Mythmaker
View DetailsThe Winners!
Why the Willow Weeps. Runner-Up in Mythmaker Challenge.
Have you ever noticed that there are no trees quite like the Willow? Or wondered why it is called the "Weeping" Willow? Have you noticed that where almost all other trees reach high toward the sky, the Willow's branches reach instead toward the ground? Have you ever lay beneath a Willow's boughs and listened to her soft sighs and heard the sound of her weeping? Listen, now, and I will tell you a story about why this is...
By Kyle Hulbert3 years ago in Fiction
The Spyglass. Runner-Up in Mythmaker Challenge.
The Spyglass, Or Myth of the First Orphan The house stands strong despite its sandy foundation. Miles of digging had yielded a layer fit for the necessary starting place. Now, level with the dune runoffs, a patch of grass frames the boundaries of what had become possible in such a wasteland: an oasis, home to an eccentric hermit and his flower garden. He tends to it now, frail spine comforted in familiar bend, spade in hand. A forgotten smile tugs at his stroke-afflicted mouth, but an intensity circles his irises, evidencing the internal battle to rediscover just a memory or two.
By Mackenzie Davis3 years ago in Fiction
Uncle, Whence Laughter?. Runner-Up in Mythmaker Challenge.
The other children orbited Gunther like mocking moons. He had always moved and spoken slowly and clumsily. Sensing his vulnerability, his peers made an elaborate sport of teasing, deriding and ridiculing the poor lad.
By D. J. Reddall3 years ago in Fiction
The Sleepless Giant. Runner-Up in Mythmaker Challenge.
Come here, my child. Don’t tread the snow in. Sit with your grandmother beside the fire on this cold night, lest we freeze. The frost has reached my bones and nothing warms the soul like a story retold. Did you know the waterfall beyond the trees was the first one to ever be? Have I not yet told you how it was formed? Well, it’s as good a story as any.
By Susanna Kiernan3 years ago in Fiction
Where the Birds Go. Runner-Up in Mythmaker Challenge.
Clara, a six-year-old girl, stands by the window of the little log house she and her family lives in watching the snowfall. Papa's in the barn, tending to the animals. But as she stares into the skies and into the bare branches of the trees, something occurs to her.
By Sarah Glass3 years ago in Fiction
Summer Stock. Runner-Up in Mythmaker Challenge.
In front of Calix was a small round table. Not a true kitchen table, it was the sort people kept in the corners of cabins or small, rustic homes. One for quick card games and wine cups. He wasn’t homeless. He had this abandoned barn. Not every shade of the paint matched exactly, but it was red. Close enough. Calix was bent over the diorama on the table. He liked to think of these dioramas as plays.
By Matthew Daniels3 years ago in Fiction
