Fantasy
As Ash of Man
Ash layers high stone walls and snags on the spikes of twisted chain-link. It clings to the skeletons of blackened factories and stripped warehouses and Nissen huts whose corrugated iron skin; peeled from its body long ago by scavengers, wanderers, and the strong polluted winds that murder steadily west. Car engines still rumble in sooty streets, voices static in the speakers that spill from their shattered windows. And then there are the bodies, the shadows of this once industrial land, long forgotten and mummified by ash, stiff and faded like material ghosts, never moving nor speaking but always watching.
By Andrew J.P Lord5 years ago in Fiction
The Coffee Opinion
By Thomas G Robinson When I stepped out of the tent, a supposed five-person tent that I remember getting online at Amazon, yeah, it was right after I got my second shot of the Pfizer vaccine. Not that that matters, because my only worry right now is if all the coffee is gone. I needed to get up and start this day. Still, it was kind of a shock to feel the cold of the forest grounds. Little rocks, sticks, blades of grass and weeds that were poking and tickling my feet were a cold awakening to the early morning sun blinding my vision briefly.
By Thomas G Robinson5 years ago in Fiction
A Final Act of Mercy
The queen sat uncomfortably, slouching on the table, clutching a pear from the royal orchards, her sharp and pristine nails delicately grazing the skin. It had been shined to a mirror’s edge, her dark eyes reflected in its surface, along with the others around the table, her advisors in all things regarding the kingdom and its wellbeing. She ignored their reflections and instead focused on her eyes, as if they were from another, someone with more courage than she felt she possessed.
By Ethan J Bearden5 years ago in Fiction
Vemadea
A secret world is hidden in the astral planes. There are legends and tales of this place that has never been found or seen by mortal eyes. Only rare, gifted individuals have visited by practice of projective dream walking. This is the realm of the deities.
By Ravelyn Nightingale5 years ago in Fiction
Ghost Writer
Finally, oh finally! The day has come when I can use my voice again on this plane. I must be calm, I must use my time wisely. David only goes to lunch one day a week, and he is usually gone for just under two hours. It is the surest schedule I can rely on. Happiness burns inside me so brightly that I am certain I would be glowing if it wasn’t broad daylight.
By Lady Britton5 years ago in Fiction
Letting Go
I run as fast as my feet can carry me, although these stupid heels aren’t helping matters any. My dress is heavy, not unlike the burdens and responsibilities that my parents are expecting out of me right now. The crisp winter chill feels refreshing as it rushes against my sweaty exposed skin. Racing to get to the center of our garden, tucked away behind tall hedges and a gate that only I access is the only place I want to be right now.
By Jacqueline Budgick5 years ago in Fiction
Esmerelda Pearheart
Welcome to Pear Tree Boulevard. Where sweet fragrances bounce with the wind, amongst the different trees and flowering buds. Beautiful and exquisite in its own way. Hundreds, in fact, thousands of Pears reside within Pear Tree Boulevard. It would be considered the New York City of the Pear Community. The Main Lane connects to City of Baskets which is the posh high-end shopping mall, plus town, where Pears can socialize with other fruit from various orchards and vineyards. In fact, Dragon Town is the neighboring field to Pear Tree Boulevard. Dragon Town is known for the exotic dragon fruit who are all about performance and the arts, namely known by the Great Dragina. She is the Superstar Model of Dragon Town. Her image captivates the heart of her town, the other dragon fruits and other fruit types who many wish to be as wonderful as Dragina. But wait, let’s roll back a moment as this story is swept up in Pear Tree Boulevard with three sisters, Veridian, Jade, and mainly Esmerelda Pearheart.
By Leni Koski5 years ago in Fiction
The Woman and the Wanderer
He felt intrusive in these moments. They were so personal, devoid of violence or hate… Yet the air was acrid with the complex emotions of pain and bitter joy. Life and death occurring in the same exact instance. The child’s first cry filled the air. She was cradled in the arms of her mother as her father whimpered into the hair of his wife. He begged her not to go, enveloping them both in his tired arms. He could not have known that her shade already stood across the room, watching at the side of a god.
By Kaitlyn Martin5 years ago in Fiction
Charred
Ashes were thick in my throat, but I had to keep going. They were here…somewhere. I knew they were. They had to be. But wading through the piles of broken and charred bits of what was left of the town made the fragile shoot of hope within me wilt more by the second.
By J. D. Everly5 years ago in Fiction
