Fantasy

An Arboreal Nightmare
Introduction This is an almost frightening illustration by Arthur Rackham, shared by The Enchanted Booklet on Facebook. The full explanation can be found in the link, but the words on the picture are from a Somerset folk poem/
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred about 4 hours ago in Chapters
Stitch: The Lore of Sara Foxgrave
The gray autumn chill settled deep into the Foxgrave woods, turning the leaves to brittle rust and giving Sara a perfect excuse to stay out of the lake water. She did not have time for distractions anyway. Halloween was a week away, and around her place, October 31st was treated with the kind of frantic, obsessive reverence most people saved for Christmas.
By Syl De'Vilabout 13 hours ago in Chapters
Shadow Parasite
Avea let go; her heart stopped, falling between the many rows of teeth. Everything went still as she caught a glimpse of the bare sky; it seemed to ignore her terrified gaze. Trust was like sand; you couldn’t hold too much of it, or it would start slipping through your fingers. That was what she’d done, desperately scooping more and more sand into her arms, trying to keep it all from slipping away. As Neomon faded from view, she realised that the tiny granules of hope that the Umbratus claimed wouldn’t betray her, that they were truly allies, were slipping through her calloused fingers.
By KEATAa day ago in Chapters
The Teeth of the Soil.
The humming didn't stop after that evening. If anything, it grew bolder. At first, Priscilla told herself she was imagining it.
By Syl De'Vil2 days ago in Chapters
The Teeth of the Top Soil
Caleb Raken had not slept through the night in almost 6 years. At forty-four, he was too old to blame it on nightmares. Too old to blame it on monsters.
By Syl De'Vil2 days ago in Chapters
The Graveyard Hotel
I sat up in bed, the vision of seeing myself weak and struggling to reach for a glass of water, a simple task, still vivid in my mind. A chill ran through me. Was it real? If it wasn’t a dream, then what was it? I glanced around the room and felt as though I was second guessing whether I was even real. The luxurious feel of the sheets. The soft carpet beneath my feet. The smooth feel of the emerald green dress I wore. It all felt as real as anything.
By Jasmine Aguilar3 days ago in Chapters
The Valiant Oberon Pendragon and His Less Handsome Sidekick 1.1
My first thought when I met Oberon Pendragon was that the man was a prick. His expensive silver mirror reflected a practiced smile as he smoothed any flyaways from his well-tended blonde curls. Purple velvet coated his frame and he even had spotless white trousers. Hardly practical for a traveling knight. Of course, he spotted me just as the grimace crossed my face and I hastily blanked my expression. His blue eyes tracked over me in a blatant assessment that ended with him snapping his compact mirror shut and turning to me with open arms. "Rabastan," he grinned. "My new squire, I presume." "It's Rat," I corrected. "That's not… short for anything?" I shook my head. His smile faltered, but he rallied in seconds. "Rat, my good man," he clapped a hand on my shoulder with surprising force for a man with crow's feet and a frame that could only be described as petite. "Let's get a good, hot meal and a night at the inn to start our partnership off on the right foot. My treat, of course." My second thought as he led us, joking and chattering at me on the way, to the local tavern was that maybe he wasn't so bad. I was wrong, of course. Dinner consisted of a bowl of hot stew and two hours of Oberon earnestly advising me to change my name. When I couldn't stand it any longer, I stood in the middle of his latest argument against my name and lifted my empty bowl, eyeing his cold, half-eaten dregs. "Are you done?" I gestured at his bowl with mine. "Well…" he poked the congealed remnants with obvious reluctance to continue, then waved away the question. "It's more important we get this name business ironed out. Imagine the songs! 'Oberon and Rat Save the Village?' You might as well forget about brand recognition; no bard is going to put that in a title!" "You're done," I decided with a hint of an edge in my tone, sweeping away his bowl before he could protest. His calls to come back fell on deaf ears as I dropped off our bowls and stalked toward the stairs. "Meet me here tomorrow morning!" He called after me helplessly, shooting the innkeeper a wry smile. "Young men have no patience for a good meal," he told her coyly. Her answering giggle made me shudder at the top step. She'd already told us we were the only patrons tonight and there were just two rooms. It was easy to pick the one closest to the stairs and throw shut the deadbolt with a clunk. I dropped myself into the scratchy bed and fought the urge to scream into my pillow. Just my luck to end up squire to the most self-absorbed knight in the country. Well, less luck and more design, I suppose. After all, I was here for a reason. Being top of my class at the camps had been a point of pride for me. I'd spent so many sleepless nights practicing my form, rereading my two precious books on history and tactics. I'd even pushed through my trouble with numbers with sheer bullheaded determination alone. And I'd done it all on my own. Not that the noble sons and daughters sent there with their families' money would've helped if I asked, but the point was, the accomplishment was all mine. And what did it get me? A late night trip to the captain's strategy tent where he entrusted me with a mission he couldn't give to anyone else. I'd thought it was because I was the best, but after meeting Oberon, I wondered if it was because I was expendable. There wasn't anyone to complain about my treatment but me. Still, I did agree that it needed to be done. Oberon himself had cemented my resolve in that. Furthermore, Captain Gallus had given me this duty himself. Me, of everyone he could have trusted. I fell asleep that night blocking out the sound of Oberon entertaining the middle-aged innkeeper in the room next door and knew I was doing the right thing. I, Rat Jones, solemnly swore to bring down the knight Oberon Pendragon if it was the last thing I'd ever do.
By Corwynna5 days ago in Chapters
Stitch:The Mechanic and the Machine
The men in the barracks kept the rumors churning, but it wasn't out of pity. They were just bitter and restless because a female recruit was moving into their ranks, out-performing them at every turn. They assumed Adam Brodda was riding her hard to force a washout, expecting her to break under the pressure. But they didn't understand Sara. This ruthless, unrelenting grind was exactly what she wanted. At eighteen years old, she was a tactical prodigy, and she had volunteered for the crucible to be turned into an absolute weapon.
By Syl De'Vil8 days ago in Chapters
The Saint Below
Chapter One The Choosing The first bell rang while Mara Veyne was elbow-deep in somebody else's blood. She stopped scrubbing. The water dripped from her fingers as she looked up, blowing a strand of her brown hair from her eyes.
By Aspen Richards9 days ago in Chapters
An End of Gods & Dust: Act X
“Everyone waits for the end .” The last human stood before a god, and the human was angry. The human wasn’t angry that the god hadn’t stopped the deaths of his friends; his makeshift family that was born amongst the black-stained dunes.
By Amanda Starks9 days ago in Chapters
Where the Dream Ends
Dreamscape: The Eyes Beyond the Ridge The dreams began years before Tom ever became a defector. At first they were easy to dismiss.
By Syl De'Vil9 days ago in Chapters
Stitch:The Anatomy of a Traitor
The heat didn't just radiate from the desert floor; it pressed into the hollows of Foxgrave’s collarbone like molten lead. The sky above the valley was a bleached, featureless white, turning the jagged ridges of the dry creek bed into razor-sharp silhouettes. Air this dry didn't let you breathe; it scraped the back of your throat until every inhale tasted like copper and dust.
By Syl De'Vil9 days ago in Chapters