Fantasy, philosophy, adventure, and overly complex world-building. Check out some writing from this nerdy camp counselor!
Those who gain power always fear to lose it. I still wonder why she said this to me. Atop horseback, looking down on me, as I held back my tears. I didn’t want my father to see me cry; although I swear, I saw him wipe away a tear that day. The paper read the next day that Lady Cantrell had “unexpectedly vanished,” on a study trip. Yet she said goodbye that last night. Not see you soon, not even I love you. Goodbye. And that warning.
- Top Story - May 2023
worst memoriesTop Story - May 2023
INTRODUCTION: AN ULTIMATE PLAYLIST To our worst memories; may they also be our best. That toast, known as “the Watcher’s Toast,” in a fantastical world I often write in, is meant to encourage reflection and peacefulness in one’s memories. Imagine if when you died, you had to relive your worst memory for eternity. That would be hell, wouldn’t it? But if you think about it, memories are always connected, connected by ever long strings which constantly remind us of each other memory. So, if you take the time and reflect and remember how your worst, darkest, most soul-crushing moments eventually forged you into greatness, reliving them wouldn’t be so bad. That’s why this playlist, which I made to listen to on my last drive ever home from college, is titled, “worst memories.”
Cato glanced over, head throbbing, watching the beautiful woman frustratedly flipping through countless pages of old tomes whose meanings lived in the past. Her hair was bound in tight braids, restricting its flow downward, highlighting the tight yet comfortable traveler’s clothes she opted for rather than her well-worn but well-kempt noble’s attire.
The Child of TIme
He must have had a reason. No ship had ever arrived on the shores of Arthénátou on purpose. Not that any sailor with half the intelligence of a newborn Pixie would ever want to. The labyrinthian archipelago was said to have formed from the persistently active volcano, spewing fire and molten lava to form snaking islands of rare stones. The Mortals also believed this to be why the islands were constantly shrouded in a film of steam. Getting close to the volcanic island in the heart of the archipelago was often so hot sailor’s sweat would begin to evaporate from their face. Fear of their insides boiling along with the ocean kept them at bay. Centuries had gone by, and this fear alone had been effective enough. Lucrative trade with neighboring shores took a few days longer, but any merchant with a modicum of regional knowledge would take the time over losing their merchandise and possibly their ship.