sign of life. The once fertile fields of her village lay barren, ravaged by a relentless drought. Hunger gnawed at her stomach, a constant companion for weeks.
By ANNA CORALa day ago in BookClub
Through Eleanor's Emerald Eyes
Olivia, with her signature emerald green glasses perched on her nose, squinted through the dusty attic window. Rain lashed against the panes, a perfect accompaniment to the unsettling discovery she'd just made. Nestled amongst moth-eaten shawls and chipped teacups lay a leather-bound journal, its clasp partially undone. The delicate script on the flyleaf sent shivers down her spine – "Eleanor Davies, 1922."
By ANNA CORALa day ago in History
The Song of a Dying Star
Alexa wasn't built for heroism. With her perpetually oil-streaked overalls and a mop of unruly brown hair that defied all attempts at taming, she was more comfortable tinkering with salvaged tech in her garage workshop than navigating the social minefields of high school. Yet, here she was, hurtling towards the heart of the unknown, cocooned within the cramped confines of a repurposed escape pod.
By ANNA CORALa day ago in Fiction
Lady Sparrow
The year was 1888, London. Evelyn perched precariously on the rain-slicked rooftop, the wind whipping her hair into a frenzy. Below, the gaslights cast an eerie glow on the labyrinthine streets, a stark contrast to the inky blackness of the night sky. A shiver ran down her spine, a tremor that wasn't entirely from the cold. Evelyn wasn't supposed to be here. A lady of refined breeding, especially one poised to marry a prominent solicitor, did not frequent rooftops.
By ANNA CORALa day ago in History
Chapter 1: Anya: Echoes from a Forgotten World
The city of Aetheria pulsed with bioluminescent life. Buildings resembled giant, living organisms, their facades shimmering with an otherworldly glow. Anya, a young mechanic with grease-stained overalls and a mop of fiery red hair, zipped through the neon canyons on her trusty hoverboard, her goggles reflecting the city's vibrant chaos.
By ANNA CORAL2 days ago in Futurism
Flight of the Phoenix Weaver
Asala, with eyes the color of twilight and hair like spun moonlight, was a weaver's daughter, her life as intricately woven as the tapestries her father crafted. Her nimble fingers, though small, possessed an uncanny talent, whispering stories into silk and dreams into wool. Every thread held a memory, every knot a whispered tale. But fate, a fickle weaver itself, decided to unravel Asala's life with a cruel twist. A raging storm at sea claimed her fragile vessel, leaving behind only a half-finished tapestry depicting a magnificent phoenix rising from a pyre of crimson flames.
By ANNA CORAL2 days ago in BookClub
A Journey to Celestia
Absolutely! Here's the story with Michelle: Michelle, a tinker with grease-stained fingers and a mind teeming with impossible dreams, toiled in the smog-choked underbelly of the Chrome City. The city, a behemoth of steel and smoke, scraped the underside of the endless gray clouds that forever shrouded the world. Legends whispered of a fantastical realm above, Celestia, bathed in eternal sunlight and rumored to hold the secrets of the stars.
By ANNA CORAL2 days ago in Art
## Princess Tiara and the Whispering Waterfall
Princess Tiara loathed tiaras. The heavy jewels dug into her scalp, their sparkle a constant reminder of the gilded cage her life felt like. Unlike her sisters, who dreamt of balls and eligible suitors, Tiara yearned for adventure, for tales whispered on dusty scrolls and maps crinkled with the touch of explorers. The library, not the rose garden, became her sanctuary. There, with the scent of aged parchment and the hushed whispers of forgotten knowledge, Tiara felt truly alive.
By ANNA CORAL2 days ago in BookClub
Rin's Golden Dream
Rain lashed against the rickety shack, the wind howling like a famished wolf. Inside, huddled beneath a threadbare blanket, sat Rin. A skinny girl of ten, with eyes the color of storm clouds and hair like tangled seaweed, she clutched a worn book, its pages filled with fantastical tales of faraway lands and unimaginable wealth. It was her only escape from the harsh reality of her life.
By ANNA CORAL10 days ago in BookClub
Ink on Starlight
Amara, a seasoned cartographer with ink-stained fingers and a thirst for the unknown, stumbled upon a weathered parchment tucked within a dusty tome. It depicted a swirling vortex, an impossible gateway rumored to lead to the Celestial Cartography, a mythical archive charted by constellations. The thought of such a place, a library woven from starlight, ignited a spark within her.
By ANNA CORAL10 days ago in BookClub
The Whispers Through the Door
The antique shop sat on the corner, a gargoyle perched on its dusty awning like a silent sentinel. Rain lashed against the grimy windows, blurring the treasures within. Eleanor, drawn by an inexplicable magnetism, pushed open the creaking door.
By ANNA CORAL10 days ago in Fiction