Fantasy
Magical Powers
Magical Powers A Sanguine Universe short story by James Golden Angel De La Noche Los Angeles, California 12:19 AM. Dorian Wade stepped from the driver's seat of his modified silver F1 McLaren. He ran a hand reflexively along his tightly wound braids and straightened his red and silver racing jacket, the words DAREDEVIL printed in large, stylized letters on the back. He was tall and good-looking, with a runner's body the color of cream coffee and eyes that had stared death in the face. As the McLaren's butterfly doors closed behind him, the race car purring, Dorian flicked on a pair of sunglasses, striding towards the club.
By James Golden5 years ago in Fiction
Loop
"Oh crap what have I done no I can fix this" I scream "Aaaaaaah" A blinding light and a sharp pain in my back are everything before I open my eyes. It is a sunny afternoon and I have been sleeping through my ride up the mountain. An arranged marriage, in this day and age makes no sense right well my parents just told me about it last week and here I am on a bus ride up a mountain to put an end to this nonsense. I already told them that I am going to marry my partner of over 4 years, but they will not drop it, so my plan is to meet up with whoever I am supposed to marry and hope they are the same as me.
By Brad Nguyen Vo5 years ago in Fiction
A Tale of Two Memories
“Captain? We’re losing the wind, shall we do another pass, or turn about? The H.M.S. Her Majesty rolled across the afternoon waves with its captain standing by her first mate's side at the helm. Her eyes tracked the smoke billowing up from the decks of the ship across the bow, its rigging falling from a charred and shattered main mast, the fires slowly spreading to the powder room below. Two days and a night's hunt had all led to this moment. A moment where Captain Diane Theed had won the day against these pirates in ruthless fashion.
By Nick Lehner5 years ago in Fiction
The guards return
Rising from the mists, surreal in creation, a wall peaks through the trees. Cresting the hyperion forest it flickers in and out of vision along the ridge. No matter how you approached, a mirage of magnificent forestry enveloped in the mists meets ones gaze. But underneath the projected imagery, a 40ft thick wall of Tremacite resided. A material so durable, the strongest earthquakes couldn’t destroy them. Three thousand miles in circumference, it houses the majority of the military might of the greatest civilization known to Samura. Farmlands, waterways, towns…all of them leading to the jeweled city; Trizanthia. The crowning achievement of the werewolf race, Trizanthia has remained hidden in these mountains for centuries. Within the palace grounds one being sits upon a gilded seat. Fur covered fingers coated in warm chocolate icing reach down for another piece of cake.
By Panda of Pandemonium5 years ago in Fiction
Hubris of a Captain
“Captain!” Thamore turned with no ease and the deck boards underfoot creaked as his feet shifted and his body turned to face the darkened doorway that led to the lower deck. He had sent his first mate below to search for it, a prized treasure rumored to have been on this ship.
By Michael Bivens5 years ago in Fiction
The Rings
The Rings The sun rose slowly and begin to peak through the window blinds. Its beautiful hue may have been the reason I rose but honestly it was to see if you were dead yet. A blessing that I hope for every time I wake from a dream. As I slowly opened my eyes, I could see the light hitting my prized statues on the dresser. I reclosed them because I knew that once again God had forsaken me by allowing me to wake another day. The disappointment, as usual, was palpable. I need to get my bearings these days before I move. Lately I’ve experienced dizziness and the chances of me falling and breaking a hip is high for my age. I miss the days when I could just bounce out of bed, alas that hasn’t been possible for many decades. The birds are chirping next to the window because HE decided that it would be nice for the bird feeder to be right outside our window. I can feel my mouth curling into that familiar look of disgust. I run my bony thin fingers through my thinning hair and stop as I feel some of the hair pull away in my hand. I really hate this feeling of despair that begins to build in my chest. It is so frequent with its intensity that I have to pause just to fully allow it to leave my body. Don’t let anyone tell you that growing old is graceful or enlightening. It is pain and torture.
By Makeda Grant5 years ago in Fiction
Dark Sweet Death
I don't remember much about the day I died, only the taste of something dark and sweet. I had planned to get up early, but things took a turn. Glancing at my phone while trying to snooze the alarm, I realize I'm already late. No time for a shower or a shave. In a panic, I throw on clothes. Rushing to the car I drop my keys while trying to juggle coffee, a laptop bag and my lunch. I bend down quickly to pick them up when the awful sound of my pants ripping makes me gasp. Startled, I spill hot coffee all down the front of my last clean shirt. It is at this very moment I realize this will not be a good day.
By Stewart Brewer5 years ago in Fiction
