Excerpt
Guild of Nightmares
P The light was quickly fading, night fast approaching, and with the dark the Nightmares would surely follow. I ran. I had been stupid, leaving it so late to travel back. I should have stayed in the town, or found a travelling companion. But people would wonder, especially at the unusual cloak and net mask. No, this was my own fault, my stupiditiveness. Oh my, now I’m making up words, I thought to myself.
Morgan Christy RickardsPublished 3 years ago in FictionA Soul for a Kingdom
The king walked into the prison wearing a long, hooded cloak. His mission today was not exactly official royal business. He stalked past the guards-a few that he trusted to keep his dealings quite. Or, at least, he trusted that their greed would keep them quiet, so long as he bribed them properly. He was king. Bribes were of little consequence to him.
Kristen SladePublished 3 years ago in FictionProject M.A.R.A.
As his eyes tried to open he could feel the intense pain all over his body. The ringing in his ears was incessant. He struggled to grab a coherent thought from the cloudy confusion in his mind. Was it really that smoky or was he losing his sight on top of everything else? He was screaming or at least he thought he was, "Mara!!! Mara!!! Where are you?" He knew he was yelling for her but he couldn't hear a sound. The panic was beginning to take over. What had happened, why did everything hurt so much, why couldn't he see her, she had been right there, right in front of him. He knew it just as sure as he knew his own name, she had been just a few feet in front of him, that sweet gentle smile, those kind beautiful green eyes, and her long black hair ever so slightly blowing across her face in the gentle April breeze. Just seeing her standing there waiting for him made him feel as though his life finally had a purpose and meaning.
Kandi EvansPublished 3 years ago in FictionOrnaments of Power
It has been years since I entered this one’s domain. A pitiful thing, striving for things so far beyond its reach. Never quite satisfied with the work they did, working harder for things that should have been better for those they led. They should have known corruption like any other facet of nature is unyielding, and ultimately deadly.
Isabella CamposPublished 3 years ago in FictionToo Many Musings of the Apocalypse
It's been a long three weeks! As someone who devoured dystopian novels circa 2010-2012, Vocal's Doomsday Diary challenges—in partnership with Unbound—seemed right up my alley. I managed to scour my ideas and write 20 short stories of varying apocalyptic scenarios. (And, yes, I had to call back a few for edits because I forget to include the heart-shaped locket, the key detail required for all entries.)
Jillian SpiridonPublished 3 years ago in FictionAsteria
The sun rises slowly over the gloomy structures of Segment Two. The buildings are so vast and numerous that they span across the land as far as everyone that lives there can see. No-one has been beyond them. For years, everyone has been told that there exists a vast and dangerous swamp full of strange and humongous creatures beyond their outer edges. This knowledge has trickled down from each generation, so it is now a fact that no-one disputes. The buildings that litter this segment are so dark that the natural light that now creeps over them creates shadows of infinite despair. It is a place of such darkness, that the orange morning light only accentuates this, and offers little relief. Not a sound can be heard, but it is not peaceful. This silence hangs in the air with force, with weight. It is thick with dread. Fear and terror blow through the dim and soundless streets. The countless shiny exteriors glint ominously in the growing glow of colour.
Blood in the Water
Her skin was sticky with sweat and blood. The afternoon heat mixed with the smell of the salty sea beyond the treeline didn’t cover the smell of her sweat or the blood on her arms. At least there is rain, she thought as she slipped down the trail. You could see her footprints making long grooves in the mud as she tried to keep her balance. She was tired of covering her tracks. There was no one left to find them anymore anyway. Damn them if they did.
Alisha ChristensenPublished 3 years ago in FictionThe Locket
He picked up the glass and took a sip grimacing slightly at the taste. In his hand sat a heart-shaped locket, the only clue to the past life he could not remember. He pressed the gem in the center and the recording stored inside played in front of him. A beautiful woman with long dark hair smiled up at him, her carefree face, and bright blue eyes alight with it. A blond-haired child, a girl he thought barely more than a year or two, toddled around giggling. The image of the child turned and faced him, her bright blue eyes full of life, "I yuh you, dada" she giggled as she ran unsteadily back to the woman who scooped her up and held her in her lap. "We love you,” the woman said, “come home to us.” Though her smile never dimmed, there was sadness that accompanied her plea. Then the image faded and disappeared waiting until he chose to play it again. A wave of agony ran through him. He had no memory of the woman or child, but deep inside he knew he was the one for whom the message had been left.
Roland DurendalPublished 3 years ago in FictionEmpty Hands
Jay “How far are we gonna run?” Brad tripped on his own feet. His breath was visible in the cold air. “We run till we physically can’t anymore.” Mel, who’d been taking up the rear, shoved past him. “Got it!”
Oliver KippPublished 3 years ago in FictionA Solar Oydessy
It’s been a long time since I’ve been really afraid of dying. In my, almost five billion years alive, death is still a certainty. Just not by old age anymore. Science once improved so much that medicine allowed the body to decay slower, and last as long as the heart is still beating.
S. M. RisdonPublished 3 years ago in FictionA Fox Went Out And I Still Remember
An old folk song from England speaks of a weary fox, out collecting food for his family. The song, originally a poem, dates back at least 500 years and is quite adorable. I'm not sure how common the song is in America, but I remember it from my childhood. I do know that the poem and song are popular enough that they've been turned into picture books for children. The Fox Went Out on a Chilly Night: an old song, illustrated by Peter Spier and Fox Went out on a Chilly Night, by Wendy Watson. Spier was a Dutch-American illustrator and writer who produced over two dozen children's books. He sadly passed away in 2017. Meanwhile, Watson is a third-generation author and artist, and member of the Authors Guild.
Daniel GoldmanPublished 3 years ago in FictionA Different World
Part 3 Mia didn’t think when she got the Heart-shaped locket where it would lead her to. “Let’s get to it Mia,” John remarked. “This has just become extremely intriguing”. “I’d like that John, I’m feeling somewhat nervous though”. According to what Granddad wrote we have to stand facing the heat so the only thing I can think of is the fireplace. And the red and white could mean blood cells or the dark red bricks and off white mortar, and the hearth is the bottom part of the fireplace”. What do you think John? Could that be it”?
Graeme WaddellPublished 3 years ago in Fiction