Fantasy
The Butterfly’s Veil
The Butterfly’s Secret In the quaint town of Velmorin, nestled in a valley of endless wildflowers, there stood a small fabric store named Luna's Atelier. Its owner, Aveline Miran, was as enigmatic as she was beautiful. Her fabrics were unlike anything anyone had ever seen—vivid hues of sapphire, emerald, and amethyst that seemed to shimmer with a life of their own.
By Mary Emmanuel2 years ago in Fiction
Rescue
Car horns honked up and down the busy road, making the horse swish his creamy tail and jerk his head back. Silken nostrils flared, a mistake given the stink of exhaust fumes that hung in the air. Pearly flanks shuddered, and hooves clattered on the tarmac; an irregular clitter clatter that spoke of his affront at the noise. The woman soothed him, leaning forward to whisper encouragement and rest a hand on his shoulder. She guided him through the traffic with confidence, and urged him closer to the tall green gate on the side of the road. Towers loomed beyond it, belching smoke. She held him steady, and leaned down to press the buzzer. There was a crackle, and an indistinct voice spoke. Her lips, plump and pale, shaped each word with ladylike deliberateness, and then the gate swung slowly open and she nudged him through. The visitors' carpark was quiet at this time of day. Without the blare of horns skewering his precarious confidence from all sides, the tension eased out of his body. His feet settled into a steady clip clop clip clop across the open space and down the left side of the building. The person she had come to find was working here, stacking boxes on pallets, wrapping then in cellophane, and loading then into lorries. His face creased in an enormous grin when he saw her. Distress melted away and his eyes shone. "I've come to take you away from all this," she said. Her voice was lifted clear above the cacophony of machinery, shouting, and the nearby hum of traffic. He ran towards her. This attracted the attention of the Boss who seemed to swell with anger. The Boss' face bloomed cerise, and he looked as it steam might come out of his ears. When he opened his mouth to shout, she expected a jet of flame. Her beloved reached her, and scrambled up behind. His hard hat was still wedged on his head because of Regulations. He wound his arms around her waist (most definitely her waist). She touched the horse forward and after several strides, urged him into a canter. They clattered through the staff car park and away, with the Boss still hopping up and down and yelling about Punch Cards and Regulations. At last, his voice dwindled, and the concrete towers shrank into insignificance behind them.
By L.C. Schäfer2 years ago in Fiction
Spell to Summon a Lost Love. Top Story - January 2025.
Setting up the ritual, she holds fear at bay with her bare hands; focused on their movements, she marks the circle. Placing the rose quartz—big as her restless heart, ragged pink-veined facets thirsty for the light of a fattening barley moon—on the centre sigil. Calling her power to set the fires pirouetting in their bowls of sacred oil at the cardinal points, she draws in her breath and almost brings the fear with it—will he be there, as he promised—until she curls her toes into the moss-bound grass and feels the hum of the words as she passes the incantation over her tongue and between her lips. Words she's waited half a lifetime to speak. Words that can finally call his world back to hers.
By Lauren Everdell2 years ago in Fiction
Any Port In a Storm
Link to Chapter One Chapter Two Raj lay curled on one side, cradling his hand. Disbelief paralyzed him as the impossibility of what had happened gradually sunk in. The wound only appeared now as a bite from something non-poisonous, like a checkered keelback snake. He knew he shouldn't feel better; a cobra's bite always kills its victim without medicine. His mind reeled, seemingly poised to explode. He needed answers.
By MatthewKusza2 years ago in Fiction
The Archer. Top Story - January 2025.
His stomach growled. A gentle rain broke on the forest green canopy and dripped down his matching green hood. He found the gentle pitter patter of rain soothing. Jahn had complained it was a terrible day for an ambush, but what did that little man know?
By Matthew J. Fromm2 years ago in Fiction
The Clockmaker’s Secret
In a small, dimly lit workshop nestled in the heart of an old town, lived Elias, a master clockmaker whose creations were famed for their unmatched precision and artistry. His clocks didn’t just measure time; they told stories, whispered secrets, and captured fleeting moments. Yet, none knew that his most extraordinary creation remained hidden—a clock that defied the very nature of time.
By Mirhadi Tahsin2 years ago in Fiction
The Brush of Fate
Chapter-01: The Prologue Ryo’s brush glided over the canvas in jagged, erratic strokes, each line betraying the chaos in his mind. The once-promising artist now struggled to find meaning in his work, and his cramped apartment reflected his disarray—half-finished paintings, crumpled sketches, and empty coffee cups scattered everywhere.
By Little Omer2 years ago in Fiction
Journey of the Flameborn Prince : Chapter Three : The Fall of the Sun King
As Zarek Flameborn and Veznan clashed, their first strike unleashed a cataclysmic shockwave that obliterated the surrounding buildings. Dark energy and sunlight collided, tearing through the plaza and lighting up the night sky.
By Bhavesh Bakotra2 years ago in Fiction
