Fable
The Hole
1 ▐ In the dead of night, in the valley of the lords, the great tower was nearing its completion. Thousands of slaves had marched through dark black soot and singed their feet on molten rock to bring bricks of indestructible stone from the depths of the black mines. The stones which were formed with thousands of pounds of pressure in the womb of the earth were used for the base of the tower. They were the only material strong enough to hold its weight. Once the base was complete the slaves went about piling one level after another onto its frame until after what seemed like years of torturous labor the tower had reached the clouds and their work had neared its end.
By Heroic Studios9 days ago in Fiction
The Luminarch and the Sovereign
"Yesterday left me with a moment I couldn’t shake, so I wrote it down the only way I know how — straight from my heart and soul. This piece is a simple reflection on what I saw, what I felt, and what stayed with me afterward. It’s not about visuals or effects; it’s just the story itself and the truth that rose up while I was writing it. THIS STORY IS FROM MY BRAIN. MYTHICAL, DREAMY, AND WRITTEN IN METAPHORS AND CHARACTERS OF LIGHT."
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli 10 days ago in Fiction
The Hotel That Remembered Everyone
The hotel had been closed for twenty-three years. So why did someone keep leaving fresh flowers outside my room? I first noticed them on a Tuesday morning, three days after checking into the Blackwood Hotel. A dozen white roses rested against my door, their petals glistening with water. Beneath them lay a small envelope bearing my name.
By Behind the Curtain14 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'Vil16 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'Vil16 days ago in Fiction
Ekaterinburg is Your Best Bet!
Putin died and was buried in St.Petersburg, his native city. A Russian political dissident who'd been driven out of the country for fear of persecution comes to a travel agent and says, "Please help me find a ticket to St.Petersburg, Russia. I tried to book it myself but everything seems to have been sold out for a year."
By Lana V Lynx17 days ago in Fiction
