Fan Fiction

A Man in the Castle
The chirping birds vocalized their extraordinary tone and vexatious songs accompanied by all the other critters with their personalized verses. Oh, but the birds... The birds were the ones more prominent than the rest -probably due to them being closer to the glass that separated the outside world from the old smelling inside- which caused a young-looking jet-black-haired man in his silky bedspread to grunt and curse, not quite aspiring to be up just yet. He concealed his deathly pale face from the wretched sun by using his right arm to protect his eyes because the light was giving him a headache. The man associated that he must haul himself out of bed to close the drapes, so his pale white skin doesn't get greatly sunburnt -which meant that the tiredness would fade, making him frown even more- and he already perceived the fact that he didn't want to deal with that all day.
By C.M. Minerva4 years ago in Fiction
Best Friends
Chapter One Los Angeles was always such a beautiful place whenever I visited my best friend. Even though it was only the fourth time going to see him within the past few months since he moved out there. Before he moved, I’d never been there, so fortunately enough for me, I was able to go now. Ondreaz used to live in Nevada, but him and his brother, Tony, both moved there to further their careers as social media influencers and I was so proud of the two of them. It did suck, not being able to see them every day, but I went there as much as I possibly could. Ondre always tries convincing me to move there with them, and I think he has me right where he wants me too. He knows if he keeps asking, and giving me good enough reasons to, that I will. Ondreaz has always known me so well, well enough to do things like that. Not that it was a bad thing, I’m glad he knows me that well.
By Jessica 4 years ago in Fiction
The nine needles
One of the more remarkable of the little things that have happened in the past few years happened in Columbus, Ohio (where I have a couple of friends' homes) and unfortunately I missed it. It seems that a Mr. Albatros was looking for something in his medicine cabinet one morning when he found a bottle of a patent medicine that his wife takes for her stomach pains. Well, Mr. Albatros is the kind of man with a fearful heart who is afraid of patented drugs and almost everything else. A few weeks ago, he read a paragraph in a notice in Consumer Research which declared that this patented drug was harmful to the body. He immediately ordered his wife to throw away all the rest of this drug and never to buy it again. She promised, and now discovered there was still a bottle of that dangerous liquid. Mr. Albatros, a man of temper tantrums, told my friend out loud how the story ended: "I threw that bottle out the bathroom window and then threw the medicine cabinet out too!" To me, that was clearly a spectacle worth going all the way to see.
By sissytisha4 years ago in Fiction
The Midway
It was thirty years ago now. A friend and I enrolled in a private university and went to Tokyo. To put it more appropriately, we took a bus to Tokyo because we were going there. Like all candidates in the world, I was looking out the window with a bit of anxiety and uncertainty. In order to stabilize my mood, I talked and chatted. However, the situation was completely different when a high school girl came up from Tokyo and sat in the seat next to us. It was a beautiful girl with the appearance of a sunken fish. My friend and I were more or less confused and our conversation dropped. By the time my friend tried to talk to the girl, the car had already passed Shizuoka.
By Jackmama4 years ago in Fiction
The marriage shoes
Marriage is a pair of shoes. When we were young, we walked barefoot on the ground, feeling the warmth of the sand and the coolness of the grass, the unrestrained spontaneity and joy that would wake us up from our dreams again and again throughout our lives.
By Jackmama4 years ago in Fiction
Kant, the man
At four fifty-five, Conde's servant Lampe woke him up on time. At five o'clock, he sat in his study ready for breakfast, wearing slippers, a robe, and a nightcap, to which he added a tricorn hat. His breakfast consisted of a cup of light tea and a pipe of tobacco. For the next two hours he prepares for his morning lecture. Then he dresses. His classroom is located on the ground floor of his house. His lectures start at seven o'clock and last until nine o'clock. His class was so popular that if you wanted a good seat, you had to be there at 6:30.
By moladda4 years ago in Fiction
The unbreakable egg
A Padua hen, born and raised in a farmhouse near the city of Parma, has a problem: the shells of the eggs she lays are easily broken. The reason for this is that all the other hens eat small stones and lime particles, so the eggs they lay have strong shells, while she only eats wheat, sorghum and corn kernels, or small worms, which she eats in rose, black and various other colors, but never small stones or lime particles, because she cannot digest them. If by chance he eats a stone, it stays in his stomach all day and keeps him awake all night, so that the eggshells he lays are easily broken.
By DanilBos4 years ago in Fiction
Insomnia of the Princess
Once upon a time there was a princess who couldn't sleep all night. From the time she found out she was no longer a child, she began to lose sleep.
By moladda4 years ago in Fiction
The neighbors and the weeds
I have two neighbors who have moved away one after another over the past few years. Between spring and autumn, there is much less cheerfulness. After a rain in the summer, the grass in front of their houses grew wildly, and only then did I remember that it had been a long time since they moved away. However, those stories inside and outside the house are like the couplets on the porch, the color recedes, but does not flake off and disappear ......
By BlossomParker4 years ago in Fiction
The Joy of Thinking
Twenty-five years ago, when I went to the countryside to join the army, I brought a few books with me, one of which was Ovid's Metamorphoses, and the men on our team turned it over and over and over, so that it looked like a roll of seaweed. Then someone from another team borrowed it, and I saw it again in several different places later, and it got worse and worse. I believe the book was eventually lost to view. I still can't forget the miserable state of the book. The life in the camp was hard, not enough to eat, not enough to get used to the soil, many people got sick, but the biggest pain was the lack of books to read, if there were many books to read, "The Metamorphosis" would not have disappeared so tragically. On top of that, there is no pleasure in thought. I'm sure I'm not alone in this experience: sitting under the eaves in the evening, watching the sky slowly darken, feeling lonely and desolate, feeling deprived of your life. I was a young man at the time, but I was afraid to live on and age like this. In my opinion, this was something more terrible than death.
By BobBam4 years ago in Fiction
Sunrise on the grassland
In the early morning bush, a young boy encountered the following scenario. He ran closer, then stood still, an inexplicable new fear bringing him to a halt. The grass around him was vibrant and whispering. He looked around wildly, then looked down. The ground was black with ants, big and strong, and they ignored him, hurrying toward something struggling, as if bright, shiny black water was flowing through the grass.
By BobBam4 years ago in Fiction
The Downtown Mushrooms
The wind, coming to the city from far away, carries an unusual gift, but only a few sensitive people notice it, like those with hay fever, who sneeze because of pollen wafting from elsewhere.
By BobBam4 years ago in Fiction