Fantasy
Too Hot to Handle
The sweat dripped from my eyebrow and fell to my eyelash. I felt it, as more slid down to the tip of my nose, before I could wipe it with my gym towel. Out of breath was an understatement, but pushing my body past its limits was the only relief I had felt for months. I needed a break. I followed the speckled carpet straight into the women's locker room. I stopped in front of my locker 135, but I knew I wasn't leaving yet. The sauna was calling to me and I had recently begun using binaural beats for meditations. I needed any kind of relief that the world had to offer and my therapist had suggested it a few weeks back. To be honest, it was a close second to the strenuous workouts. I got into the habit of using the sauna everyday, it became my private sanctuary where I could unwind without being disturbed. Today, I wanted that more than anything; or so I thought.
By CreatingAkasha 5 years ago in Fiction
Gabriela and the mad dragon
Bulger is slammed against the wall before he can bring his shield up. Sandi fires her bolt striking the creature in the neck just under the jaw. Thrashing about one of its clawed hands rakes across Bulgers chest, but his armor hold. Gabriela draws her sword without thinking and charges the creature. It lashes out at her but its arm it severed by Bulgers shield, which has a sharp circular blade at the bottom.
By Nathan Cleve Durham5 years ago in Fiction
Granny's House
Behind Granny’s house, I see all kinds of fantastic creatures. She has a stone fountain with an archer boy in it, and around that a patch of marigolds bloom, tall grass goes to the end of the garden, where taller flowers stand, like green men in strange and wonderful hats.
By Logan Smith5 years ago in Fiction
Once
They gathered in little groups and spoke to each other in hushed tones, discreetly covering over their mouths as they whispered quietly back and forth to each other. There was no comfortable place to be found here. The air was pulsing with nervous energy. People wandered about the room trying to distract themselves from the burden of waiting. Ladies smoothed out their clothing. Children forced to sit quietly, kicked their legs back and forth. Most of the men chose to pace, occasionally nodding grimly when someone met their gaze. Each found little solace in what small diversions they could invent as they waited in these predawn hours.
By Cate Simon5 years ago in Fiction
Into the Abyss.
Sitting on my kitchen floor, typing into the Google engine of my phone, I recall the first time in which it was affirmed that he could hear me. Not just under the pretence that my phone is tapped, but that he can actually hear me, as though he has somehow turned my phone into a listening device. I was mortified at the time. I yelled at him, “I take my phone to the toilet sometimes, Zabian! For fucks sake! How deep does this go? You must know everything about me. My entire life is at the reach of your fingertips and I know next to nothing about you, aside from that which I learned of you at university!” The radio was on at the time, as it generally was during those days, and the song that which was playing suddenly stops midway, to where the radio presenter says, “Nobody knows your entire life, but you!” The song then commences again. Yup! That was the first real confirmation in which I received that he can most definitely, hear me! Of course, I had my suspicions for a while, but until that moment I was not one hundred percent certain.
By Lauren Davey5 years ago in Fiction
Bride of a Water God
Clouds plumed forth from my breath as I huffed out the chilly air. Winter had a way of dampening everything including sound, so my huff was not heard. I gave sideways glance up. Well maybe it was heard, but the emotions, too, were prone to the frost. The way his hunched shoulders told me that he had heard and refused to address it. He continued to hack at the thick plate of ice trying to make a hole in the center of the pond.
By E. J. Strange5 years ago in Fiction
Winters Tempest
The man awoke with a start dripping in cold sweat despite the freezing wind cutting through him. He was disorientated and unsure of his surroundings, he sat up and looked around attempting to gain his bearings. He could ascertain upon quick reasoning that he had awoken in a cave though how he had come to be there he could not recall. It’s then the man realized that was not all he couldn’t recall, he was unsure of his name or age or even where he was from. He couldn’t recall his parents or if he even had parents to remember. An icy wind rips through the cave drawing in freshly fallen snow but this is no ordinary wind the man can tell instantly. As if his thoughts summons the manifestation of them the wind began to swirl around the cave faster and faster till the snow inside looked like a tornado. From within the cyclone a figure appeared, it was taller than a man and stood hunched and looked almost translucent.
By Asher Fenix5 years ago in Fiction
C O N F I D E N C E
The sun was already low when the two met. Each of them dug the other's grave. The experienced killer dug his deep as the other realized how shallow his grave was. They were going to fight on a hill with a pear tree. The men dug in silence. When they were done, both of them stood in between the graves marking the arena they would fight in.
By K.I. McLemore5 years ago in Fiction
The Sorcerers
Below is the first draft of Beggledert: The Sorcerers. My quill stops. It hovers in the evening air above parchment. In a gilded mirror, I glimpse my furrowed brows over worried green eyes, and note that my long black moustache and beard should have been trimmed during the waxing of the last full moon. Exiling the reflection, I focus once more on twilight beyond my window.
By D. ALEXANDRA PORTER5 years ago in Fiction
Circle of Blood
There was perhaps something to be said about Edward Kelley. He didn't get bored easily. Between the general monotony of the castle and occasional letters, there were plenty of reasons that he could have been. But all those reasons were a bit lacking in fine detail or touching on what he tended to do. If anyone were to look in on him during some points of his day, they would have seen the heavy curtains drawn, a wavering fire sputtering away in the fireplace, and heard the constant scratching of a quill against parchment. But people would have only been seeing Edward Kelley at work.
By Minte Stara5 years ago in Fiction
