Fantasy
Hellreaver I: Kingspawn
1500 Ages After The Fall of Felicia Merek Ward Sun dripped onto the rolling hills like honey on fruit, and in an ideal time, the golden sight would’ve been untouched, undisturbed. The quiet, wooden town of Parker’s Hollow would be gently nestled into the landscape without interference. The eastern mountains that sat miles behind the Wards’ farm would’ve watched over the sun’s descent without a reason to be bothered. Unfortunately, times were what they were, and serenity was often interrupted.
By William C Roberts III4 years ago in Fiction
The 2 meters of rope
It was too late when the fire was discovered. The man pulled the woman and rushed for the stairs, only to be pounced back by the fire. The fire spread quickly, and the whole building was like a mad burning charcoal, baking every inch of space into a hot iron. Even though they closed the door tightly, tongues of fire and smoke pushed their way in through the door, one by one. The small room gradually became hot and unbearable.
By sissytisha4 years ago in Fiction
The Cursed Night Jar
She knew that it was morning when she woke. The room was still dark and the air was still. Dawn was not yet there and the birds had not yet started their welcoming invocation. She tried to wrap her mind around the images and the messages presented to her while she slept. It seemed familiar in its tenor, the detail altered. Maybe it was just more.
By Rebecca A Hyde Gonzales4 years ago in Fiction
The FrostWing Chronicles
Chapter 7- A Frost Dragon’s fury After nearly three days after leaving Howlsdall, the group arrived at Northwind. The huge dark runic walls gave a chilling feeling and drowned their hope. But Eyrokar knew this was the final bastion of FrostWing Imperial strength, and he was their beacon. Eyrokar spotted a lone figure at the gates of Northwind. Ereadus growled, “It’s him.” Eyrokar transformed into his Dragon form ready for a fight.
By Robert Gross4 years ago in Fiction
Ascent of the Demon
The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. No one lingered within view of the dilapidated structure to bear witness to the intrusion, however. In fact, not a soul besides the necromancer had dared come within a league of the cabin in a decade – so dread was the curse pronounced by its last occupant. Rentobius, however, didn’t fear profane magic. Indeed, he’d come in search of it: the last bit of missing lore necessary for the Ritual. Forgotten words, written in an ancient tongue, waiting to be unearthed by one destined for greatness …
By Phillip M. Locey4 years ago in Fiction
The Well-Spring
Morning song began slowly and softly as the warm rays streamed through the open windows reaching across the room beckoning the tiny frame to awaken and join nature's celebration of the new day. Eowyn rose from the soft armchair where she had kept vigil as her daughter lay silently. As she approached the east-facing bed she could see the soft rise and fall of Arwen's chest. Leaning over she placed her right hand upon the delicate brown. Every nerve registering burning heat. As Eowyn began to lower herself to sit upon the bed she felt the strong protective hand of Aragon rest upon her shoulder. Eowyn and Aragon gazed upon their eldest daughter, who struggled silently against death. Eowyn looked up at Aragon as concern swept across his face.
By Rebecca A Hyde Gonzales4 years ago in Fiction
Natural Magic Chapter 10
Read Chapter 9 Here Listen to This Chapter Here When her fabric magic class began. Ayan was unsure of her teacher. Mr. Depping was tall and frail looking, with white curls and a slightly bent back. His Faraday shirt was off-white and ill-fitting. His orange and white tie was smudged with dirt, and his trousers were wrinkled with tattered hems. Worst of all, the coarse fabric from which his clothes were made grated in her ears. Ayan had never been wealthy, but she had bartered with the local Xurugwi temple for cotton, linen, and sometimes satin scraps that she could piece together. Surely, Mr. Depping's salary was enough that he could have bought something better than canvas to wear.
By Molly Marjorie4 years ago in Fiction
A Sudden But Inevitable Betrayal
Prologue from Avvadi's Winter, Alteer Legends Book 2 *** The mangled, half-slagged helmet dropped from the Arden’s hand. The stench of burning hair and skin—his own—stung his nostrils. His left eye was welded shut, but he didn’t waste time on a healing incantation—his quarry was escaping. He couldn’t let that happen. Even mortally wounded and robbed of the ability to cast, the man was dangerous.
By D.K Savage4 years ago in Fiction
The oily moon
You anonymous people once out of the interrogation room will feel regret that words should not say so. The weather in July has been hot, wet hands a press on the chair will appear five fingerprints. Three years ago, a pair of park chairs got up and walked away from a man and woman who hated him, and there was a wet circle where the woman had sat. He thought he had discovered a secret. "Yo anonymous!" The interrogator snapped his name. "Hmm." He responded, and immediately added, "There!" "Did you kill someone?" "Yes." "Killed how many people?" "How can I remember that, who keeps count?" One, two ...... one is a fat woman, waist thresher like thick can not hold, two big tits drooping down to the waistband of the pants. Rainy day came a man and a woman, not father and daughter, and will never be a couple ...... stinky man should have died early but went to the toilet. The woman will die first. The man came back a bit did not die, but also a kick in his cross crotch ...... but in the end is also dead. Women white face, it's good. You anonymous wrenching finger search up memory, then found the interrogator face all white, immediately interrupted by yet another memory, will be wet hands hanging down chagrin up what was said. Although that department a sincere. "Eight." He said cowardly.
By sissytisha4 years ago in Fiction
The kid on the counter
The story I am about to tell happened about fifty or sixty years ago in a place called Piacenza in northern Italy. A lawyer's little daughter, playing hide-and-seek in the house, climbed into a cupboard to hide. When she was found and it was her turn to be a ghost, she said, "I don't want to play anymore, I want to stay on the cupboard. The others continued to play and she just stayed on the counter.
By sissytisha4 years ago in Fiction
