Fan Fiction
The Last Ride
Michael woke up with a splitting headache. Once he gathered himself together, he realized that he was moving. Upon looking around he discovered that he was on a train. He was so confused. He had no idea why or how he got on there or where he was going. The last thing that he remembered was picking up his daughter from school.
Tyrone LivingstonPublished 2 years ago in FictionYour shape is the shape of the wind and novelists are wind catchers
In the era of epidemic, who is the most creative person? It turned out to be Cheng Yongxin. No one could have imagined that Cheng Yongxin would choose to spend this time by writing novels. Considering that Cheng Yongxin's career has been completely devoted to the career of novel editing, and that he has profoundly shaped the image of Chinese literature since the mid-1980s, his now claustrophobic manipulations in space and time further illustrate a basic Fact: Novels are not only the medium for Cheng Yongxin to contact the world, but also the most important channel for Cheng Yongxin to express his emotions, and it has even become an organ on his body.
HO Chun KitPublished 2 years ago in FictionA train to Choose
There is a flash of light; I sit confused and light headed. I have to knock the cobwebs out of my head, such a fog. This takes a minute. I realize that I was lying down sprawled across a few hard plastic seats. Peering around, I notice that I sit on a moving train but I have no idea where I’m going. The train car jumps like they all do while traveling their routes, I bump my head then sit up, rubbing the area that will have a sore spot soon enough. I can’t remember anything about my life but I know other things.
John LohnesPublished 2 years ago in FictionDust Warrior - Chapter 1
Nikawa Fleetfoot was excited to start this grand adventure of becoming a Dust Warrior. She had heard so many amazing stories and she wanted to be the subject of those stories. The honor and glory that would be given to her clan as a result was incredibly important to her. In the land of Ogawa, the Fleetfoot clan were not at the bottom of the social totem pole, but they also were far from the top. That kind of social climbing would benefit her clan in so many ways. Thinking of all the riches and glory to come she walks into the forest leaving a rather obvious trail with her large clunky boots. They weren't elegant, but they got her where she needed to go so, she wouldn't complain. She wondered though if perhaps her name should be Thunderfoot instead of Fleetfoot. Chuckling at her own jest she continued looking for the "dreaded" Wignow, honestly how difficult could it be to defeat the little puffball. Sure, she had little to no experience but some of the monsters she had heard about seemed silly and easily defeated. She felt confident in her abilities and in her desire to travel and get out of Ogawa. She not only wanted to bring honor to her clan, but she also longed for the ability to travel wherever she wanted and to have grand adventures like she used to read about Sagantha Woods from the Wild-Elf Woods series. It was amazing to think that she was finally on her way. Stopping for a moment she scanned her surroundings and wondered where in the world she would find a Wignow. As she walked, she noticed the forest becoming more dense and the light more dappled. Slowly it began to get truly dark as she traveled into the depths of the forest beneath great high Margo Monstera trees. They had large green leaves that had what appeared to be tears and holes in them, but it's just how the leaves grow. It isn't damage of any kind. Stopping she stared up at the nearest Margo Monstera and reached as high as she could to pluck a leaf and study it more closely. As she did, she heard a rustling in the underbrush ahead of her and stopped. Her eyes strained into the shadows trying to determine what might be lurking there. The rustling became louder followed by some grunts and Nikawa felt her heart begin to beat fast. Suddenly when she felt she could take it no longer a smallish green ball of leaves came flying out of the bush.
Nikky Affolder-WalkerPublished 2 years ago in FictionThe Art of Manipulation
******This fanfic is based off of the game The Quarry. I'm not a gamer but my best friends persuaded me to play this one- and it sent me into a dark abyss of obsession. Until I went on Pinterest, I thought I was the only one who read more into Laura and Sheriff Hackett's relationship. And you guessed it, that is what this story is going to be centered on. Of course, the other characters will pop up because who doesn't love a bit of Kaitlyn's sarcasm, Jacob and Emma's doomed love, the sweetness between Nick and Abi, and the flirtatious witty banter between Ryan and Dylan?
Amanda LyonsPublished 2 years ago in FictionThe Yellow Hibiscus Chapter 14
"Wait a minute," she called out, scrutinizing me 360 degrees. "Why don't you call her?" I bluffed, holding my gaze while looking directly into her eyes. My heart sunk to my knees when she walked to a phone mounted on the wall. She picked it up, dialed, refocused, and watched me like a cat watching a mouse.
Annelise LordsPublished 2 years ago in FictionWood elf
The inkstand cast a trembling circular shadow, whose outline I was concentrating on. The clock was striking in a distant room, and I, again a dreamy dreamer, thought it was a knock at the door, softly at first, then louder and louder. The man struck twelve times, and stopped to wait.
Gord HylesPublished 2 years ago in FictionWood elf
The inkstand cast a trembling circular shadow, whose outline I was concentrating on. The clock was striking in a distant room, and I, again a dreamy dreamer, thought it was a knock at the door, softly at first, then louder and louder. The man struck twelve times, and stopped to wait.
Gord HylesPublished 2 years ago in FictionChildren on the road
I heard the car pass in front of the garden fence. Sometimes I peeped through the slight swaying of the leaves to see how the wheels and shafts of the carriage rattled on this hot summer day. The farmers came back from the fields, and they laughed loudly. This is immoral.
Gord HylesPublished 2 years ago in FictionThe ridiculous dream
Yeah, yeah, it turns out I taught them all wrong! How it happened -- I don't understand, but I remember it vividly. Dreams travel through thousands of years, leaving only the overall feeling in my heart. All I know is I'm the reason they're down. Like an abominable caterpillar, like the plague bacterium that infects many nations, I have defiled this pleasant land that was free of sin before I came. They learned to lie, fell in love with hypocrisy, and tasted the benefits of lying. Well, at first they may have wanted it only to be playful, to show off, to be funny; they may have been tempted, but it went down to the bottom of their hearts, and it was just what they wanted. Then comes lust, lust breeds jealousy, envy breeds brutality... Well, I don't understand, I don't remember, but soon there was the first blood: surprise, fear, they began to diverge, and then they went their separate ways. Factions emerged, and they were hostile to each other, reviling and accusing each other. They have tasted humiliation and see it as a virtue. With the idea of honor, the factions set up their own banners. They began to mistreat animals, which fled from them into the forest and became their enemies. In order to pull the top of the mountain, set up the door, fighting for fame and profit, each other. They were at loggerheads and regarded each other as enemies. They tasted disaster, and they loved it. They long for suffering, saying that only through suffering can they win the truth. At this time, they invented learning. When they are full of evil, they talk of brotherhood and humanity, and they know what those words mean. When they have committed many crimes, they think of justice, and make a set of laws to uphold justice, and for the execution of the code set up the guillotine. Their memory of the past is so dim that they do not even want to believe that they were once pure and happy, and they laugh at whether they were happy or not, saying that it is only a dream. They cannot even imagine happiness, and the strange thing is that they do not believe that happiness ever existed, that it is a myth. They long to be pure and happy again. They cling to their wishes like children, worship them, build temples and pray for their ideals and hopes, knowing that good dreams are hard to realize and hopes cannot be realized, but they worship them with tears and deities. But if they could go back to the blameless place they had lost, if it were suddenly shown to them again, and asked if they would return, they would refuse. They answered: "Even if we are false, wicked, and wicked, we know this, and weep, and grieve, and torment, and punish ourselves for it, perhaps more than the kind judge whose name we do not yet know will judge us. But we have learning, learning will make us find the truth again, we will consciously accept the truth, knowing more than feeling, understanding of life more than life itself. Learning will give us wisdom, wisdom will find the law, and to know the law of happiness is more than happiness." That's what they said, and then they were more self-absorbed, and besides, they couldn't have it any other way. Everyone is obsessed with selfish interests, to harm and reduce the interests of others, think that survival is so. Hence slavery, even voluntary slavery: the submission of the weak to the strong, so that the strong can help them to oppress the weaker. There was a man of wisdom. The sage remonstrated with tears, saying that they were arrogant, unscrupulous, disharmonious, and unscrupulous. The wise men were mocked and beaten, and their blood was spilt upon the doors of the temple. Others, however, began to think of how they might unite them all again, so that each would look after himself as he did, and at the same time not interfere with the others, so that they might as well live in a friendly society. For this ideal, war after war broke out. All even combatants are firmly believe that at this moment, knowledge, wisdom and consciousness of self preservation, will eventually make people join a harmonious coexistence, a rational society, and now in order to accelerate the process of enterprise, "wise men" in the "fool" and as soon as possible to eliminate all don't understand their ideal, so as not to hinder the realization of the ideal. But the sense of self-preservation began to wane rapidly, and there emerged the arrogant and the greedy, who openly demanded to have everything or to abandon everything. In order to possess everything, they do evil, and if that fails -- they commit suicide. Religions have sprung up to worship nonexistence and self-destruction, in the hope of finding eternal rest in nonexistence. These men are worn out and bitter in their futility, and they claim that suffering is a pleasure, because in suffering there is thought. They composed songs in praise of suffering. I go among them with grief and pity, but perhaps I love them more than I did before, when there was no pain in their faces and they were pure and beautiful. This land of theirs was a paradise, and now it is defiled by them, and I love it all the more for its calamity. Alas, I have always loved disaster and suffering, but only for myself, and for them I weep with pity. I prayed for their forgiveness. I blamed myself, cursed myself, and despised myself. I told them I had done it all, and I had done it alone; It was I who had brought them the immoral, the immoral, the deceitful, I besought them to crucify me, I taught them to make the cross. I could not, could not, kill myself, but I was willing to accept their torture, I longed for pain, I longed to shed my last drop of blood in pain. But they only laughed at me, and finally thought me mad. They didn't think I was guilty. They said they would only accept what they wanted, and the whole status quo could not be changed. Finally, they announced to me that I was a danger to them, and that if I did not keep my mouth shut, I would be put in an insane asylum. I felt like I was going to die, and then... That's when I woke up.
Gord HylesPublished 2 years ago in FictionThe ridiculous dream
But, you know, alas, it was only a dream! But the feeling of the hospitality of these pure and beautiful people has always remained in my heart, and I feel that it is still rubbing off on me. I see them, I know them and I believe them. I liked them, and I suffered for them afterwards. Ah, I knew at once, even then, that in many ways I did not fully understand them; As a contemporary Russian progressive and humble Petersburg, I don't seem to have solved the problem that they know so many things without our education. But it soon became clear to me that their enrichment and absorption of knowledge took place in a different way from our own on Earth, and that their pursuit was entirely different. They are aloof from the world, indifferent to fame and fortune. They do not strive to find a life, as we do, because they live to the full. But their knowledge is much deeper than ours, for our knowledge seeks to explain what life is, to know it, in order to teach it to others; They know how to live without studying science. I understand that, but I don't understand their knowledge. They showed me their trees, but I could not appreciate the way they looked at them: they seemed to have a kinship with each other. You know, if I said they could talk to trees, I was probably right! Yes, they have found the language of the trees, and I am sure the trees understand their words. That's how they see nature as a whole, including animals. The animals lived at peace with them and did not attack them, but liked them and were tamed by their love. They showed me the stars, and talked to me about them. I could not understand them, but I believed that they seemed to have some way of communicating with them, not just in thought, but in a lively way. Oh, these people don't try to make me understand them, and I don't understand them, and they love me, but I know they'll never understand me, and that's why I hardly talk to them about our Earth. In their presence I merely kissed frequently the land where they lived in silent reverence. And when they saw it, they let me go and shew it, and were not ashamed of my reverence, for they themselves were exalted. I sometimes kiss their feet with tears on my face, and they are not sad for me. How excited I am to know how passionate their love will be in return! I wonder, sometimes, how it is that they do not bully people like me, and do not once arouse jealousy and jealousy in people like me. I asked myself many a time: how could I, a boastful liar, not tell them what I knew, of which, of course, they knew nothing, and not want to shock them, or even to admire them? They were all as merry and cheerful as children. They roamed their beautiful gardens and woods, singing their beautiful songs, eating digestible food, fruit from their own trees, honey from their own forests, and the milk of animals that loved them. They can easily feed and clothe themselves with light labor. They loved each other and had children, but I never found them greedy or immoral. Almost all human beings on our planet are doomed to lust. Lust is the root of all human evil. They are overjoyed at the arrival of a new life, a new person in their happy land. They didn't quarrel with each other, they didn't envy each other, they didn't even know what a quarrel was with jealousy. Their children are everyone's, because everyone is a family. They were almost entirely free of disease, though there was death; Their old man died peacefully, as if he were asleep. People gathered around him to see him off. He smiled and blessed them, and they smiled and said goodbye. I did not see sorrow or tears, but a double rapture of love, but a calm, full, quiet rapture. It can be argued that they are still in contact with the deceased even after his death, and that death cuts off the earthly connection between them. When I asked them about eternal life, they barely understood what I meant, but it was clear that they believed it, and it was not a problem for them. They have no temples here, but they have a vital, vibrant, indissoluble connection with the whole universe; They were not religious, but they were sure that when earthly pleasures reached their earthly limits, then for them, the living and the dead, a wider communion with the whole universe would come. They were looking forward to the moment with great interest, unhurried and carefree, as if they were already ready to exchange information. Every night before they go to bed, they like to sing a harmonious song together. They use these songs to express the feelings of the day, to eulogize and bid farewell to the passing day. They praise nature, the earth, the sea and the forest. They liked to write songs about each other and praise each other like children; These are unpretentious songs, but they come from the heart and move the heart. Not only in their songs, but seemingly throughout their lives, they admired each other. It was an all-encompassing, common kind of adoration. Other songs were so solemn that I could hardly understand them at all. I know the lyrics, but I can't get the full meaning. My brain seemed difficult to understand, but my heart seemed to be more and more understanding unconsciously. I have often said to them that I had a premonition of all this before, that all these joys and hymns are to me on our earth an immense sorrow, and sometimes an unbearable pain; I had a premonition of these people, and their hymns, when my heart was in dreams, and visions came into my head; On our earth, the setting sun often starts me with tears... I hate the people of our earth, but there is always bitterness in hate: why can I hate them without loving them? Why should I not forgive them? I love them, but in love there is always bitterness: why should I love them and hate them at the same time? I could see that the people here did not understand what I was saying, but I was not sorry that I had spoken to them, because I knew that they understood how much I missed those I had left. Yes, when they look at me with their kind eyes full of caresses, when I feel my soul becoming as pure and honest as theirs in their presence, I no longer regret not understanding them. Life is so full, full. Excited by the experience of being there, I silently blessed them.
Gord HylesPublished 2 years ago in FictionThe ridiculous dream
"And if this is the sun, if this is indeed our sun," I cried, "then where is the earth?" My companion pointed out to me a little star that glowed green in the darkness. We flew straight for it.
Gord HylesPublished 2 years ago in Fiction