Fantasy
Isle Of Dragons. Content Warning.
Arabian Sea Charles was sprinting down the beach without his boots. His shirt was missing and his black pants were shredded from waist to ankle. His stomach, chest, and arms were ravaged with deep slashes and bloody punctures as if he had been attacked by a monstrous serpent with formidable claws. His feet bled from deep cuts caused by running barefoot through the island’s jungle and they were also calloused from third degree burns. Enduring it all, Charles ran for his life until he reached the safety of the ship he and his crew arrived on two weeks ago.
By Kale Sinclair2 years ago in Fiction
Fugue State
I awoke in the middle of a crystal, silent, mirror-like lake. Stillness was all around. None of the tree's moved and none of the grass shook. I floated in the middle of the lake in a small rowboat. The boat was white, but most of the paint was cracking and chipped. As I moved inside the boat, small ripples moved out in waves over the surface of the lake. I yelled out, but I didn't even hear my yell. Just quiet and stillness. No one else seemed to be here. I wasn't sure where here was, but I seemed to be alone. I started to think about my friend. As I did I saw an outline of her in the boat. I started talking to her, but as I stopped thinking about her, her image disappeared. I thought of my sister and there she was in the boat. When I stopped, she stopped being. I tried to yell again. Again no voice was heard. There were two oars with the boat. I grab the oars and start to row. I row and row. I seemed to go right through the vegetation, but without disruption. The plants didn't move, the boat never stopped. I put my hand in the water. I felt no essence of wetness. I felt no idea of temperature. To me, from my perspective, it looked like my hand was underwater. The appearance was the only recognizable reaction. Fear took hold. Do I get out of the boat or stay in the boat. Not knowing where or what this is I decide staying in the boat is safer. I would wait for someone. I wait. AND wait. AND wait. No one comes. No one else seems to be in this area. Every second, every minute is more of the same. The calmness and peacefulness was becoming maddening. It was too calm, too peaceful, too still. All too visual, but lacking of life. My voice seemed trapped in the vacuum of my vocal cords and the environment of this place. I had no idea how much time was going by or had already passed. It was endless calm and stillness. Without anything else to do I just rowed the boat. Fear kept me tethered inside. I remained like this in the stillness, becoming a fixture to this place. Then a welcomed change occurred. One of the oars got stuck. I couldn't tell why. There were no rocks or weeds that seemed to be tangling it. I couldn't get the one oar to move. The welcomed change became another maddening dilemma. I got up and began pulling at the oar handle. Pulling with everything inside me. I kicked it and cursed, knowing no one could hear me anyways. I pulled and tugged. Finally pulling so fiercely I knocked myself right off the boat when the oar came loose. There was no splash. I fell and fell and fell. Colors whirled by my ears in my peripherals. I think I saw a duck. There was nothing but motion all around me now. Endless motion and flying zipping colors. As I started to feel dizzy and sick, I stopped. Or the zipping colors stopped. I was alone in stillness and darkness. This time nothing but black around me. Except, for a pin size white dot of light. Without being able to explain why, I had the urge to grab at the white dot and pull. I began ripping at the white dot or possibly the black border of the white dot. Soon I was pulling the white around, until it was a fog in the room. As I pulled harder at the original source of the white, the dot, all of a sudden there was a pulse of brightness. A blinding brightness that eliminated everything else. Vision was now gone to the excess of whiteness or light. I heard familiar voices speaking to me.
By simplicity2 years ago in Fiction
TALES OF CRIME AND FICTION.
"It is Detective Allison from the Detective Agency of London and with me is my partner, we are here to ask some questions" This was the fifth time I had said that line. We left Jones' house and went to Stephan's: He lived alone with his married sister, their parents had been dead for five years, and she told us that Stephan had in-depth knowledge about making medicines from venom. She also told us that he had a job interview in Washington and he mentioned that it was a medicine-making industry but she also said that the name and further details about the industry were unmentioned by her brother. She also stated that her brother was blind, not by birth but by an accident that happened in which their parents died. Matt insisted on having a look in Stephan's room and found the same email, from the same person. Not only that, he also found a carbon copy in the email, the names mentioned there were four. Three we identified as the names of our victims, the other fourth name was not known to either of us.
By Shazia Khan2 years ago in Fiction
