Fantasy
The Porch Light Still Glows ( today I miss my mom)
Today, I miss my mom. There’s nothing significant about the date. It’s not Mother’s Day, not her birthday, not even the anniversary of her passing. It’s just a regular Thursday in May, the kind of day she used to call “good porch-sitting weather.” The kind of day she’d pour two glasses of sweet tea and say, “Come sit with me for a spell.” She’s been gone for almost four years now, but grief doesn’t care about the calendar. It shows up when it wants—softly, suddenly, and without warning. Today, it showed up in the middle of my lunch break, when I spotted her favorite sunflowers blooming by the fence. I grew up in a small town in Kentucky, where the summers are sticky and the people wave when they pass you on the road. Mom was the heart of our home—always baking, always humming Patsy Cline, always reminding me to say “please” and “thank you” and “don’t forget to write your grandma a thank-you note.” She taught me how to balance a checkbook, how to drive on gravel roads, and how to fry chicken the right way.
By Dr Gabriel about a year ago in Fiction
Razello and the Crystal of Aranthor Part 2:Rise of the fallen King
Peace is not everlasting. One year after the Crystal of Aranthor was restored, the village of Windermoor thrived. Razello and his companions—Kael, Mira, Thorne, and Pip—had become mythical figures. But in the desolate lands, a presence stirred beneath the ruins of Varnok’s fortress. It began with murmurs in dreams, icy winds morphing into voices. Then the skies became overcast for days. Wildlife fled in terror. Rivers froze beneath the summer’s warmth. From the darkness emerged a daunting new foe: King Malgron, the former guardian of Aranthor, now tainted by a cursed artifact—the Obsidian Crown. Folklore spoke of Malgron being betrayed by the original guardians. Resurrected now, he sought vengeance against the world that forsook him. Razello led his band to uncover the mysteries of the bizarre disappearances near the mountains. They discovered villages reduced to ash, their inhabitants gone. On a burnt hill, they confronted a colossal figure shrouded in jagged black armor. “Return the Crystal,” Malgron commanded, his voice resembling cracking stone. “Or I shall reshape this world in shadow.” Razello stepped forward courageously. “The Crystal is meant for the light, not for tyrants.” With a flick of his wrist, Malgron summoned distorted creatures—wolves with searing gazes and armored ravens with slicing wings. A fierce battle commenced. Kael loosed arrows in quick succession, but they merely bounced off the monsters. Mira’s magic flickered weakly against the evil forces. Thorne roared in defiance, holding them off like a mountain. Pip leaped to protect Mira, tossing explosive acorns. Razello charged at Malgron, blades glinting, yet Malgron intercepted him mid-strike. "You are no hero," he hissed before casting Razello into the abyss. “RAZELLO!” Mira cried out. The world faded into darkness. --- Razello awoke in a cavern, alone, battered, and defeated. Days passed. He had failed. For the very first time on his journey, he felt helpless. But one night, a vision appeared to him. A luminous woman emerged—Althea, the former custodian of the Crystal. “You possess tremendous strength, Razello,” she said. “But you must cease fighting like a boy. The Crystal has chosen you. Allow it to unlock your true potential.” A blue light emerged from his heart—a fragment of the Crystal that had remained dormant within him since their initial confrontation. “I’m not finished yet,” Razello murmured. --- In the meantime, Malgron besieged Windermoor. Kael and Thorne fought valiantly to protect their home. Mira erected a barrier around the crystal shrine, but it began to crack. Pip scouted and returned with distressing news. “Malgron has constructed a dark fortress in the Wastes. And he’s amassing... an army of souls.” Devoid of Razello, their spirits waned. Until a lightning bolt split the sky—and a shadow descended into the village square. Razello appeared, eyes glowing blue, with twin daggers transformed into radiant crystal blades. “Miss me?” Cheers erupted. The team reunited. “You’re alive!” Mira exclaimed, embracing him. He nodded. “And more powerful.” --- They made their way to Malgron’s fortress—Fort Draegor, a colossal citadel entwined with black vines and hovering above the cursed Wastes. Inside, they encountered Malgron’s champions: Vyrexa, a sorceress of poison engulfed minds with despair. Dregnar, an obsidian ogre, is impervious to steel. And The Phantom Mirror, an accursed relic that summoned their darkest selves. Kael faced his shadow self—cold, merciless, solitary. Mira witnessed herself forsaking others. Thorne confronted his past— the battlefield he had abandoned. But Razello... Razello beheld himself kneeling before Malgron, tainted, crowned. He nearly succumbed—until Mira placed her hand on his shoulder. “You are more than destiny.” He shattered the mirror with a powerful strike. --- At the summit of Fort Draegor, they found Malgron seated upon a throne of skulls, the Obsidian Crown glowing fiercely. “So, you return,” he sneered. “I am not the same,” Razello asserted. Malgron bellowed and unleashed the full might of the Crown, summoning tempest and fire. Razello and his companions fought as one, back-to-back, blades singing, spells racing. Thorne took a hit meant for Mira. Pip bit Malgron’s ear. Kael shot a crystal-tipped arrow, shattering Malgron’s shoulder armor. Razello leaped into the storm, blades clashing fiercely with Malgron’s sword. “You are worthless without your allies,” Malgron jeered. “No,” Razello replied, slamming his fist into the ground. “I am everything because of them!” The shard within his chest throbbed—and the Crystal of Aranthor responded. A shaft of light burst from the heavens, piercing the Crown. Malgron screamed as the fortress began to collapse. --- They narrowly escaped, soaring on the wind conjured by Mira. Fort Draegor succumbed to darkness forever. Back in Windermoor, they were welcomed home with celebration. Kael finally smiled. Thorne was named captain of the village guard. Mira established a school of magic. Pip... pursued the role of mayor (and surprisingly, won). Razello stood beneath the stars once more. “Will darkness return?” he questioned. “Always,” Mira replied, joining him. “But the light will return too.” Razello smiled. The journey was far from ended. But together, they would face whatever came next.
By Sartaz Awalabout a year ago in Fiction
The Color That Waits
Ever since she could remember, seventeen-year-old Clara Monroe had been afraid of the color black. Not spiders, not heights, not death—black. It was more than a fear. It was a sickness in her chest, a clawing in her brain. Black wasn’t just a color—it was a presence. When she was a child, she told her mother that black people “watched” her. Her parents thought it was a phase. But it never went away.
By V-Ink Storiesabout a year ago in Fiction
The Fantasy Is Us
No one noticed when the bookstore changed. It stood on the corner of Elm and Briar, its windows always fogged up in winter, its door adorned with a rusted bell that rang a little off-key. “Evermore Books” had been there for generations, though most people passed it without a second glance—too busy with deadlines, dog walks, and dull weather.
By Salar Khanabout a year ago in Fiction
Razello and the Crystal of Aranthor
In the serene village of Windermoor, surrounded by mountains and mist, a boy named Razello resided. With wild black hair, inquisitive eyes, and aspirations of adventure, Razello yearned for excitement. He had faithful companions—four distinct allies:
By Sartaz Awalabout a year ago in Fiction
