Adventure

Vestae. The Legend of the Iron Maiden
Under the faint and flickering candlelight, the pages of the book lie empty except for a scattering of letters. They have remained blank for more time than they should and shall soon be stained by a swan’s feather, doused in jet black ink. This feather will be controlled by my hand, admittedly unworthy of the purpose for which it is intended: to tell a story of a woman whose bravery, determination and fortitude were so great, greater than that of any woman to ever have been born in the vast history of Vestae, so great that it would be a truly remarkable feat for, in the future, another woman to be born quite like her.
By R. Palacios4 years ago in Fiction
The Adventures of Ka'Lael
1. Beep. Beep. Beep. A mother's biggest wish, having a little angel come into the world. Her husband ran his hands through his hair as he waited for the nurses to come back. Happiness and nervousness covered his face as he stared down at the marble white floor, just wondering what his life is going to be like with a baby boy. He never would've thought to have kids,this all came unexpectedly, but everything is going to be okay.Sounds of the loud heart monitor filled the room as she laid in the hospital bed,waiting for the nurses to come back with her newborn. After what seemed like a few minutes, two nurses came slowly into the room with one holding an adorable angel very carefully in her arms. The sound of crying and screaming began to flood the room from the precious baby as the nurse moved towards the mother.
By Lanaeshae Davis4 years ago in Fiction
The Survivors
Surviving until the third hungry night, Noni pinned his eyes on the dog. There was no flesh and blood left on this drifting Iceland, except for the towering icebergs, just the two of them. In that crash, Noni lost his sled, his food, his leather jacket, even his sharp knife. He saved only his beloved hound, Ninook. Today, one man and one dog are trapped on Iceland, maintaining a certain distance and watching each other intently. Noni's past doting on Ninuk is absolutely real, as real as the hunger of the moment, the etching cold of the night and the pain that gnaws at that injured foot. But didn't the people back home also slaughter their dogs to feed their bellies in the wilderness years? Didn't they? They did it without even thinking about it. He told himself that when hunger comes to an end, must be for food, "one of us is destined to be killed by the other," thought Noni, "so ......" he could not kill the dog with his bare hands. The dog. Ninook is far more fierce and powerful than he is. At the moment, he desperately needed a weapon. Taking off his gloves, he removed the bandage from his leg. A few weeks ago, he had injured his leg and had tied it with some rope and three iron plates. He knelt on the ground, inserted a piece of iron plate into the thin crevice of the ice, and rubbed hard with another piece of iron on it. Ninook concentrated on watching him. Noni seemed to feel the gleaming eyes, and emitted a more and more blazing light. He continued to work, and tried to make himself forget its purpose. The sheet iron now had an edge on one side, and sharpened more and more, the sun rose just as he finished the work. Noni pulled the newly sharpened knife out of the ice and rubbed the blade with his thumb. The sun's rays, reflected from the blade, almost made him dazzled for a moment. Noni made himself completely cruel.
By Jackmama4 years ago in Fiction
Escaped Demons
There were’nt always dragons in the valley. There used to be a time when I had control of these thoughts… these demons… these dragons in my mind.
By Vincent P. Terry4 years ago in Fiction
The Girl In A Yellow Dress: Part 2
The brunette chuckles at him before putting her beanie back on. “That was pretty impressive,” she comments. The blonde looks around and notices how much more empty the area looked without rocks lying everywhere.
By Gloria Michael 4 years ago in Fiction
The Variation of Speed
As long as people who have read newspapers and television, or often go out of the country know, now the traffic is becoming more and more developed, especially the train in the six times after the speed increase, it will give people the convenience of thousands of miles between the morning and evening, so that I often think of Li Bai's poem "a thousand miles Jiangling a day back" mood.
By moladda4 years ago in Fiction
The last river
Once again, I came to the town in the late afternoon in the spring breeze. Dense clouds were coalescing in the western sky, and the sun was shining through its gaps, painting the town's largest intersection with a stream of vehicles of all colors in a golden glow, like a Buddhist scene. When the green light came on across the street, I cautiously crossed the national highway to the sidewalk on the east side of the provincial highway. A refreshing coolness reminded me that the Back River was at my feet. As the name of the Back River prompted me to imagine the flowing waterfall and the lush forest, my mind wrapped itself around its subtext, such as "jade ribbon" or myrrh.
By BlossomParker4 years ago in Fiction
The frozen rice candy
In the waxing moon, farm work in the fields is idle, and folks begin to organize things for the New Year. The smell of New Year in the countryside gradually becomes stronger.
By BobBam4 years ago in Fiction
The Margin of the film
When I was a sophomore in college, the teacher who taught us foreign literature was a recent graduate student and my hometown friend from the same county. He offered an elective course, Film Literature. At that time, there were very few students enrolled, only three of us enrolled, and I was one of them.
By BobBam4 years ago in Fiction
The jasmine flowers on the tea table
That night and my wife from my uncle's house to have a good dinner together on the way home, see the farmers' market entrance of the flower and tree store full of a variety of new arrival of flowers and trees. A few young people are attached to the light to select a few pots of jasmine and gardenia. We hadn't arrived yet, but we could already smell the jasmine scent wafting over, and my wife first shouted in surprise: "Jasmine!" .
By BobBam4 years ago in Fiction
Lillo Favia, "Come meta il viaggio"
Everything can be said about Lillo Favia’s “As a destination the journey”, except that it is not original. Not for the content — which is still a male story of sex, drugs and rock and roll — but rather for the style. Usually texts of this kind, in the wake of the various Kerouack, Bukowski, Carver etc, which rage in today’s fiction produced by males aged twenty and over, are written in a “postmodern” language full of vulgarity, now standardized to the point of becoming anonymous. Lillo Favia’s novel, on the other hand, plays with words and carries out in-depth research, not for nothing he defines himself as a “language mechanic”. The narration makes use of a prose that flows into poetry, often alternating with it. Favia leaves nothing to chance and the stylistic analysis becomes existential.
By Patrizia Poli4 years ago in Fiction
The Spring Scenery
Chinese people seem to prefer spring in the four seasons of the year, after a winter of freezing snow, it is easy to get through to the warmth of the day, and the heart seems to be more alive. If spring is compared to a painting, then I am afraid it is not suitable for the whole picture, to appreciate spring, it is necessary to take out each scene individually, in order to taste the flavor.
By Jackmama4 years ago in Fiction