Fantasy
Of the earth
We have a choice to make. It is a decision that will infinitely change the course of direction you are traveling. It doesn't have to be a conscious choice and in that the system tears us apart. Those chosen must rise. Those who refuse the third eye are betrayed by the enemies behind the smoke screens and deceiving mirrors. The power is within the choice. The power is within all the answers that will always remain inside.
By Samuel Bitner5 years ago in Fiction
Living in a Fantasy
One day, not too long ago, I awoke early in the morning. I found myself in a life I no longer wanted. It was a life of boredom and misery. I was trapped in a nightmare, in a place I did not want to be, with a person (a beast) I did not love. But there was no physical escape to be had.
By Rhonda M Marrone5 years ago in Fiction
The Wishbinder
The Wishbinder By P.N.Holland He leaned over his computer and smiled. Finally, the story’s finished. He rose from the desk feeling like a load had been lifted. A walk would be just the thing. Out of his room and into the hall he grabbed his coat and hat and scanned the room.
By Neil Holland5 years ago in Fiction
Cowboy Bob and the Inter Dimensional Drive
Cowboy Bob and the Inter Dimensional Drive by: Dennis R. Humphreys The research firm of Tomorrow's Technologies had been around for ten years. Subsidized by private funding originally, some of the things developed, eventually caught the attention of the U.S. Government. It was commonplace to grant funding regularly for a hand in the development of things pertinent to national security and military advancement. One project caught the attention of power gurus. This unique project was a coordinated effort under the leadership of three men: Doctors Gordon Ripshaw, Issac Warner, and Phillip Askew. Their primary focus was in three different areas of expertise and interest. All their efforts were combined in these avenues both in time and funding.
By Dennis Humphreys5 years ago in Fiction
Train
Charlie pulled his hat and gloves out of the closet. He carefully wrapped his scarf around his neck and tucked the ends inside his coat. Inside the kitchen, he watched his mom spread peanut butter on two slices of bread and wrap the sandwich with plastic wrap. She filled a thermos with hot chocolate and placed it inside his lunchbox with the sandwiches. Charlie put his lunchbox inside his backpack and cinched it shut. “Where are you off to today, Charlie?” she asked, as she zipped up his jacket and wiped a wet thumb at his cheek. Charlie ducked his head.
By Rachel McCaulley5 years ago in Fiction
The Will and the Wish of a Dragon
Darseth was a dragon. Physically, he was a typical dragon of that era, perhaps a bit larger than most, with a thick coat of red armour scales covering his broad breast. Darseth had terrible claws, terrifying jaws, and a tail more powerful than an avalanche of pythons. He had always been well-respected by other dragons in the country and was very honourable. However, Darseth was different than most other dragons. He was quite kind and humble, never disputing and fighting like many of his companions, but what was most peculiar was Darseth’s diet. In the first two hundred years of his life, he likely ate less than half of the amount his friends did. In fact, Darseth did not like to eat meat at all! He did not enjoy killing and only did so because it was necessary for his survival. Though they found this extremely odd, the other dragons did not think differently of him for it, for he was still larger than many of them. Life was well for Darseth for hundreds of years, until he suffered a life-changing injury.
By Peter Fedorchuk5 years ago in Fiction
Mystery of a Package
“Senator so and so receives something something explosive packages….” Joana was glancing through the headlines on the news feed on her smartphone with half-open eyes, laying on the bed. Joana was in her early twenties, slightly short, the lustrous eyes outshone her otherwise average features. She was a senior majoring in Finance at Ohio State University. The morning’s alarm has started her body’s ignition. It would take fifteen more minutes to gain the momentum to leave the bed. As Joana was brushing her teeth while rubbing her left eye, an Amber alert vibration mentioned the presence of a terror suspect in the locality. She opened her lips awkwardly to view her teeth. She was as pleased as punch with the whiteness of her teeth. She heard some fading footsteps at the door, opened it, and discovered a package wrapped in brown paper. She extended her hand to pick it up but instantly flinched back. The two pieces of information entrapped in her subconscious mind triggered this involuntary recoil response. She was not expecting any package. She went inside and picked up the phone to check if her mother was expecting anything. The door was left partially agape. Split seconds later, her mother Mrs. William returned from a morning walk with her dog Max. Her rottweiler sniffed the package, barked once, and swerved to the other side digressing from his idiosyncrasy of prying into any never-before-seen object. “What is this packet?” She picked it up, it smelled horrible even from a distance from her nose. Miss Barbara lived next door alone. She was an eavesdropping neighbor and never missed an opportunity to intrude in the Williams family's lives. She was within her boundary wall and said “Good morning Mrs. Willaim. Why do you make the nauseous face? What is that parcel?” Miss Barbara was wearing a canary-colored house dress. She had short hair, the wrinkles on her cheek made her look older than she was. “Do not know. It's pungent,” Mrs. William responded bitterly. “Let me see. I do not smell anything.” She bought close to her nose. “Not even now, but I can hear something ticking.” She placed it near her ear “definitely some analog clock.” A sound she heard after almost ten years. Joana saw and heard this from her room through the partially open door and rushed to the door. “Throw it outside the boundary wall. It has bomb. Just throw it.“ She Panicked. Threw it. Clinched. All in one second. There was no explosion, they all stood stiff with hands on their ears. The eerie silence was broken. “I am calling 911” Joana was agile. After two minutes on the phone “They are sending the bomb squad. Wait. How did the package become green? I remember the package was brown.” Nobody responded. They went inside and within minutes the bomb squad arrived. One officer and one junior officer, both half-dressed as bomb squad specialists, briefly inspected the area. They both looked astute although the junior was oddly expressionless. The package was not there. “Where did it go? ” all three ladies screamed simultaneously. “Check the camera,” the officer was quick with the response. The computer screen showed some youth stealing the package. “You cannot call it stealing. The package was on the road,” said Mrs. William who was genuinely courteous. Using face recognition the state police data analysis department was able to identify the youth and within minutes they had the address of Neil Dantam. The officers and the ladies hurried to that address which was just three blocks away.
By abhidipta mallik5 years ago in Fiction
The death Herald
It was a cold night, one of those nights when you only wish to be at home surrounded by those you love. But it was not like that to Leben Adler, a young teenager who thought that he was immortal. Because since he was six years old he was prone to suffer mortal accidents without having any repercussions, every time he suffered an accident it was like nothing happened to him. On this day that he turned sixteen, as he was doing window cleaning work in one of the highest buildings in his city, destiny gave him a birthday present that day called freefall because the safety harness broke allowing him to fall to the ground. His body ached, his sight is a little blurry and he can hear people talking around him; he understands every word pronounced about him, he understands that once again he suffers an accident and once again he survives like the last six years before that. He did not understand what was the reason for him to continue surviving, so Leben relaxed a little and let the ambulance staff do their work while he began to lose consciousness.
By Alvaro Talero5 years ago in Fiction
Celestial Chapter 1
I used to believe that the stars were always easier to see with my eyes closed…In the recesses of my dreams, the lights were always so much brighter. Nanna used to take us to the edge of the scared aqueous caverns to watch the falling stars. According to the legend, shooting stars were regarded as the rejects of the Constellations; beings that have lost their earned divinity because they couldn’t play by the rules. Lots of the civilians of the Pi would take this legend for verbatim; using it as a justification to hide themselves and squash the dreams of rambunctious little ones that hoped to spend just one more hour outside their sublimity ponds, just before bedtime peaked over twilight. I never believed in that though. The people of Pi were always so suffocating. Nanna always worked to calm the condemnations of the masses down in our household. Regardless, of what the Diviners had told us during lectures, their tales were always washed away by the smell of Nanna's baked honey poppy seed loaf. As we laughed and joked over her homemade sea-salt caramels, she would always help take the edge off the divining process; a process created to help prime pre-residents of Pi for the upcoming ascendency trials that would approach with our coming of age. Even though it was our duty as pre-residents of Pi to take up the challenge of bringing glory and fame to our land. A drawn-out journey that was crested by earning eternal divinity among the constellations through the ascendency trials, I never really saw it that way. The passing periods of divination school were always spent with tales of the riches and notoriety that would come if we were lucky enough to be chosen. No resident of Pi had earned the title in 350 years. Such a prize (once upon a time) brought wealth and riches to our land (for resource allocation was often unfairly distributed to lands that produced beings of higher merit and ascendancy). As the 12th and final nation of Zodai, we were always placed at a disadvantage but with this year being my year of entrance into the contestant pool there was an extra special hopefulness budding in the air. Blame, it on the begrudging title of being the abandoned offspring of Pi’s last constellation earners…
By Jessica Nwaigbo5 years ago in Fiction
