She had come to the edge of the valley where an asperous fortress of rock stood before her. No one else dared come here, and perhaps that is why she felt so at peace in such an ominous part of the valley. “It is oddly quiet. More quiet than usual.” She whispered as she realized that there was no howling or grumbling from the terrifying creatures that ruled these walls. She was puzzled, and a bit unsettled by this. As she looked up into the deepening mist of the valley, an electrifying chill pulsed through her veins.
About the Creator
A. P. Cooper
I write. Point. Blank. Period. It’s what I know. It’s where I live. It’s who I am. So if you really want to get to know me, read what I write.
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Her Solitude
She walked out the front door of her cabin and stepped into the cold, gray air. She took this lonesome walk every “night”. Though in such a place as this, there is no night. There is no day. Only a gray mist haunting the air. This was her time. Her moment to truly be alone and go where she felt most comfortable outside the pages of a book. Away from her sister and the village people she had nothing in common with, she could be her full self. She understood she didn’t belong with them. Or with people in general.
By A. P. Cooperabout a year ago in Fiction
Forced Compliance Not Necessary
Some people knew this would happen. The chips in our heads, I mean. Everyone laughed. Isn't that funny? The crazy part: even the conspiracy nuts had a mobile phone. Everyone walked around with the "chip" glued to their hand, eyes glued to chip.
By L.C. Schäfer4 days ago in Fiction
Seasons
I shiver as I pull open the heavy glass door and step out onto the frost-riddled porch. My breath rises like smoke in the cold, and the rushing of the creek fills my ears. Nearby, as I walk toward the gate, I hear the beavers splash in alarm as they sense my presence. I bury my hands deep in the pockets of my thin hoodie, and hunch my shoulders up protectively against my ears. The cold air bites at my cheeks and nose, and the tips of my ears already hurt. It’s barely 30° out, and beneath my foolishly bare toes, the dead brown grass twinkles with frost. The sky is too overcast to see the stars there, but with so many ice-stars beneath my feet, I am satisfied.
By ThatOne_Girl4 days ago in Fiction
Tales of the Aurora Borealis
Who knew a solar storm could be so beautiful? Purples, reds, and greens shimmering in our skies like dancing ribbons. Hypnotic and enchanting, the Northern Lights have had us humans in complete awe for centuries. Which got me thinking, what did our ancestors think of the Aurora Borealis?
By Rosie J. Sargent7 days ago in FYI
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