Fantasy
Necklace of Memories (4)
Emrys, an Investigator, saw the raven leave the town and glide lazily upriver towards the hills, as the valley was beginning to brighten as the sun rose from the sea. His sharp eyes noticed the silver ring on its rooks leg, denoting it was a Brandweud,one of the noble magical messengers. The elf then turned his gaze towards the town nestled by the river at the bottom of the hill, which was in the demesne of Lord Lennox. Speaking aloud to his mute companion behind him he said “I wonder what self serving machination that bird is being sent on now?” Emrys turned to gaze at the cold figure behind him. Tanwen, an investigators bodyguard called a Beddmilwr, was an undead former investigator. She had rested her long axe called a bardiche against a snow laden pine, as Emrys regarded her with a quiet despair. She had been his bodyguard for nearly twenty years now, blandly obeying his gentle instructions all those years. “Come, let's at least get a warm cup of mead and a warm night's sleep indoors at the Dolphin Inn“ said Emrys, stamping the snow from his boots.
By Ian Hambly5 years ago in Fiction
Lucky
"What was that you said before, love? 'Let's take the train, dear. We shouldn't strain you much more than we already have.' Something like that?" snarked a short woman with long, golden-haired as she raises her steel tonfas up to protect herself from a massive white talon. The muscles on her arms bulge as she guards against the impact.
By Tyler C Douglas5 years ago in Fiction
Twenty-six Years
All it took was one look and I nearly lost all control of my animalistic nature. The moment she looked into my eyes for the first time, I knew I’d never be the same. But my life had already been changing, so much so that I hardly recognized myself. It had been twenty-six years since I first caught her scent. Twenty-six years since I began to shed the layers of solitude I’d wrapped around myself like a shell to protect me from this cruel world.
By Taylor Westwood5 years ago in Fiction
The second smile in eternity
They’d have called it a desert, if there had been anyone to call it anything. It was a desolate plain of rock and dust, stretching endlessly in every direction. There was no life. Not an animal, not an insect, not a tiny green shoot, not even the skeletal remains of some ancient creature long since dead. Nothing could exist here. Nothing ever had.
By David McClenaghan5 years ago in Fiction
Symptoms Of The Valley
Today is another day wrapped in mystery missions and hot summer days at our lake house. My parents are here taking a break from traveling and “questionable occurrences”. Sometimes you need to reset and relax, but it does not stop them from talking about their missions with the families around us. Uncle Wren is here along with three other families in the secret mission business. It is great to see other’s that are just like me. Some of them are recorders others are not. We all have different jobs, for example, there are historians, researchers, negotiators, accountants, public relations, and customer service. Sure, there are inside names we go by, but this is how we appeal to the outside world when doing our secret mission work. I identify as a historian (recorder) but also have researcher qualities. I mean you cannot tell everyone what is going on in a “secret mission” business right?
By LATANYA N CHATFIELD5 years ago in Fiction
Eyelash rains of marigold
A whirling dervish caught Freya’s eye as she scanned the earth’s surface seeking Odr. Joy it was to forget all her troubles, to fling herself upon a tornado, to catch an upbound thermal and soar: bliss, in fact. Falcons circled ridges, rising in similar fashion. She swung arms to breast in a human hug before stretching her cloak of magic feathers and winging into the swirling air. The Lady felt a twitch as her left wing caught lift; she steeped her body into a counterclockwise turn, missed the rising air, tried again. Soaring was tricky, even for a goddess.
By Barbara Steinhauser 5 years ago in Fiction
