Frank English
Bio
Writing is my passion and boy do i have some stories to share! if you like any of my work please leave a like or a comment. Subscribe if you wanna stay up to date as i have a lot planned. you are all wonderful!
Stories (7/0)
The Cursed Conch
As the twilight waned, the soldiers appeared from the forest’s shadowy embrace, like specters heralding doom. A demon, cloaked in the guise of a man, came forth to slay the solitary figure who dared to confront the approaching darkness. Thelbe Jack, with eyes wide and heart pounding, searched the desolate battlefield for an ally, a friend, anyone. Yet, he was truly and utterly alone. His voice rose in a scream, a desperate plea to the heavens, but it was not his voice that tore through the silence. Instead, it was the blood-curdling shriek of his mother, echoing from the past as she fell under the merciless blade of Captain Voss of the Red Army. That harrowing sound had haunted Thelbe’s dreams, and now, it was his grim chorus.
By Frank English4 days ago in Fiction
The Arcana Coalition
Thelbe Jack reclined in the shadowy confines of the carriage as it speeds toward Watercrest. His gaze, the color of a clear winter sky, was fixed on the small satchel clutched by the elf sprawled unconscious across from him. He snatched the bag and glanced inside. The bag’s contents—a pinecone, a skein of yarn, a solitary black candle, two odd silver coins—were an enigma, seemingly irrelevant to any conceivable purpose. Among these oddities, Thelbe found a small delight: a piece of caramel, its sweetness encased in plastic. He pocketed the treat in his tunic and nonchalantly tossed the remaining trinkets at the elf, who twitched in response. With a weary exhalation and an eye roll, Thelbe turned his attention to the world outside the window, yearning for the freedom of the skies, a stark contrast to the confines of this terrible vessel. A shiver coursed through him as memories of a frigid night four years prior surfaced—the night he Staged his death to elude the Sun Kingdom’s forces that slaughtered his kin. That harrowing eclipse marked the end of his former self and the birth of the man he had to become. A simmering rage began to stir within him.
By Frank English10 days ago in Fiction
- Top Story - May 2024
The Road to NowhereTop Story - May 2024
Trigger warnings: Violence, Death. "May the Sun burn your tongue out, woman," Fredrick's father screamed the curse into his mother's ear as their elegant little carriage rumbled along, its polished wood and gilded trim glinting in the torchlight. They had just left the small village of Saffron and were on an unnamed road to the capital for the Royal wedding. Fredrick leaned back in his plush velvet seat to escape into the passing landscape, but across from him sat the servant boy, a scrappy lad named Jack. Jack's eyes held a mixture of awe and fear, the kind that only a commoner could feel in the presence of nobility. Jack looked up and caught Fredrick's gaze, offering him a sad little smile before reaching into his pocket and retrieving a little caramel treat. This candy was no doubt stolen from the kitchen treat cupboard; if he was caught with it, he would be locked in the box as punishment.
By Frank English20 days ago in Fiction
Escape from the Wishing Falls
It all seems like a blurry dream. This morning I set out to look for my lost brother. Now I am lost myself. Nothing seems real as I walk through the clearing and towards the waterfall, towards the chilling yet sweet voice of the blonde woman in the lake. I hear her voice but I can't make out the words, my bare feet get swallowed up by the tall grass with every step I take. Nothing is right, my mind is in a fog, pain keeps shooting through my right leg, everything is so hard to focus. I walk and I walk but the lake gets no closer and the woman's song never becomes more clear. Every inch I move forward is harder than the last, but I know deep inside me I have to reach the waterfall.
By Frank English2 years ago in Horror
The Wishing Falls
The Wishing Falls October 17th was the last night I spoke to my brother. It's been two weeks now and as I hiked up the rampant river he was supposed to be camping at, I can't help but recall that last phone call. I remember being irritated that he called me so early in the morning, he was speaking nonsense and I was so tired from a party the night before I couldn't, or rather wouldn't make out what he was trying to tell me. He said he found all his Dreams beside the waterfall. I told him he needed to lay off the special brownies he's been into lately and to call me back in the morning.
By Frank English3 years ago in Horror
