Adventure
The Little Moles of Gransberg
Prologue Croak. The toad sat along the perimeter of the marsh. It watched for any movement along the waters edge as its eyes darted in every direction almost simultaneously like a chameleon, all the while croaking every second at its post along the water’s edge. Croak. The toad’s eyes locked onto a movement in the distance- bubbles underwater moving closer. It hopped into the water, ready to swim towards the nearest crevice, away from the unknown predator.
By David S. JohnsonWilliams10 days ago in Fiction
Void Voyage
It's a dark and stormy night. You think to yourself, "Isn't it ALWAYS a dark and stormy night just before something weird happens?" Then you laugh at the silliness of the idea. Still, you're no dummy. These kinds of storms always lead to a power outage and a stifling case of boredom, so this time - you're prepared. You have your trusty TAD 3000 Tablet, an external battery pack for extra power, and a ton of books downloaded. You settle down in your favorite recliner, place a refreshing beverage on the side table, and listen to the wind and rain for a moment. The storm is really kicking up out there, but you feel like you've done all you can to prepare. Now it’s time to settle down into a good book. You power-up your TAD 3000 and in just a few seconds, you are looking at your huge library of e-books, broken out into categories. Your favorite categories are at the top, and they each seem like a good way to pass the time. You have horror novels, science fiction, sword and sandal stuff, detective novels, spy books, a couple of risqué romance novels you promised to read and review for a friend, and even a cookbook at your disposal. You consider your mood and choose.
By Noel T. Cumberland11 days ago in Fiction
The Adventures of Ethel & Franklin: Birthday Scare
It’s Friday evening, October 9th. Today is Ethel’s daughter, Macy’s birthday. Ethel’s best friend Franklin has just arrived at Ethel’s house for Macy’s birthday party. “Ethel? Macy? Where y’all at-” before Franklin could finish he slipped on a bouncy ball at the front door. “Well dang you uncoordinated heffa.” Ethel joked. “How the hell did you just slip and fall over nothing?”
By Joe Patterson11 days ago in Fiction
Moment of respite
You shouldn't turn here, but there was no other way to break away from the crowd for at least a five-minute break and give your eyes a rest with a bit of green grass and plants. You walked straight ahead; the buildings all around were shades of gray. You couldn’t see anyone behind or in front of you, as if this whole space were suddenly meant just for you—this time, this moment. Suddenly, you felt as if this were it— that’s exactly how you feel freedom—that’s exactly how you feel and experience true silence and relief, as if hope had suddenly come to life right at that moment—from the complete dim into an incredible abyss that transports your thoughts to a completely different world and reality—something very close and familiar to you, but only beginning to take shape for a while—just for a moment—just a few times in your life, you’ve felt this thing that you couldn’t quite put into words, but you knew exactly what it was, and despite the immense weight emanating from the buildings and the vastness of the city and the people all around you in that space, you were completely free. That moment of respite—that was it. Suddenly, someone started talking to you; who it was, you don’t know—you didn’t see them, you only heard a voice, as if coming straight from you, from that space—both known and unknown—and also from this new one just coming into being. That voice seemed to have been waiting for you right there, in that passageway across from the hotel in the city center called Mestre; out of the sort of silence of the gray walls, that voice appeared That voice was familiar to you; it aroused neither fear nor uncertainty—as if you had been waiting for it for a long time, but it had never appeared before.
By Antea Lumina Kala Matylda 11 days ago in Fiction
But the Door was Unlocked...
You peer in through the streaked window, shading your eyes to cut the glare. It is dark inside, and filled with shadowy shapes: a box here, a sheet-covered chair there, a dusty velvet curtain with a cobweb-festooned tassel that had once been gold. You peer upward toward the shadowy ceiling, and catch the glint of a chandelier. It is huge, and golden, and not alone, hanging from that high, ornate ceiling. There are at least three, all in a row, all once-beautiful remnants of a grand time gone by. You try to catch a glimpse of the walls, but they are too far off in the gloom.
By Laura DePace12 days ago in Fiction
Stitch. The lore of Sara Foxgrave.
The neon glare of the diner vanished in a flash of black and chrome as Sara throttled the Triumph out onto the main road. The storm wasn't letting up. It slammed straight into her chest—a wall of freezing water and biting wind that would have forced most riders to pull over. But Sara just tucked her chin lower into the collar of her heavy leather jacket, her boots locked tight against the pegs. Letting her helmet take the blasts.
By Syl De'Vil12 days ago in Fiction
Stitch. The lore of Sara Foxgrave
The night thinned out fast after the rush. A few regulars left early, muttering about the storm rolling in. Bane was one of them. He slipped out without fanfare, without lingering, just a nod toward Josh and a last glance at Sara that she pretended not to notice.
By Syl De'Vil12 days ago in Fiction
