Fan Fiction
The Curse of the Lapis Hand
In the remote village of Seraphina, nestled deep within a valley surrounded by lush, untamed forests, an ancient and mysterious legend shrouded the region. The tale revolved around the "Curse of the Lapis Hand," an enigmatic phenomenon that had haunted the village for centuries.
By Aljon Pasilan3 years ago in Fiction
Anura’s Meeting
The local runner may have been new, but he was the one assigned by the lead to save the girl once they new the kidnapping was in motion. He never knew where they got the information but it was always accurate. The structural organization was efficient and effective and not to mention well known and very active in community developments. It was like they wanted own the city, this itself could be although be true, just never told to anyone.
By MIXHAELI MENTE3 years ago in Fiction
Whinnying in Rio: The Tale of the Briefcase Mix-Up
In the bustling city of Rio de Janeiro, the warm sun kissed the vibrant streets and the rhythmic samba filled the air. It was a place of lively music, captivating dance, and the occasional, extraordinary occurrence. And on this particular day, an extraordinary occurrence was about to take place, courtesy of a most unusual character.
By Alite Digitals3 years ago in Fiction
The Wizard's Tale: Battle of Illusions
its been a long time that have say a story the old man told the children around him. It goes thus: In the enchanting realm of Wellington, magic flowed through the very air, and its most formidable wizard, Arthur, was celebrated for his extraordinary powers. He could conjure firestorms, create enchanting illusions, and mend the broken with a flick of his wand. Yet, among the magic and wonder, an adversary lurked, a wizard named Malachi, whose power resided not in spells but in deception and lies.
By Alite Digitals3 years ago in Fiction
The Adventurous BEE 🐝
Once upon a time, in a tranquil garden nestled behind a charming cottage, lived a very special bee named Bella. Bella wasn't your ordinary bee; she was gifted with a unique talent that set her apart from the rest of the hive. She had a remarkable ability to communicate with the flowers.
By Francis Benjamin3 years ago in Fiction
Born Wolf
Sylvia felt strongly drawn to him the moment she saw him. The attraction was instantaneous because he seemed to be her type. Slim and plenty of hair. And this guy did not only boast of a narrow waist but adorned it with proportional broad shoulders. He was lithe. Like a slim tiger having leisure time. Complete with a full head of stylishly bushy hair and trimmed beard. He moved with natural grace as he took a seat at the end of the bar and waited patiently as horde of party animalsa with darkened eyes yelled orders at the overworked barman whose kohl had smeared around tired red eyes. Most people in the party wore khol, which made them appear cattish. Sylvia wondered if it was a kind of a club thing. She never knew who the celebrant was or even the reason for the party. Hours ago, before she crashed this party, she was abysmally drowning in self-pity at home. Then she decided to seek out a hangout far from the area where people knew her, and where she could be unrestrictedly decadent. She found a place with loud music and poor lights. A group of party goers were drinking up a storm at a table, she sat close to them and soon struck up an irrelevant conversation with them. She eventually joined them to this party. Ordinarily Sylvia wouldn't have talked to those strange people or even go to a party she wasn't properly invited to. And the venue of the party wasn't the kind of place she would have attempted going to with strangers. It was situated in an estate still under construction at a remote part of town. She was probably suicidal that night due to the cruel rejection she had suffered earlier. Her new acquaintances, except for the drunkest of them, disappeared on her as soon as they entered the party hall. The drunk guy hung around her. She pointedly ignored him. He was of average height and stocky and odiously plastered. He disappeared many times and always reappeared with a fresh bottle of drink; a different brand from the last one. Sylvia had contented herself with a small plate of chops and a bottle of strong alcoholic wine she had snagged from one of the unattended tables as soon as she arrived with her new friends. She didn't open the bottle since its alcohol content was above her usual gauge, but as the party progressed without direction, she was forced to uncork the bottle. She wanted something milder but the stampede at the bar discouraged her. As the loud music changed to a popular hit, the drunk guy suddenly placed himself before her and leered down. 'You care for a dance?' He was moving his body side by side in a funny motion. 'No, thanks,' Sylvia replied. 'I don't want to dance.' This wasn't what she was looking for. If one must eat a frog, they better go for a juicy one. The reason for coming here was to do what she never did before: have a good time on her own and pick up a delicious guy to hang out with. That was what she wanted, as opposed to playing it safe, which she had done all her life. Look at where playing it safe got her. John betrayed her. Discarded her without remorse or even respect. Made her a laughing stock.'Why?' the drunk guy asked, taking hold of her hand. The kohl on his eyes had mixed with sweat and spreading towards his cheeks. He burped. She slipped her hand free from his sweaty clutch. She quickly scoured the hall for better entertainment and to avoid looking at the man before her when she sighted whathwhatwhath
By Benjamin george3 years ago in Fiction
The Hut in the middle of nowhere
In the heart of a dense, ancient forest, there stood a hut in the middle of nowhere. It was a place unknown to most, hidden deep within the emerald expanse of towering trees. Those who had ventured into the forest searching for it had often returned bewildered, speaking of eerie whispers in the wind and the sensation of being watched by unseen eyes.
By Joseph Moses3 years ago in Fiction
Unspoken Bonds
It was a well lit private ward at st Louis hospital, shadows danced on the wall painting an intimate atmosphere around the two souls occupying the room. Silence engulfed them like a tangible presence heavy with unspoken words and lingering emotions. In this sterile hospital room, Asher lay on his sick bed, his once robust frame now frailed by the cruel grip of a terminal disease. His lover Elaysia sat by his bed side, her eyes filled with a mixture of love and sorrow. They communicated not through words but with the unspoken language of touch and unwavering glances. Elaysia's fingers gently intertwined with Ashers, it held a reassurance that surpassed the limitations of speech. In the quiet moments, their unspoken conversations echoed the depth of their connection. As she held his hand, and looked into his eyes, he found solace in it, which spoke volumes without uttering a single syllable and her touch conveyed a promise, a promise to stand by him, to fight with him, and to embrace every moment they had left together. With each glance, Elaysia spoke volumes. Her eyes, pools of endless understanding, reflected his fears but also mirrored unwavering faith. In the silence, she whispered hope, reminding him of the love that surrounded him, giving him the strength to face the battle ahead. In those quiet moments, Elaysia found herself lost in memories of Asher's past battles. She remembered the strength he exhibited, the unwavering determination that had carried him through storms before. As she gently caressed his hand, lost in thought, Richard's eyes, weakened but still filled with a quiet intensity that met hers. It was as if he could read her mind, understanding the silent tributes she paid to his courage. In that shared gaze, there was an unspoken acknowledgment of the battles they had faced together, a recognition of the countless hurdles they had overcome as a team. Elaysia marveled at the way he seemed to grasp her innermost thoughts without a word spoken. It was a testament to the depth of their connection, a bond that went beyond the physical realm. In those moments, she found strength in his silent understanding, a reassurance that their love was a force that could conquer even the most formidable challenges. And in the stillness of the night, when the world outside the hospital room faded into darkness, Elaysia held Asher close. Without uttering a word, she conveyed her belief in his resilience, her confidence that their love could defy even the harshest of fates. Her presence became his sanctuary, a beacon of light in his darkest hours. As the days passed, they found solace in the unspoken. In the brush of her lips against his forehead, he felt her love anchoring him to life. She found the determination to be his pillar of strength, and him too found determination to fight this battle in the way she held his hands. In the face of the inevitable, they embraced the power of their silent conversations. Their love, unspoken yet profoundly felt, became the driving force that allowed Asher to endure the pain, fight the illness, and cherish the moments they had together. And in those quiet moments, amidst the beeping machines and sterile walls, they found a love that was louder than any words could ever express, a love that whispered promises of eternity, even in the face of mortality. Their love, tested and proven in the crucible of hardship, blossomed even brighter. Asher's health gradually improved, and he was able to leave the hospital, embracing life with a newfound appreciation for each moment. In the years that followed, they celebrated not only Asher's recovery but also the profound bond that had carried them through the darkest of times. Together, they cherished life's simple pleasures, basked in the warmth of love, and faced the future with unshakeable optimism. Their story became an inspiration to others, a testament to the power of love, resilience, and the unspoken connections that could conquer even the most formidable challenges. As they stood hand in hand, looking toward the horizon, they knew that their love story was not just a tale of overcoming adversity but also a testament to the enduring strength of the human spirit and the transformative power of love.
By Blessing Morka3 years ago in Fiction
The Chessboard Duel: Unspoken Rivalry on the Square
In a quiet corner of the city's bustling park, two opponents squared off for a mental duel. The park was an unlikely venue for such intensity, with the sun-dappled chessboard standing out amidst the tranquility of the surrounding greenery.
By Brad Wright3 years ago in Fiction
