Adventure

The Dreamholders of Tessarna
Beyond the snowy slopes of the twin Plardo-Tylno Peaks with their ruby caps, across the Sea of Fiery Tamarinds where the trees grow out of the purple reefs to spray burning spores into the wind. Between the River Endurib’s wide delta that meanders aimlessly around the Plain of Milisino licking the plain’s fields of golden grass, and the sharp obsidian blades of the Wicklaure Mountains where the Dwerrow mine for diamonds and cut obsidian blades. At the centre of the vast and ancient Empire of Tessarna that is ruled by the mighty Lord of the City, Divine Emperor of the Manifold Blades, the Emperor-God Thah-Rast who has ruled there for ten thousand generations. There sits the many-spired citadel of Chega-Toleh, where the streets are limned in purple banners of silk and the paving stones are green marble laced with threads of gold brought up from the sea by the sixteen mighty hands of titanic Thah-Rast. Here the Guild of Dweomercraefters makes its magical vessels to store up dreams in captured form to be experienced again and again by whosoever seeks them. Dreams small and large, pleasant and horrible, all manner of dreams they ensnare in the delicate glass vessels and sell to the highest bidder.
By Samuel Wright7 months ago in Fiction
Magic - Chapter Two
Author's note: Today, my stream of consciousness flows easily without having to think through the story. Therefore, I am letting my subconscious do the work. I am writing this after writing the following, which you will soon read, and I want to mention that everything I have written so far is purely from my subconscious mind. I have not planned the plot, especially what will happen in today's chapter; you will wonder if I have planned this particular incident. The answer is 'No, I have not'. To be honest, it just came into my mind rather abruptly as I was writing, and that's how the subconscious usually works. I hope you understand what I am saying. If you don't, I recommend you read the book The Power of Your Subconscious Mind by Joseph Murphy.
By Denise Larkin7 months ago in Fiction
The Painting That Aged Instead of Her 🎨
THE PORTRAIT IN THE ATTIC 🖼️ When renowned artist Julian Reeves painted his girlfriend Celeste's portrait during the summer of 2019, he did not intend to create anything supernatural or extraordinary, just an oil painting of the woman he loved captured in the golden light of their Brooklyn apartment during the happiest period of their relationship, but the painting which took three months to complete and which Julian considered his finest work developed a quality that neither of them could explain and that would eventually destroy their relationship and transform their understanding of love, beauty, and the terrible cost of trying to preserve something that is meant to change 🎨
By The Curious Writer7 months ago in Fiction
The Café
Every Customer Gets One Visit and One Question Answered THE DOOR BETWEEN WORLDS 🚪 The café appears on different streets in different cities on different nights, never in the same location twice, and the people who find it are always people who are about to face the most significant decision of their lives though they do not always know this when they walk through the door drawn by the warm light and the smell of coffee that is better than any coffee they have ever experienced and by something else, something they cannot name but that feels like recognition, like the café has been waiting specifically for them even though they have never seen it before and will never see it again because the café grants each person only one visit and during that visit they are served a meal that tastes exactly like the most meaningful meal of their life, the meal that represents their deepest happiness, and they are allowed to ask one question that will be answered truthfully by the proprietor, a woman of indeterminate age who seems to know everything about everyone who walks through her door 🌙
By The Curious Writer7 months ago in Fiction
The Leprechaun in the Basement
The scratching started three nights before St. Patrick’s Day. At first, the homeowner assumed it was mice. The house was old, built sometime in the 1940s, with narrow crawlspaces beneath the living room floor. Small animals getting in wasn’t unusual. The sound came in short bursts—scratching, dragging, then silence.
By V-Ink Stories7 months ago in Fiction
Above From Below Part 5
Rick was dressed and ready to go, after a much needed rest at a local hotel. It was one of those cash by the hour joints, or by the week, as the case was. It served Rick well enough since it had a shower, a toilet, and a sink with running water. There was an ice machine at the end of the structure, and across the street was a greasy diner. Overall, he'd been forced to spend time in worse placed than this.
By Jason Morton7 months ago in Fiction
The Woman
Every Handshake Delivered a Flavor She Couldn't Ignore THE GIFT NOBODY WANTED 🎁 Nora Kim discovered her ability on her seventh birthday when her grandmother hugged her and she tasted cinnamon and honey so strongly that she searched the room for cookies before realizing that the flavors were coming from the embrace itself, from the warmth and love that her grandmother radiated through physical contact, and this was the beginning of a life lived through a sense that nobody believed existed and that transformed every human interaction into a gustatory experience that could be beautiful or revolting depending on the emotional state of the person touching her. Handshakes with strangers tasted like water, neutral and forgettable, but handshakes with people harboring hidden anger tasted like burnt metal, and the embrace of a friend who secretly resented her tasted like spoiled milk despite the smile on the friend's face, and this constant involuntary translation of human emotion into flavor meant that Nora could never be deceived about how someone truly felt about her because their body chemistry communicated through her tongue what their words and expressions might conceal 🍯
By The Curious Writer7 months ago in Fiction
The Library
A Librarian's Secret That Has Been Hidden for a Hundred Years THE DOOR THAT SHOULDN'T EXIST 🚪 Maya Santos had worked as the evening librarian at the Thornfield Public Library for three years without noticing the door behind the reference section, a door that blended so perfectly with the oak paneling that it was invisible unless you were standing at exactly the right angle in exactly the right light, and she only discovered it on a Thursday evening in December when she dropped her phone and watched it slide across the floor and stop against a door frame that she had walked past thousands of times without ever seeing 📱
By The Curious Writer7 months ago in Fiction
Charlie’s Story (Change is inevitable)
This is a short story about how one little seahorse adapted to the continual changes in his environment caused by ocean pollution.
By Calvin London7 months ago in Fiction
We Conquered the Moon. Then We Never Went Back. Nobody Talks About Why.
We are not a species that knows how to stop. When human beings find a raging ocean, we build ships of iron to conquer it. When we hit the frozen, lethal wasteland of Antarctica, we build research stations on the ice. We map the Mariana Trench. We summit Everest until there is a traffic jam at the peak. It is the fundamental, undeniable law of human nature to push relentlessly into the unknown until the unknown simply belongs to us. But the Moon was different. We touched it. We walked on its gray, lifeless dust. We drove rovers across its craters, hit golf balls in its low gravity, and left our footprints perfectly preserved in the vacuum. And then, in December 1972, Apollo 17 Commander Eugene Cernan climbed back into the lunar module, the engines fired, and we abruptly turned our backs on the stars. We stayed home for fifty years. The official narrative of this half-century of silence is boring, bureaucratic, and perfectly safe. Historians and space agencies tell us it was merely a matter of shifting political winds. They say the Cold War space race was won, the budgets were slashed, the public lost interest, and the money was better spent on low-Earth orbit projects like the ISS. But if you sit alone in the quiet hours of the night and truly think about it, that explanation begins to feel terrifyingly hollow. You do not mobilize the greatest scientific minds in human history, build a Saturn V rocket taller than a 36-story building, cross 240,000 miles of lethal cosmic radiation, achieve the impossible, and then just... stop. You do not abandon the greatest frontier in human history because of a budget meeting. Unless, of course, something up there quietly suggested that we should. That haunting, persistent whisper has circulated through the dark corners of our culture for decades. It is a question that NASA has systematically, almost aggressively, tried to answer with rigid physics and basic photography. Why did the flag wave? Rotational energy in a vacuum. Why were there no stars in the photos? Camera exposure settings. How did they survive the Van Allen radiation belts? Speed and aluminum shielding. The math works. The science is airtight. And yet, doubt does not live in a laboratory. Doubt lives in the human imagination, and the imagination cannot ignore the men who actually went into the void. Look at the men who came back from the Apollo missions. Look at Edgar Mitchell, the Apollo 14 astronaut who walked on the lunar surface, who spent the latter years of his life speaking openly and earnestly about government cover-ups and unidentified phenomena. Look at Gordon Cooper, one of the original Mercury astronauts, who wrote in his own autobiography about unexplained aerial encounters that were actively buried by authorities. These were not armchair conspiracy theorists typing in basements. These were men of rigorous science, test pilots with ice in their veins, men who had looked directly into the cosmic abyss. Did they see something in that absolute darkness that fundamentally broke their understanding of reality? For fifty years, the Moon hung in our night sky not as a destination, but as a locked door. But on the evening of April 1, 2026, humanity finally decided to put the key back in the lock. At exactly 6:35 PM Eastern Time, the ground at the Kennedy Space Center violently shook. A blinding column of fire tore through the Florida sky, carrying the Space Launch System—the most terrifyingly powerful machine humanity has ever constructed. Aboard the Orion spacecraft, named Integrity, four human beings were violently hurled beyond the safe, comforting boundaries of our atmosphere. Commander Reid Wiseman’s voice crackled over the radio, piercing through the deafening roar of the rocket engines: "We go for all of humanity." Sitting beside him are Christina Koch, Victor Glover, and Canadian astronaut Jeremy Hansen. They are carrying the weight of a completely new era. For the next ten days, they are trapped in a pressurized metal canister on a free-return trajectory, pushing further into the deep black than any human being has ever ventured. They are expected to surpass the haunting distance record set by the crippled Apollo 13 mission over five decades ago. Inside that capsule, they are surviving on recycled air and engineered water. They are strapped to resistance machines for thirty minutes a day, pulling against 400 pounds of force just to keep their bones from dissolving in the microgravity. They are testing life-support systems while millions of people on Earth watch them through glowing smartphone screens, mesmerized by the live YouTube feeds. But if you look closely at the mission profile, you will notice what they are not doing. They are not landing. Artemis II is a flyby. They are going all the way to the Moon, crossing a quarter-million miles of dead space, skimming the dark side of the lunar surface, and coming right back to Earth. It is a reconnaissance mission. A systems test. It feels less like a bold, triumphant conquest and more like someone carefully tiptoeing up to the bed of a sleeping giant, gently tapping it with a stick, and holding their breath to see if it wakes up. NASA tells us this is just the necessary proving ground. They assure the public that this is merely the stepping stone for the Artemis III landing planned for 2028, and eventually, the great, glorious push to establish a base on Mars. They are live-streaming the interior of the Orion capsule, offering us an illusion of total transparency. We can watch the astronauts float, smile, and participate in cheerful downlinks with mission control in Houston. But as you watch those live feeds, as you see the absolute, crushing blackness of space outside the thick glass of their small windows, you cannot help but feel a primal shiver down your spine. The greatest mystery of the Moon was never about whether the 1969 landing was filmed on a Hollywood soundstage. The real mystery is the deafening silence that followed it. Right now, four human beings are floating in the exact same void that silenced our ambitions for half a century. They are out there, completely disconnected from the Earth, relying on thin metal walls and complex math to keep the darkness out. We are finally going back. We are knocking on the door again. Let us just hope that, this time, nothing answers.
By Wellova 7 months ago in Fiction
The Sound of Summer Running
Summer is a season full of life, energy, and happiness. One of the most beautiful experiences of this season is the simple joy of running. The sound of summer running is not just about footsteps on the ground—it is about freedom, excitement, and the feeling of being alive.
By aadam khan7 months ago in Fiction
The Secret I Hid for Years Finally Came Out. Content Warning.
For most of my life, I was known as the “strong one.” The reliable friend. The responsible sibling. The quiet overachiever who never complained.
By imtiazalam7 months ago in Fiction