Fantasy
Rain of Fire
The ground was soft and crunchy under her feet as she walked through what was once a beautiful, healthy forest. Everywhere she looked she could only see burnt trees and nothingness. Even the mountains far away seemed to cry out to the sky the agony each living thing could still feel in this area. Eyes closed, she could feel everything. The soil was almost sandy, in a way, but with so much more dust at each step. From time to time, something hard and fragile would crack under her foot.
By Michaela Plourde4 years ago in Fiction
Monsters
Moonlight rippled lazily across the emerald scaled sea in the clearing’s centre. The beast’s wings were scrunched up and contorted, as he tried to fit them into the narrow gap between the trees. At full span, they were twice the size of his body and strong enough to carry him effortlessly on the sluggish springtime breeze.
By Flora Nickels4 years ago in Fiction
No Judgement in Mercy
The Kingdom of Nuimor was rich and beautiful. Dense forests covered most of the land through which rivers meandered, many of them flowing into Lake Penleche. There were two main mountain ranges, the largest of which were the Hastlam Mountains in the East. The most rugged was the Chadon range in the North. There the highest peak, Mount Ledal, towered above one of the most formidable forts that bore its name.
By Tristan Biggs4 years ago in Fiction
Foraging for Blackberry
The sun is shy today, peeking slowly over the tips of the trees, and the grass ever so slowly unbends from the weight of the dew and reaches up to the clear sky. Rosie is certain that if grass could think, it wouldn’t be very happy about the weight of an old and delightfully fat dragon stepping down from the doorstep and sliding slowly over it. The blackberry bushes, on the other hand, might be happy to see her – they’re bursting with fruits, branches bent low enough to graze the ground, begging to be picked.
By ChickenFarmer4 years ago in Fiction
So Close, And Witch Way To Go?
He stood behind the tree, glancing, waiting. Do they smell me? See me? He listened. The sound they made was odd, but somewhat familiar. It had been so long since his own whelps were this young. He peaked again from behind the tree and there they were, playing with some leaves, cooing. He looked a little more, a little less careful and he knew they spotted him, but they smiled, and not in a menacing way. He knew that they couldn't hurt him. He didn't want to hurt them. He was curious. How did this little human whelp end up all alone with no one around in the forest with them?
By Tinka Boudit She/Her4 years ago in Fiction
The Woman of the Woods
Deep in the forest, as the mountains begin to ascend, a cave is nestled between enormous, moss-covered boulders. While my siblings keep their hoards high on mountaintops, I’ve found success concealing the entrance to my subterranean cavern at the base of the climb, where the trees are thick and difficult to traverse. My smaller stature has granted me speed and agility, allowing me to slip into the cave with the treasures I’ve collected. Dragons are few and far between, now, as the humans send armies to the hoards, no longer cowering in fear. Like me, they use their smallness for stealth, and have destroyed many dragons that had plagued their villages and kingdoms.
By Tristin Roholt4 years ago in Fiction
In a Secret World
Robin spread her tiny fairy wings and lifted her dainty feet off the ground. The fields smelled of thousands of sweet violets and beautiful Jasmine, mixed in with the wonderful smell of sweet grass and various other plants. The air was wonderful, and the fragrance smelled like a million flowers and grasses were dancing all around her. She fluttered to a beautiful blooming red rose and inhaled the wonderful, sweet, and fragrant alluring aroma. She twirled mid-air as a million beautiful and fiery fireflies danced a showcase of their wonderful, soft, glowing lights which lit up the whole fields. She followed their rhythm, dancing upwards, across, twirling, and then landed on a little maple leaf for a rest.
By Carol Ann Townend4 years ago in Fiction
Fire Breathers: Adventures of the Last Living Dragon
There it was, another day gone. Many quiet winters passed and the cloud-filled sky was still a somber shade of magenta red, quite promising for the coming season’s hunt. But who were we kidding, it wasn’t like there was much left to hunt, and as things were—Muvwar slept much less peacefully tonight. He tossed and turned as Mymrynth’s loud snoring roared over the valleys edge keeping him awake. Teghrom, their only living relative and most trusted advisor slept a few feet away near the cave’s entrance—and by the looks of it, he wasn’t getting much shut-eye either.
By K.H. Obergfoll4 years ago in Fiction
The Petrified Dragon
I was lost and alone in an ocean-sized rainforest. My people fled over the mountains. I do not remember the reasons why. I was little, perhaps only four summers, and I did not notice lagging behind. The fauna and wildlife distracted me. Butterflies, birds, lizards, and monkeys all around, it was wondrous to behold. Thirst and then hunger soon made me realize there was no one else around to get me what I needed. I wondered which direction to search; there was no path. The vine-wrapped trees all looked the same. The ferns bowed as I pushed my way through. It was difficult to see any rocks, unless they were bigger than me, beneath the swaying green foliage. I stumbled numerous times. I grazed my knees, banged my shins, and frequently jammed my toes. I had to make my way around a large, steep isolated rock hill that had thrust itself through the trees, touching the sky. I was too tired to climb. I came up to a large moss covered stone and hopped up to rest. I had no idea that it was a carved stone, purposely placed. I lay back and stared at the underside of the forest canopy. The treetops seemed to spin and for a while I lay with a sense of euphoria. A sound made me sit up. I sat there, oblivious to the signs around me of a former civilization that time had forgotten, that the forest had devoured, when I heard it again.
By Carl G. Lilley4 years ago in Fiction
