Fantasy
New experiences
“Come on! Let’s go!” “Where are we going?” The excitement of a new experience present in his voice. “You’ll see. Just come here.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him towards her, so he almost stumbled over the snow that had gathered on the ground overnight.
By Natalia Perez Wahlberg5 years ago in Fiction
Navin's Gift
The winter was unrelenting. The Great Lakes were almost completely frozen. The Coast Guard Icebreakers were out daily to keep the ferry routes working. The February thaw didn't happen, nor did March's. It was well into April, and the weather forecasters still couldn't deliver good news. There was nothing they could see that indicated any relief from the frigid temperatures. Punxsutawney Phil, Wiarton Willy, Jimmy the Groundhog, Dunkirk Dave, and Staten Island Chuck had been placed in protective custody. Stores were entirely out of any heating device, indoor or outdoor.
By Mary Haynes5 years ago in Fiction
Someone Among Us
Leaves shuddered in the after-storm wind, brisk yet more somber than the raging winds before. Dusky orange seeped into the landscape so that the hues of the leaves and grass appeared a deep bronzy gold. Nasira sighed as toes dipped into the water beneath the dock, ripples dancing over the wavering surface. It had been so long since she’d been able to just…breathe. To take in the musky scent of the nearby forest, drenched in pine and cedar and sage.
By R.C. McLeod5 years ago in Fiction
Frozen Souls
There were three things Tristan wished he had considered before pledging himself to this quest. Firstly, he wished he had remembered how much of a pain it was to travel in the wintertime. For a knight with his ranking and title, he was able to afford a decent pair of winter boots and snow shoes, but while the network of wood and rawhide bindings of the snow shoes were holding together quite nicely, the same could not be said of the boots whose fur linings were crusted into small spikes of ice.
By Morgan Berger5 years ago in Fiction
The Snap of Frost
I watched Clint get flicked off the leg into Duluth harbor. He looked tiny enough in my rearview mirror, but even more tiny against the enormous shadow of the barn a few feet above him. The legs of the chicken didn’t wobble or stagger at all under the tremendous weight of the barn when one of the legs purposefully flicked him aside.
By Anton Crane5 years ago in Fiction
The Necromancer
“How long has he been dead?” I ask the woman in front of my door. Her face glistening from the frozen tears on her face, she clasps a worn blanket over her shoulders. She wears an old threadbare gray dress underneath, barely enough to contend with the frigid cold outside. Her eyes are wide as she looks at me, but it’s as if she is looking past me.
By Blanca Nino5 years ago in Fiction
The Last Peaceful Night
Rain was pouring down in the streets of Paris; lighting flashes bathed the streets in a brief white light. The year was 1914, mid-summer night rains were to be expected this late into July, however a curious tingling crept at the edges of his consciousness. A foreboding aura hung in the air like a stubborn stink refusing to leave the nostrils in peace.
By Aiden von Ulf5 years ago in Fiction
Into the Abyss.
The three hour drive to Yacht Peninsular ends up being futile. On the way my analytical mind attempts to rationalise the situation. “Maybe that was his way of affirming my calling to Mermaid Beach? Maybe, I read the circumstance completely wrong? Maybe they are not together and he really was, just teaching her to surf? So, why not just be honest with me then? Why the pretence? And why the fuck am I once again, struggling to make sense of a situation that which makes no fucking sense!” I cannot cope with this any longer. I am hanging onto my existence by that of a mere thread and if I do not get some answers to the questions that which leave me a prisoner of my own mind very soon, I fear I will lose what little bit of strength in which I have left. By the time I get to Yacht Peninsular, I am fuelled with the urge to go back home and confront him. I am not quite sure how I will accomplish this when he blatantly refuses to talk to me, though? To help shine a little light on the darkest of places within that of my psyche, all that which pertain to him and exactly what his intentions are, to put me through this? I have no choice but to catch him off guard. Right now however, I need to try to get some sleep.
By Lauren Davey5 years ago in Fiction
Do You Hear What I Hear?
I am a Miami girl born and raised in Little Havana. My parents are Cuban immigrants that came to this city the same age I am now, 22. They had me at the age of 30 and my sister at 32. They struggled to do everything right and by the book so they weren’t stereotyped by all the negative connotations associated with being an immigrant. They became citizens, established their business, all while raising my sister and I. Majority of our community are fellow Cubans, but the city is just as diverse as the rest of Miami. I speak Spanish, but you couldn’t tell over my American accent unlike my parents. We blended in well and focused so much on being accepted in America that we never travelled outside of Miami. My parents were strict, but my good grades and honors gave me some leeway with them. It was not until I was older and able to travel on my own that I began exploring outside Little Havana expanding to outside of Miami to neighboring Florida cities.
By Christina DeFeo5 years ago in Fiction
