Fantasy
Between the Roots
The smell of earth clung to the stifling summer air as I ascended the mountain trail. As the path became steeper, my feet kept sliding on the muddy rocks and I had to cling to the roots sticking out of earthen walls to keep from falling. As I sat on the stone ruin halfway up the mountain, the sun was just beginning to ease over the opposite mountain ridge. I knelt on the familiar stones, feeling their carved surfaces and running my hands through the cracks in the foundation as I watched the leftover puddles from the afternoon rain refract the sun. The town glistened in shades of gold, pink, and red as if it were on fire.
By Allyson Alvis5 years ago in Fiction
The Quiet Healer and Her Lantern
Once upon a time, in days of old, magyck and spirits saturated the living world. Some were malevolent, others benevolent. It is the way of this world. Good and evil force equality in the land. A young wanderer was wandering. Up until this point, her path passed through forests, hills, and fields of grass and flowers. This young wanderer always stopped and made time to help the small creatures that crossed her path. One animal in particular, never left her side. A barn owl, winged wisdom, she befriended. Athena, she named her. In her heart, there lived a gemstone. A gem not made of this world, yet more alive than the breath of Gaia. A gemstone so rare, and so secret only a privileged few even know of its existence. The wanderer herself, often forgets a treasure more valuable than all of the gold and jewels on this earth, resides within her. She was a friend to all who crossed her path. The souls of all living and dead found in the land were drawn to her fey spirit and golden heart. A light on this earth was she. Unburdened and free she roamed gaily.
By Jerome Greywood5 years ago in Fiction
The Mysterious Night Owl
One cold autumn night, I walked through the woods to the cave I like to go to and think. While I was walking, this white blur flew by my head, and I screamed, not knowing what was flying over my head. I ducked down. I couldn’t see what had passed by me when I looked around. I thought that maybe it was my imagination getting the better of me.
By Nikki Granger5 years ago in Fiction
Return of The Night Owl
Return of the Night Owl On a dark dreary night, only three before the blood moon that only comes once every 600 years, a young boy at the age of 16 had no idea what journey lay before him that week or who he might meet along his path. Before gearing up for a routine nightly run, Jermaine did his leg stretches in his small and cozy living room apartment that he shared with his older sister, Penelope. Jermaine was, what one would call a night owl. He slept throughout the days and had an abundance of energy once he rose from slumber. Because the weather forecast a bitter and cold night, Jermaine wore a sweater underneath his reflective coat with bright red socks that stretched up above his knees. On his way out he grabbed his AirPods. Music was his daily motivation, he popped them into each ear and the sound of Drake began to hum through. Crystalized icicles hung from the lamp posts that lined the dark and gloomy street which was bare, other people knew to beware of the frosty air. Running towards Curtis Murray park, which sat at the end of the street, Jermaine passed only two other people. They nodded to each other, a signal of greeting, and continued their separate ways. The park was lovely. Jermaine loved hearing the crashing of the waves against the ice in the background of his music as he ran, it gave a zen feeling. Halfway through the park, a light began to flicker ahead of Jermaine. An eerie feeling arose in his stomach, He brushed it off and continued running allowing the adrenaline to flow through his blood. A sudden gust of wind hit his face when he saw something zip across him into the trees. He stopped running, he was startled and lost his breath. He looked around the path and his eyes made contact with the big beady eyes of a bird perched on the branch of an elm tree. It was an Owl, staring into his soul, blinking only once. Jermaine, confused but curious as any young boy, started to edge closer to the big bird hiding in the night shadows. The owl made a hooting noise and flew off deeper into the forest, Jermaine knew better than to go off path especially at night. Starting his music again he continued running down the paved pathway. He could not stop thinking of the owl as he carried along. Jermaine finished his run and was now on his way back toward his warm apartment at a slow stride in the night. As he approached the end of a path, a big fluffy Wolf was waiting to greet him. He slowly and fearlessly approached the dark and hairy animal, who bowed its snout toward the boy and ran off into the woods beside the path. Jermaine was brave and knew never to trust the feeling of fear but, to question it. He shook his head and trotted along, exiting the park. ‘What is in the air tonight, the full moon is not for another two days?’ Jermaine thought to himself as he hurried home to escape whatever other wilderness lurked in the night. Once Jermaine reached home he explained the series of events to Penelope, who did not believe what she called his ‘fable story’; she believed a wolf would have snatched him right up in the dead of the night had he crossed its path. “Maybe the animals have crowned you as King of the Forest ” she chuckled as she uttered the sarcastic joke. Penelope thought of Jermaine as a dreamer always looking deeper into things, while she was logical and loved fact above fiction. Annoyed with Penelope's attitude, Jermaine retreated to his bedroom to write about the night in solitude. That night Jermaine dreamed of a world unknown to him coated in a misty fog.
By Cierra Lilyanne B-L5 years ago in Fiction
Eustace Holder’s Paranormal Detective Agency
“You want me to interrogate the owl?” Eustace sighed at Jason’s question. “Unless you have some heretofore unrevealed magical ability to converse with fauna, then I highly doubt you’ll be capable of performing such an action.” Most things Eustace said came off as pompous due to his posh English accent, but this time it sounded particularly pompous, even for him.
By Lauren Triola5 years ago in Fiction
