Fantasy
Wicked Delights
It’s strange how some things can seem so beautiful and gentle in one light, and yet so ugly and cruel in another. A forest might seem pleasant and inviting in the daytime with sunlight cascading through the breaches of the canopy to form amber shafts of heaven. Perhaps the trees would shake ever so slightly in the wind, rattling their arbor amusement at Mother Nature’s kind breath. In the night however that same forest might appear unsettling, what with the crescent moon peaking through the branches that now leered over those who would travel their lands in the hours of the unwaking.
By Jacob Sola4 years ago in Fiction
The Green Amulet
Agni eyed the tiny human as it floundered through the tall field grass and instantly found it odd that none of the large ones were with it. The way it shrieked and howled she was certain that one of them would come, but alas it looked like this little creature was destined to become someone’s prey.
By K. C. Wexlar4 years ago in Fiction
An Adventure to Balleyclare
Our story begins as most stories do – in a time long since past. A time before the written word was known and, instead, fables were shared in front of family hearths, passed down from mother to daughter, to sister, and to son. And so it was that this story was shared in quiet moments during thundering storms and in the early summer mornings when dandelions dotted the open fields like yellow drops of sunlight. The story grew and changed with each re-telling, as all stories are apt to do. But throughout the many versions and (perhaps sometimes exaggerated) additions, the tale always began the same way: There was once a small village called Balleyclare.
By Margaret Browning4 years ago in Fiction
Palms of Qayin
The river plunged low into a dale, a valley so steep that there was no seeing very far before the horizon, itself decorated with the dance of susu, their song innocuous to the other large beasts resting below as the sun began its consumption of the sky. Chief amongst the stirring giants was the basin's largest denizen, who lay in the two-elephant deep by-waters of the river in the grotto at the end of the aforementioned tract. He was older than the Rivers and keener than their Sire, yet as the first of the wyrmkin, Nod was bound never to venture from his confines of conifers and manor of mangroves and such; and the outlying steppe.
By Michael B Puskar4 years ago in Fiction
The Broken Compromise
The dragon was awakened from its sleep by a sharp noise. She stretched out her wings wide, accompanied with a yawn. There was that noise again. A cry? No, a shriek of some kind. Laughter floated down the cave as she made her way out of her den. The sun was rising, peaking above the sister mountain that laid to the east. She stepped into the light and a looked over the small clearing. Her eyes spotted the tiny form, and she slowly approached it.
By Hannah Hohnadel4 years ago in Fiction
The Great Green Dragon
In the great wide woods of the world that so few had ever tread, a Great Green Dragon heard a cry that sent her heart in a whirl. It was the cry of something small, much smaller than she was, and most of all of something frightened. The great green dragon stomped heavily towards the ongoing sounds of the small, loud, scared thing. When she found the thing it was indeed small, loud and scared, but she did not blame it for being scared. The thing had no scales, it had hardly any teeth at all, and those it had were not sharp nor fierce, nor were its claws. The little thing’s only defense seemed to be that it was exceedingly loud and dirty and would need to be cleaned before being eaten. A hatchling.
By Bernie Thompson4 years ago in Fiction
The Dragon, The Owlet, and the Lorebark
In a time beyond memory, on a cloudless day ‘neath a bright blue sky, a lone winged figure flies across a meadow of verdant green. A small forest of trees stands guard at the edge of the meadow. The great dragon beats his powerful wings and slowly descends toward the forest. He lands lightly despite his hulking mass and sharp talons tearing the earth asunder. The dragon folds his wings to his sides and enters the forest. The ancient trees tower over even him, allowing his lumbering frame to move easily through the foliage. The filtered sunlight plays across his iridescent scales, casting rainbows outward as he moves through the trees, carefully inspecting each one as he passes. Finally, in the heart of the forest, the dragon stops. While tracing patterns with his snout on the bark of an unremarkable tree, a breeze sweeps through the forest but only the tree at which the dragon stands is touched. The elliptical leaves dance gently in the wind, catching the sun’s rays and sending glittering beams of emerald light shining on the bark of the tree. On the transparent leaves, runes in a forgotten language shine and the raised edges of the bark sparkle and glow in the shimmering light. The dragon rakes his wizened, golden eyes over the lorebark tree, his rounded snout slowly breaking into a toothy smile. In a deep, gravelly voice he whispers, “At last.”
By Linda Lane4 years ago in Fiction
A Realm Before Us
Sigusmondelon blinked, shaking his head to regain focus on the present day. It was all too common to relive the moments of his memories stretching back over centuries. He could recall the strenuous victory of the memory, the faces of each Dragomir pair that passed, and the few that survived. He could remember the rage that enveloped his human companion, Eka, that day, sending them on the hunt for the remainder of those sympathizing with Ommateum as they hid away across the world. Most painfully, he could recall the day his companion, trapped within the bowels of a mountain fortress, was robbed of what should have been eternal life. The injustice was that Sigusmondelon knew he should have passed with his companion, but the foolish human released the magic tethering their lives, saving the dragon alone.
By R. M. Forté4 years ago in Fiction
Morna & the Baitby
Morna stretched her wings, shifting as the morning’s light refracted off her cognac scales. Auburn light scattered over her like raindrops, a fractured sunrise cascading across dark stone walls as she rose, shaking the sleep from her limbs. She yawned. Stretching wide like a cat, she arched her back, curling her tail over itself before finally settling. The day was new and full of possibilities. She emerged from her cave, talons clacking against the stone as she took her time, settling by the cliff to gaze at the tawny landscape below.
By Natalie Summers4 years ago in Fiction
