Fable
Rumpelstiltskin: Child Eater
Once upon a time there was a poor kingdom called Douran ruled by a sad and lonely King. His storehouses were bereft of gold, and though he was still in the prime of his youth, he had neither wife nor heir to succeed after him. As a result, his kingdom was governed by fear and darkness. Unrest lived in the hearts of the people and the land was under constant threat of war.
Josephine WinterPublished 3 years ago in FictionDamaged
She was damaged. She had managed to break free of the chains that bound her, but the effort had cost her much. Her left ankle was swollen and bloody, and her left wing was crushed and bruised, making flight impossible.
Dawn HarperPublished 3 years ago in FictionAn Empty Box of Heaven
Doomsday doesn’t usually show up wrapped in brown paper, Astrid thought. Does it? She wasn’t sure how doomsday got around these days, but she figured it would want something a bit more flashy than a box in brown wrapping paper, tied up with twine. Honestly, who wraps packages like that anymore? She was certain the post office and other carriers would consider that undeliverable. Get all caught up in their machines, right? Nevertheless, there was a package on her tiny front porch, centered precisely between the wrought iron railings, her front door, and the first step.
Robert John JensonPublished 3 years ago in FictionThe Heartless Farmer
The old barn sat a little way from a rundown farmhouse, where the farmer lived alone. Once upon a time, the farmer had been a happy man. The townsfolk had frequented his store for his fine produce, and he and his wife were welcomed and elevated at social gatherings the year round.
A Slice of Life
“Yo, what’s in the box?” Jewels yelled in his best Brad Pitt impression. The group snickered as the lady looked up at them from behind thick sunglasses, lowering her journal slightly. Jewels ducked down to not-so-effectively hide. Yasmin took over the jeering.
Ethan J BeardenPublished 3 years ago in FictionThe Third Young Hog
Mom told us it was time to move on. “You are grown now, becoming young hogs” I told her that I was ready. She wanted me to watch after my brothers
Hanan FaragPublished 3 years ago in FictionBrahman Prarie
BRAHMAN PRARIE It was the summer of 1958, and I was 8 years old. I loved all of the animals on the farm but my favorite by far was Judah. He was born in the miracle barn. He was a brahman bull and the cutest one I had ever seen. His head was white as pure as snow and faded to silver on his neck and black near his hump. He had silver and white the rest of his body, but in a black patch near his hip was a white cross. We stayed in the barn as he was born to make sure everything was ok, but your grandma and grandpa went in for the night. I stayed out with my lantern and just sat there with momma and Judah. I leaned against him as he layed down and momma watched over us both.
Levi dotsonPublished 3 years ago in FictionShe Floats
She floated on the wooden boat. Rags torn from garments plugged the holes that threatened to take her under. The sky was peach, and the mist made it look fuzzy. But it was not sweet and juicy. On an island in the near distance, was the barn. It sat on its own little island, ostentatiously, lording over the rocks and the murky waters. It could have been a castle had it been made of stone. Instead, the wooden boards pulled down on themselves, as if trying to wrestle the support beams to the ground. The pride of the whitewashed edifice was what stood out as regal. It wouldn’t let itself fall. It would stand for a thousand more years.
Lacie PerryPublished 3 years ago in FictionRoman Folly
Roman put down his pipe. He staggered to his feet and stared at the hazy room. He did not remember moving the couch against the window. Nor did he remember an incense holder perched precipitously on the window sill. "You have to cut back," Roman told himself. As he stared at his unfamiliar living room, it was clear he had been having too good of a time.
Jacob C SadlerPublished 3 years ago in FictionEquilibrius Hounds
Borealis was a Shepherd-Boxer-Rottie who did what she wanted. You might've got suckered into thinking she was happy to see you, with her flirty eyes and that tail all thwackathwumber. You may could even get her to lick you like a content loyal fur-friend would do. But don't doubt me, she has beads on the end game always:
Todd ThurmanPublished 3 years ago in FictionFamily Dinner
There was a man who had three sons, the youngest of whom was called Dummling, and was despised, mocked, and sneered at on every occasion. "The Golden Goose", as told by the Brothers Grimm.
Colleen BorstPublished 3 years ago in FictionThe Goblin's Eyes
The goblin had her mother’s eyes, as was common. She also had her grandmother’s and her great-grandmother’s. She kept them in a bag tied to her belt. When her daughter was old enough, she would get the bag along with this goblin’s eyes. It was the tradition.
Sorcha MonkPublished 3 years ago in Fiction