Fantasy

Wet Punishment
Mang Pedong, the witch doctor, thought it was the diwata. He had a similar case before. A naughty kid who was taken to him because of a water-swollen penis. “Did you urinate at the foot of an old tree or on an anthill?”
By M.G. Maderazo5 years ago in Fiction
The raging bull
The bar’s neon sign flickered weakly against the darkened sky, casting faint shadows over the dust-covered parking lot. Inside, the air was thick with the staleness of spilled beer and bitter resentment. Chuck Dower sat at the bar, his broad shoulders hunched over a whiskey glass. He looked like a man whose best days were behind him, though no one in the room dared to say it aloud. At 40, Chuck was a titan of the town—a rancher who once commanded respect through his sheer presence. But tonight, he was just a man grappling with heartbreak and humiliation. Across the room, Daisy Miller laughed softly, her voice a melody that Chuck could pick out of any crowd. She was sitting with Zeke Tannen, the new kid in town, a wiry 21-year-old with a cocky grin and a gleam of youth Chuck could never reclaim. Daisy wasn’t the kind of woman you forgot easily. Her dark waves of hair framed a face that could switch from mischief to menace in seconds. She wasn’t kind or particularly graceful, but she had a magnetic pull that made men think they’d found salvation—or destruction. Chuck had thought she was his forever, but now, here she was with him. Zeke leaned back in his chair, his boots propped casually on the table. He looked like he didn’t have a care in the world. That infuriated Chuck. “How dare she bring him here?” Chuck muttered to himself. This wasn’t just a bar; it was his bar, his refuge from the world. And now she was parading her new fling right under his nose. “Francis!” Chuck barked at the bartender. Francis, a wiry man with thinning hair and a perpetual nervous energy, approached cautiously. “Yeah, Chuck?” “Send them a drink,” Chuck growled. “Her usual and… a glass of milk for the boy.” Francis hesitated, but Chuck’s dark eyes dared him to refuse. Moments later, Daisy and Zeke stared at the drinks now in front of them. “What’s this?” Zeke asked, lifting the milk with a bemused smirk. “Chuck’s way of saying hi,” Daisy said, her voice laced with irritation. Zeke grinned, leaning toward Francis. “Send him a daiquiri. Put a little umbrella in it, too.” Francis looked horrified. “You don’t want to do that, kid.” But Zeke insisted, and a minute later, Chuck stared at the bright pink drink, umbrella and all. His face darkened like a brewing storm. “You think this is funny?” Chuck snarled, standing. Zeke rose to meet him, unflinching. “Not funny. Just fair.” The tension thickened as the bar’s few patrons edged toward the walls. Chuck towered over Zeke, but the younger man didn’t budge. “Enough!” Daisy’s voice cut through the room. She stood between them, hands on her hips. “You want to settle this? Fine. Let’s see who’s really got the guts.” She pointed toward the corner of the bar. “Let’s see who can last the longest on The Raging Bull.” The room fell silent. The Raging Bull The mechanical bull wasn’t just a bar attraction; it was a legend. Built decades ago by a rodeo-obsessed mechanic, it was said to be the meanest, most unforgiving ride in the state. Its glowing red eyes and smoke-snorting nostrils weren’t for show—they were a promise. Over the years, it had thrown riders into walls, cracked ribs, and broken bones. It had even claimed a few lives. The sheriff had shut it down years ago, but Francis had never been able to bring himself to dismantle it. Now it stood as a dusty relic in the corner, a reminder of its bloody history. “You can’t be serious,” Francis stammered. “Nobody’s ridden that thing since—” “Turn it on,” Daisy said firmly. Francis hesitated, but the looks on Chuck and Zeke’s faces told him this wasn’t up for debate. Chuck vs. The Bull Chuck went first. He climbed onto the bull with practiced confidence, though the years of wear showed in his slower movements. “Start it up, Francis,” he said, gripping the reins. The bull came to life, its red eyes glowing ominously as smoke hissed from its nostrils. It began with a slow sway, almost mocking Chuck before it erupted into violent bucks. Chuck held on, his massive frame jolting with each movement. But the bull was relentless, and after 90 grueling seconds, it launched him off like a rag doll. He crashed into the bar with a groan. “How’d I do?” he asked, breathless. “Ninety seconds,” Francis said. Chuck smirked. “Let’s see you beat that, boy.” Zeke’s Turn Zeke approached the bull with the calm confidence of someone who’d been in tougher spots. He adjusted his grip, gave Daisy a wink, and nodded at Francis. The bull started slow, but as soon as Zeke found his rhythm, it ramped up. The machine bucked and twisted with a fury that seemed almost alive. But Zeke didn’t falter. His years of rodeo experience showed in every movement. The bull grew angrier, its speed increasing until it was a blur of smoke and metal. By the four-minute mark, the crowd was holding its breath. When the timer hit five minutes, the bull stopped, defeated. Zeke dismounted with a cocky grin. “Well?” he said, looking at Chuck. “No hard feelings, right?” The Final Showdown Chuck’s face darkened. “You take my girl, my pride, and now you want no hard feelings?” He grabbed the shotgun from under the bar. The room froze. “Chuck!” Daisy gasped. “You’re coming with me, Daisy,” Chuck said, his voice trembling. “Or no one’s walking out of here alive.” Zeke stepped forward, calm and steady. “Put the gun down, old man. This isn’t the way.” Chuck’s hands shook, torn between rage and regret. Before he could act, the door slammed open. Two gunshots echoed through the room. The sheriff stood in the doorway, his revolver smoking. Chuck crumpled to the floor, his rage extinguished. “Figured something was up when I saw that damn bull running,” the sheriff muttered. “Someone want to tell me what happened here?” Francis stammered an explanation, but Zeke turned to Daisy. “You still owe me that ride home,” he said, grinning. Daisy smiled, slipping her arm through his. “Let’s go.” As they disappeared into the night, the Raging Bull sat silent once more, its red eyes fading. It had seen its fair share of legends, and tonight, it added one more.
By K-jay5 years ago in Fiction
Clock Struck
Feeling the early morning grog, Hans blindly groped for the clock to stop the all too familiar signal for the start of the day. He tried to rub his eyes awake with curled fingers screwing awake-ness into his vision. Victorious, he tested his focus on the details of the overhead fan circulating the air. All was good. He got up and sat on the edge of the bed, then started his morning routine: selected work attire from the closet: Coat, shirt, pants, shoes, tie; freshened up in the bathroom, and brushing teeth, then combed hair. Did it seem thinner and grayer than yesterday? He mused as he walked to the dresser and finished dressing in front of the mirror, which hung on the wall.
By Allen J Dunckley5 years ago in Fiction
The Bow
July 19th, 2008 The sun shone brightly in the bright blue, cloudless sky. The young girl sat down, eyeing her surroundings skeptically. Everything about this seemed off; something wasn’t right.
By Lindsay Dewolfe5 years ago in Fiction
The Love Box
This is a story about a box that changed my life, and my perspective on life. “Darling you need to wake up, your alarm went about half an hour ago and I thought I heard someone at the front door too?”
By Dean Gee5 years ago in Fiction
Big brown paper box
The Big Brown Paper Box It was just another ordinary day, or so I thought. I was walking home from work, something I did everyday except Saturday and Sundays. When I got home it was my usual routine, kick off my shoes, take off my bra and sit down and have a nice cold Twisted Tea. Those are one of my favorites, hands down. This was what I called the unwinding part of my day. Monday through Friday I worked with kids and as much as I love them, it was very very tiring. Anyway after about an hour of chillaxing, I decided I wanted to get up and start my dinner. I was eating chicken quesadilla’s tonight and I had to go to my mini garden inside my backyard to grab some peppers. As I'm gathering the peppers, from the corner of my eye to my left I saw something that was very unusual. It was unusual because nothing should have been there. So I fixed my eyes to the direction of the shadowy figure and I saw that it was a big box. An exceptionally big paper box. Of course I became startled because this wasn’t in my front yard or anything, it was in my backyard. And in order to get into my backyard you literally needed to go through my house. So im standing there, looking at the box, and slowly backing away. Whatever peppers I had, was all I was going to gather cause girlfriend was out ok. Anyway I get into the house and I call my friend Omar. When I called him he could clearly tell that something was wrong and said he’d be to my house in 5 minutes. So while I’m waiting for him, one of my neighbors came over because she needed some basil and peppers herself. I’m thinking to myself cool, she’ll see the box to and maybe we will open it. The strangest thing happened though, she didn’t see the box. She never brought it up, as a matter fact she actually walked right through it. My facial expression clearly showed that something was wrong because she asked if I was ok, and said I looked like I had just saw a ghost. I told her I was fine and said that I had just forgotten about something I didn’t do at work. She brought it, she thanked me for the basil and peppers and went on home. As she was going down the steps Omar was making his way up the steps. Omar had been my friend since we were kids, honestly we are definitely more than friends. The point was I didn’t think that he would think I was crazy if he couldn’t see the box either. So we went into the house and he’s like Nesh what’s wrong? I say just follow me to the backyard. So he does, and once were out there his first question was where did this huge behind box come from? I breathed out this big sense of relief, he was confused. I had told him that my neighbor couldn’t see the box so I was worried that he wouldn’t either. He said how didn’t she see this big old box, I was like I have no idea.
By Venesha Owen5 years ago in Fiction
Alaina's Ticket Home
Lyla opened her eyes. Her head pounded as she tried to focus on the shadowy figure above her. “Where am I? Is this a dream?”
By Jennifer Christiansen5 years ago in Fiction
The Mysterious Package
The Mysterious Package By Charley Faraday The old woman woke up. Through tired and bleary eyes, she looked at the analogue clock that sat on her bedside table. Its hands pointed to read seven-thirty in the morning. "Time to get up.", she said in a quiet voice to herself. Nancy Tingle was an elderly woman of seventy-five years old. She liked to keep her long gray hair done up in a top-bun, just as she had when she was a young secretary at a dentist's office when she was twenty-four. As she did up her hair she thought to herself, "But, oh, that was a long time ago, back when I met Walter." Walter had been hired as the dentist's assistant when they had first met. The moment their eyes met for the first time, they both knew it was love at first sight. One year later, they would become husband and wife. It wasn't until Nancy was seventy-two that her Walter would soon pass away. However, Nancy stayed devoted to her beloved husband even after his passing. She still remembers how he would say her name. "Nancy, I love you…", his words echoed in her mind. She began venturing down the stairs, her old bones aching with each step, and made her way to the kitchen to brew herself some raspberry tea to have with breakfast. As she went to the door to recover the morning newspaper, the doorbell rang. She looked at the clock on the wall which indicated it was now eight-fifteen. "My word, it's too early for any visitors.", She voiced to herself. She made her way slowly to the front door and opened it. It was a postal delivery man. He was holding a brown paper package. "Mrs. Tingle? Please sign here for your delivery.", he told her. She signed for the package and brought it in alongside the newspaper on her doorstep. Nancy carried the mysterious package into the kitchen and sat it on the table across from where she ate her breakfast, and stared at it. She knew very well she hadn't ordered anything, it wasn't her birthday either. When she was done eating her morning meal, she got up and washed her dishes, then turned her attention back to this very strange and sudden package. "Well," she said, "I might as well open it… it was addressed to me after all." She looked at the shipping label and saw it made mention that the return address was the same as the return address. "How odd.", she thought, "How could that be?" There was no other name on the package except her own. The mystery of this package began to grow even more, as well as her curiosity. She started gingerly unwrapping the brown paper covering the box. When finally completely unwrapped, she opened the plain white box. Inside were smaller boxes, also white in color. Ten total, to be exact. On top of the smaller boxes lay a beautiful postcard with two flying white doves with a red rose between their beaks. She picked up the postcard and read it. "My dearest and most beloved, Nancy. I can't give you back the time we missed while we were apart during my deployment in the war. However, I can give you something so that I can share the memories with you. I'm sorry I didn't do this sooner. I want you to always remember I was with you in spirit; and that I will always love you, even if I can't be with you. Love always, Your Walter." Nancy looked at the date written on the postcard, and gasped. He had written the postcard two months before his passing. She checked the date on the package for when it was issued. It was the same date! But why was it delivered so late? She looked back at the postcard. "P.S. - I made arrangements for this package to be delivered on our anniversary when you are seventy-five years young, my beautiful Nancy." Nancy clutched the postcard to her chest and tried not to cry. A single tear escaped her. "I love you too, my dear Walter." She had forgotten it would be their anniversary today. She moved on to the small boxes that lay nestled in the postal box in front of her. As she opened them, each box contained a picture of him at a monument specific to each country he had been deployed to, while he served in the American Navy during World War two. With each picture was a conjoined keepsake from the same place as the photo to commemorate his travels during his absence. "I will cherish these, all my days, Walter… and one day soon, I will see you again." … To be continued.
By Charley Faraday5 years ago in Fiction
The Curious Case of the Missing Dancers
There is something so beautiful about a dancer. I mean, the way they can let go and lose themselves to a melody... When I watch a dance performance, I am mesmerized by the way dancers express themselves and become vulnerable.
By Sandra M5 years ago in Fiction
Vessels (Part 4)
Ashira grumbled as she exited the temple. She didn’t understand why she had to leave the catacombs. She knew Jeshed worked with the dead and it was he who had told her that she didn’t have anything to fear from them; that she should be more afraid of crocodiles when playing near the river. But Jeshed also said that a girl shouldn’t be present during certain rituals. He then finished by saying he couldn’t let her be on her own in the temple, to undoubtedly pester the other priests. Thus, she had been exiled from the calm coolness of her home and ousted into the loud brightness of the day.
By Rachael Dunn5 years ago in Fiction
Blades Free Weekend
It’s been a long day, I thought as I finally turned onto my street. Oddly quit too. I don’t even recall seeing Edgar and Destiny at lunch or the rest of the day now that I think about it. They must have done me the honor of skipping school right before lunch. Although I didn’t see them, it didn’t stop me from feeling paranoid all day. I kept thinking I'd come around a corner and run right into one or both of them and get the whole day's worth of torture then and there. It made for a very long and stressful day.
By Kelsey Ranae Wood5 years ago in Fiction
A Witch's Story
Although very simple, this story came to me after a very excitingly active evening with the fae. I have attempted to record myself reading it multiple times, and between the wind in my current location, and not enough space on my device, I have decided to type it here, and will continue to work on the reading as I move around along my journey.
By Jami Larson5 years ago in Fiction