A thick fog rolled over the dense wood, twisting in between the trees, as if it were snakes searching for prey. Touching each leaf and stone, discarding droplets of icy cold water on every surface or touched. These veins of cool mist slithered to a clearing, where they wrapped around a small shack.
The shack sat alone, no other structure for miles, nothing but the woods. The fog surrounded this shack at all times, no matter the weather outside the wood. The wooden walls of the shack groaned in the still, otherwise silent clearing. A dim blue light glowed from between the boards.
Inside, crudely built furniture was pressed against the walls. A bed, a small table with a stool, and an uneven bookshelf. The bookshelf held no actual books, only some odds and ends one could find in the woods - oddly shaped rocks, bits of dried wood, and such. Scraps of cloth stuffed between the wall boards closest the bed in an attempt to contain some of the warmth. On this bed huddled a small figure, wrapped in loose fitting clothes, and shivering. This is May.
About the Creator
Keep reading
More stories from Meg Sloane and writers in Fiction and other communities.
In The Dark Of The Night
"The city's most popular reporter Janna Teed was reported missing when she didn't show up to her oldest daughter's wedding yesterday. Her daughter told us she was supposed to be there first thing yesterday morning to help prepare her for the event. When her daughter went to Teed's house an hour or so before the wedding she found the front door broken down and what appeared to be evidence of a robbery. After calling the police and aiding them to the best of her ability, it was determined that Teed had been taken from her home in the early morning hours of yesterday. There was a sign of forced entry, broken belongings everywhere, and a small amount of blood was found in the bedroom. Police believe Teed is alive, due to the small amount of blood present, but are unsure how long she has to live."
By Meg Sloaneabout a year ago in Fiction
The Ugliest Building
Mark Twain called the building I work in, “The ugliest building in America.” I agree. The Dwight D. Eisenhower Executive Office Building isn’t the largest in Washington, D.C., but its imposing façade makes it feel like it is. I work for the Office of E-Government and Information Technology. I have a satellite office in the bowels of this monstrosity. Working in this building gives us quick access to both the President and Vice-President because they also have offices here. This access may be why I’m in this situation, or maybe it’s the project I’m assigned to, or both.
By Mark Gagnon7 days ago in Fiction
The Gift Of Dreams.
In a little town settled between moving slopes and lavish vegetation, there carried on with a young lady named Maya. Maya's family was poor, yet her fantasies were rich with yearnings. Her dad worked enthusiastically as a rancher to accommodate the family, while her mom kept an eye on their unobtrusive home and cared for Maya and her more youthful kin.
By borsha afrin3040 minutes ago in Fiction
Comments (2)
Instead of writing "or touched", it may read better as "it touched" I knew you would be a good writer. Keep it up!
This is a fantastic introduction to what I hope will be an amazing adventure.