Fantasy
Deify
No one believed in them anymore. No one believed in much of anything anymore. Felt foolish to when every day was met with new losses. But, they rose anyways. The Morrigan stripped the invaders of their health until bones were the only trace of their former existence. Her crows feasted on those unlucky enough to survive. No one could breath around Aether who deemed the outsiders unworthy of the air. The humans left in the resistance looked on in equal parts awe and horror, as the old gods rose in fury to defend their territory. Sinew and blood spilled over the land, running in rivulets as the invaders were sliced into pieces, boiled from the inside out, and burned with the wrath of every interpretation of endless suffering that existed. This…this might be worse than the first apocalypse.
Becan HennighanPublished 3 years ago in FictionGoldblood
TW; Heavy Gore and Sexual Violence ………………………………....…........Chapter One……….....………………………………. It’s cold and pitch black here. The walls press in on me from both sides, the narrow never ending hallway stretching out further than even I can see. I keep walking. Further, and further, and deeper, and darker down into the black.
Rebecca SextonPublished 3 years ago in FictionThe Night of Long Shadows
Everything that ever happened to them happened only in the house. They were young enough to focus on the simple magic of the house, the deep shadows within the house, the secret rooms, the strange sounds that crept up through the floorboards. They watched as the light flickered, distending, pushing them into a haunting, thought-like sequence that was unknown, yet unavoidable. Their untainted fears had started from some imagination, from a lucid memory of fiction and fear. Their parents told them stories at night, and then they dreamed intensely, starting from where the stories had left off, now exchanged for the bright and weird lands of their sleep. It was hard to tell a dream from the real thing to them.
Justin Fong CruzPublished 3 years ago in FictionHeart Shaped Secrets
My name is Winnie. I am 16 years old. My birthday was last week and Mom had found some moldy cheese in a gutter. This rarity was presented to me on a leaf, like one of the Old Way, five course meals on a silver platter that my mom had shown me in some banned movies from an era, long dead and gone.
Winter R. WrightPublished 3 years ago in FictionAnthropological Joy
Oca struggled through the ruins, joints creaking with overuse. These monoliths of metal and plastic never get easier to traverse, especially given their instability. Just last cycle, she broke her arm trying to observe the unique orbs floating above the large complex, bracketed by colorful tapestries with a strange braided symbol in the middle. Something that belonged to an Auntie Anne apparently. Everything about the past was fascinating. A grin spread across her face at a further opportunity to learn about the society that build these complexes. With all the individual spaces, perhaps they were used as living spaces? Oca turned away to survey another space when a flickering light caught her attention. She began to scan this strange box when it attempted to initiate a conversation with her.
Becan HennighanPublished 3 years ago in FictionThe Northern Wars
LYONS Autumn It was a quiet evening in the imperial farmlands of southern Legion as the early onset of the dark drew the day to a close. The weather was fairly warm for an Autumn night, even in the mild Aerbonean midlands where the rural farming town of Lyons rested north of the Svanean-Legion border. Summer had just passed a few weeks before, though one would be hard-pressed to tell the difference in the southern climate. Jean found himself locked in a heated discussion with his older brother, Pierre, as they argued furiously in the dark of their room. They spoke in hushed tones back and forth within the comfort of their family’s cottage- sharing a room between the pair of them. The family home was no more than a small two bedroom cottage that they lived in with their mother and father. The brothers were the sons of a poor cattle farmer who was swamped in debt to the king of those lands, King Louis IV; the fourth King of the line of Louis Delaunay, founder of the Kingdom of Legion.
Kelson HayesPublished 3 years ago in FictionThe Northern Wars
NERO FOREST, AHGLOR Winter, 1E77 Robin trekked through the rough hilly terrain of the Ahglorian woodlands in pursuit of the caribou herd he’d been pursuing for three days, northeast of his home in Olenor. The land was covered in dense pine and fir tree woods and small ferns and thorny underbrush grew between them. The ground was covered in dead leaves and pine needles and it was flattened where the caribou had run through, sometime late in the night during the storm. He followed the caribou trail as quickly and quietly as an elf- the dead wet leaves gave way without sound beneath the soles of his hemp shoes as he ran along on his northerly course. The path he followed was sunken into the ground and the land rose two and a half feet on either side of the three foot wide path that he traversed. His path was walled-in by the thick growth of trees that surrounded him and the caribou route twisted and turned periodically as he navigated it.
Kelson HayesPublished 3 years ago in FictionGutterick The Guardian
“A customer?” Sounded a squeaky voice from somewhere in the dark. “How peculiar – Ah, I remember now! You must be the new apprentice, am I right?”
Ida StokbaekPublished 3 years ago in FictionLegend of Inane
Ryzania: Once a land known for beautiful landscapes of endless greenery, now a smoldering landscape nearly uninhabitable by mortalkind. The fae-kin departed the world, either fleeing to another or entering eternal rest with a majority of the original inhabitants of the land. Children born during the crusade never knew the country’s glory, merely the darkness of the tunnels to which they found their homes. However, a few fae kin remained, attempting to right the wrongs of the war. They were considered seraphs, with ashy gray wings, and tan skin which contrasted the wingless pale mortals. Seraphs had exquisite features which were exhausted from their exposure to endless rains, while the mortals had a more delicate appearance, which appeared dirty and worn from their lives underground.
Crystal AyersPublished 3 years ago in FictionFaith, Trust & Pixie Dust
How do you adequately describe the first time you experience real magic? It seems the prettiest of words in the English language could never quite do it justice.
Jessie WaddellPublished 3 years ago in FictionElios
I was told humans weren’t always idiotic fools. I was told we once cared about the place we call home. My mother passed down the little knowledge she was given from her mother—and her mother before her—about the creatures that once roamed this now sullied planet. We once valued nature, we once valued choices.
Wings
Arney stared out over the ocean, his claws clicking against the rocks at his feet as he sat and thought. The weather was starting to cool and soon he’d have to find a warm cave to hide in during the snows. He didn’t have to, strictly speaking, but he found it much more enjoyable than having to trudge through all that muck and cold wetness. Being a creature of stone, earth, and fire, he had never been overly found of this part of the year.
Gianna RobbinsPublished 3 years ago in Fiction