Fantasy
The Day My Refrigerator Tried to Kill Me
Let me start by saying I did not expect to be attacked by my own fridge on a Tuesday. Tuesdays are supposed to be boring. Middle-of-the-road, halfway-to-the-weekend, emotionally beige. But that was before I downloaded a “smart kitchen” app called FridgeFriend+.
By Ashikur Rahman Bipulabout a year ago in Fiction
Corvinia - Iseldir
Continuing my journeys North, I the terrain quickly turned more hilly and rough, though still beautiful. It seemed that all the time one was either travelling up or down but rarely ever straight on. Villages rather than towns seem to dot the surrounding area, always agricultural in nature, though it seemed strange to me that often one found grains and wheat fenced off and yet cattle would roam free, almost it seemed, abandoned. At my first enquiries I was assured that this was not the case. The cattle were marked by the owner so as to be identified and so could not be easily stolen. As for the fenced off areas, it seemed that ownership was taken most seriously among these people, trespass being one of the most rude affronts one man could afford another.
By Tomos Jacksonabout a year ago in Fiction
City of Sapphire Light
Though the train was quite empty, the street outside was bustling. It is almost like seeing my entire town times—I don’t know—a lot, walking the street all at once. But that paled in comparison to the towering buildings that almost get lost in the clouds. Some parts of the city even appear to be on floating islands! Floating islands! It mesmerized me. The streets were alight, not just with the sun, but with glowing blue lines traveling along the building walls and the street edge. “Are those sapphire lines?” I almost yell in excitement as I walk up to closest building. Stretching my arm out I place a finger on one of the blue lines. It sent a gentle buzz of energy through me—they were sapphire lines! Following the line with my eyes, I see it stopping at every light on the walls and street. “It is magic powered!” I exclaim. Realizing how loud my words were, I pull my body into my core shrinking as I dart my eyes around the crowded street. But not many people seem to have noticed—a few turned their eyes, but most just kept on their way. Looking back over at my finger only a fraction of a fraction of any inch away from the sapphire line itself. I can feel the wave and flow of it’s energy. If I just quiet myself I should be able to. . . ‘No Ravly, you came here to attend the academy. You will learn how to do this there.’ I remind myself bringing my back to the task at hand, Locating the Dalten City School of High Magic.
By M. W. Larsenabout a year ago in Fiction
"The Last Ride Out of Marlowe"
The town of Marlowe, Texas, was a place where dust settled on your boots almost immediately, and secrets lingered as persistently as the August heat. Carter Briggs had not returned in seventeen years—not since he left in the dead of night with a duffel bag filled with guilt and his father's old Colt .45. Now, at thirty-six, with weary eyes and a jaw marked by regret, he found himself gazing out the window of a Greyhound bus as the Marlowe city limits sign passed by
By Md.Nayeemul Islam Khanabout a year ago in Fiction
The Shimmering Mirage: Utopia as a Dream within a Dream
The heart of a man, always yearning for hopes and their fulfillment, has always cherished dreams of a utopia for a long time. Painted with flawless governance, boundless prosperity and harmonious existence, these utopias are the epitome of human existence all a utopian realm, a beacon of hope and but an unspoken fear that serve as a critique of a fragmented reality. Yet, the more we examine these shining ideals, the more they begin to seem like a dream – a beautiful, complex creation of a mind. And perhaps, even more than that Elusively, the notion of a universally perfect world is a dream within that initial dream, a layer of abstraction that takes us further away from its tangible realization.
By umar khalidabout a year ago in Fiction
"The Last Slice"
It was a warm Friday evening in the small town of Elmwood, Ohio. Streetlights flickered on as families headed home from high school football games and the scent of fresh dough wafted through Main Street from Tony's Pizza, the town’s oldest and most beloved restaurant.
By Md.Nayeemul Islam Khanabout a year ago in Fiction
