K.H. Obergfoll
Bio
Author. Writer. Adventurer. World Creator. Aspiring to be Published by 2023. https://kaybombshell.wixsite.com/kocreativewriter
Stories (52/0)
The Enchanted Forest
Every night at midnight, the purple clouds came out to dance with the blushing sky. This wasn’t normal—at least not for James and Rebecca Stallworth, they were used to tufts of sordid black fog casting shadows down on their sleepy city as stars hid behind blankets of darkness. Of course how could they have known the skies would be different, they’d never walked this late in the woods before—and seeing as to how they couldn’t sleep they decided a midnight walk would do the trick.
By K.H. Obergfoll19 days ago in Fiction
The Magistrate's Magician
Every night at midnight, the purple clouds came out to dance with the blushing sky. It was a sordid dance on most nights and while the ancient city of Sleetmore slept—Abigail Fourpetal lie awake in her bed as the sounds of chanting and cheering rose from the pulpit below. Echoes of the gavel preceding her arrival. Imperial waves of chalky mist would soon appear frolicking with each other like prancing lilacs and lunar junipers in a windswept field—comingling, intermingling, becoming one; but the show wouldn’t last forever.
By K.H. Obergfoll24 days ago in Fiction
Upon the Winged Wind Gods We Ride
Every night at midnight, the purple clouds came out to dance with the blushing sky. It was a magical sight to see—Iliana wanted to be first to taste the sugary mist as it settled on the sapphire drops of dew; radiant jewels that lit up the otherwise quiet night sky casting quiet ripples along the pathway of the river meadow.
By K.H. Obergfoll26 days ago in Fiction
Crumbling Walls
This story—my story— doesn’t begin like most others. It was something out of a dream, a nightmare, but like I said, it doesn’t begin in the water like most dreams, hell it doesn’t even end there. Unfortunately for me it’s much, much worse—you see—my story ends where yours begins, or at least that’s what the house would have me think; plastered walls that talk way too much for their own good.
By K.H. Obergfollabout a month ago in Psyche
The House Where Bones Lie
Buried sands and idle hands equal tempered plans for a soon forgotten man. While up above and so down below, the deeply rooted tree devours its own; Clutching tightly to rotted bones and sinking graves of withered stone—it does more harm than it should to crawl unfettered—for to wilt and die is nothing but to sit on weighted, borrowed time.
By K.H. Obergfollabout a month ago in Criminal
THE LOST COLONY ADVENTURES of HIDEAWAY ISLAND
“Wait…no, don’t do that!” Seething, icy layers of dread sunk deeper into the pit of my stomach, plopping right next to my resolution. A lurching, retching motion swayed my insides, turning my head as I felt my stomach spin again—was it, no, it couldn’t be. Yesterday was bad enough, I had woken up in a smelly cesspit of a barge—a ship, a place I had only ever read about and trust me when I say—it wasn’t what dreams were made of—and this morning—same thing. I could taste the unwashed smells of a thousand men before I even opened my eyes.
By K.H. Obergfollabout a month ago in Fiction
Midnight Born
If only walls could talk—it’s a catchy if not unremarkable thing most of us say in passing. Only select few have ever witnessed such an occurrence—after all, who would believe them if they told? It’s genius really—something Abigail Hensley had grown up hearing—“mind the walls my dear, careful what you say. They’re always watching, always listening.”
By K.H. Obergfollabout a month ago in Fiction
The End Descendants: Withering Marshes
The outside world was unknown to her, but she could see a glimpse of it through the window in his room. Adrienne sat quiet, unsure of what to think as she listened carefully to the dull rain humming against the glass, lead-lined panes. Knowing for the first time in her entire life she would soon be alone. Hours, even days before you couldn’t have guessed this would be way it all would end.
By K.H. Obergfoll3 months ago in Futurism
