Fantasy
The Legend of the Banana-trunk Girl
Sonata was the most beautiful girl in town. She was benign. She was a Maria Clara, an epitome of a perfect Filipina. She had captured the hearts of all the boys in town. The rich boys from the neighboring towns would visit her regularly to court and lay their love on her. She was a daughter of a gobernadorcillo who was a Draconian. No boy could talk to her outside the house. Townsfolk knew that to be able to talk to her, one should pay her a visit and ask first for her father’s approval. Her father, Don Luisito, was a descendant of a powerful Spaniard, who was a confidante of Governor-General Miguel Lopez de Legazpi. That meant she was untouchable. A Spanish firing squad would execute anyone who dared touch her.
By M.G. Maderazo5 years ago in Fiction
Aria Ambrosia
It was the spring after our thirteenth birthday. After a long morning of never-ending classes, we retreated out the kitchen door to nature. The sun was high in the sky with a cool wind to keep the temperature right. My sister Anastasia and I fled to the canopy of the East Wood to stretch our wings a bit. The rich scent of honey suckles filled the air as we flew through the meadow that filled the space between the woods and castle. When we landed on the first few outstretched branches the damp moss was soft under our bare feet.
By Freyja Crown5 years ago in Fiction
A shout from beyond the pond
“Emer, wait up!” Farley called to their older brother, as he skated up ahead of them. The first frosts had come practically overnight, rolling in soft and magickal and making the siblings don their skates early that morning, wanting to get out on the pond first before any of the other kids in town got there.
By Cereal Oatmeal 5 years ago in Fiction
The Eagle in Winter
Note from author: Don't forget to check out "Opening Moves" for the beginning of the battle between Lur and Marcus. Marcus Longinus, tribune laticlavius and acting legate of the IV Legion of Atlas, wandered silently through the tall frozen forests of Campania. He stared down at his boots as they, step by step, crunched through the thick snow beneath him. The air around him was was almost silent, save for the crumpling snow beneath his feet. The feint sounds of pots banging and voices calling echoed from the castra the legion had set up the previous night. A few of the cries belonged to women and children, those humans liberated from slavery in the raids on the Ogodai villages. But all of this was fading as Marcus made his way deeper into the forest and away from his men.
By Tomos Jackson5 years ago in Fiction
The Bow
Prologue Chapter One Chapter Two “You killed Adam?” Quinn flinched as her best friend spoke in surprise. She simply nodded, unable to formulate a sentence. Immediately after her conversation with the mystery man, she had no other thought than to call Callie back to the small town house she and Adam had shared up until two weeks ago; up until she had murdered her own fiancée.
By Lindsay Dewolfe5 years ago in Fiction
Monsters: Chapter 2
The rain drummed heavily against the windshield of the large truck that sped down the country lane, the heavy droplets echoing within the vehicle and filling Curtis’ ears with an unrelenting cacophony. He had been warned by his sister before he left that a storm was coming through Washington from the Pacific, but he did not realise the magnitude, and now wished he had waited until the following morning for it to pass. His journey across state had been delayed multiple times due to road closures and flood warnings, causing him to detour through long and dubious country roads that had caused his shoulders to stiffen and his body to slump.
By Sam Averre 5 years ago in Fiction
Valentine's Day at the Macbeths
Breakfast at Glamis Castle, home of Lord and Lady (soon to be King and Queen) Macbeth was never a particularly jolly affair. Apart from the appalling draughts that blew down the length of the dining room through all the ill-fitting windows, there was the recurring problem of the awkward questions that flew across the breakfast table between the castle’s chief occupants.
By John Welford5 years ago in Fiction
The Old Alchemist Who Bottled Death
There once was an old alchemist who made his living by bottling beloved bedtime stories and the most cherished memories. This old alchemist knew stories were made from ink and imagination, but he also knew they had a smell and even a taste if you just knew where to look.
By Jessica Burns Piraino5 years ago in Fiction
