Fantasy
The Peddler-Woman
The peddler-woman sells things that cannot be bought, and everyone knows it. Others in the market sell beautiful things; sweaters and scarves, cutting boards and cooking pots, wine bottles and woven rugs. The crafters sew, carve, weld, sculpt, or brew all they sell, each to perfection. The peddler-woman wordlessly wheels her cart through the snow-dusted square; perched perilously on her shelves are storms and sunshine, long days and late nights, birdsongs and battle cries, quick thoughts and quiet musings. She hides her face behind heavy scarves and low hats of no particular color, but her eyes gleam through even the thickest snowfalls. I should know.
By Emily Cummings3 years ago in Fiction
Celeste and Little One
Celeste watched over the field as the other unicorns grazed beneath the rainbow arch. She could not bear to face them. It was her fiftieth Gathering Under the Rainbow, and she still had not found her rainbow. They would brand her with the colorless rainbow for sure. She would be an outcast, a pariah.
By Stephanie Hoogstad3 years ago in Fiction
Berganashio - Chapter 10
The anointing day feast continued throughout the day. There were lots of games, dancing and soaring around in circles in a fun air parade of sorts. The smallest of the meerbirds played together while the elderly meerbirds watched with pure adoration, reminiscing of memories when they were younger. Keenwai and Kunya had played several games of hide and seek with the children meerbirds. After a while, they grew tired of the silliness of the game and walked toward the thicker forests. Keenwai, kicked up some leaves and asked, “What does adoration even mean to you, Kunya?”
By Rowan Finley 3 years ago in Fiction
The Earring
How can I find the words to describe it? It was infinitely worth millions, an enlightenment in an otherwise ordinary world. It was an escape into fantasy and an abundance of memories derived from the unimaginable realm of another reality, an experience unlike any other. It was thus, my unexpected journey began.
By Cindy Calder3 years ago in Fiction
Seventh Midnight
Chapter 1: The Mysterious Disappearance The moon hung low in the night sky, casting elongated shadows across the cobblestone streets of Crescent Hollow. Detective Emma Blackwood strode through the eerie silence, her trench coat billowing behind her like a cloak of mystery. Her keen eyes scanned the surroundings, searching for any clue that might unravel the enigma of the Seventh Midnight.
By Zeenat Shoukat3 years ago in Fiction
Whispers of the Lost: A Tale of Time and Destiny
A hidden world, secluded from the hustle and bustle of a sprawling cityscape. The shadows cast by towering buildings reached out like fingers upon the pavement below, yet only those who were lost or forgotten knew where to find it. Here existed an enigmatic community - a secret society that housed misplaced objects; all with their own unique stories to tell. Amongst them resided a pocket watch; once revered by an elusive persona known solely as "The Wanderer" but now diminished in glory through time's inevitable corrosion.
By Stacy Goldheart3 years ago in Fiction
"Lost and Found: The Keychain's Journey of Purpose"
I had always prided myself on being a reliable and essential item. A keychain, to be exact. For years, I faithfully held onto a set of keys, diligently ensuring they were always within reach of their owner. But one fateful day, everything changed. It started like any other day. I jingled happily as I swung from side to side, my keys clinking together in perfect harmony. The pocket I resided in was warm and secure. But as my owner boarded a crowded subway train, things took a turn for the worse. In the commotion of the rush hour, I slipped from the pocket, tumbling to the floor unnoticed. The train doors closed, and I found myself abandoned, left behind in the bustling city. Panic coursed through my metal frame. How could I fulfill my purpose without my owner? What would become of me? As the train roared away, I lay there, helpless and alone. People shuffled around me, their hurried steps oblivious to my existence. I watched as life went on without me, feeling invisible and insignificant. But deep down, I knew I had to find a way to make myself useful once again. Days turned into weeks as I traveled from place to place. I rolled along the city streets, witnessing the ebb and flow of daily life. I observed people rushing to work, children playing in parks, and couples strolling hand in hand. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't find a purpose in this new world. Then, one fateful afternoon, a gust of wind sent me rolling into an alleyway. I came to a stop beside a small, tattered notebook. Its pages were filled with scribbles and sketches, a testament to someone's creative endeavors. A spark of hope ignited within me. Perhaps, in this forgotten alley, I had found a kindred spirit. Over time, I developed a bond with the notebook. It became my confidant, my companion. We shared stories, dreams, and secrets. Together, we watched the seasons change, the city transform. Our alliance brought solace to both of our misplaced existences. One day, as I lay beside the notebook, a young artist stumbled upon us. Her eyes widened with excitement as she picked up the notebook and me. She examined the worn pages, her fingers tracing the intricate sketches. A smile spread across her face. "This is it!" she exclaimed. "This is the inspiration I've been searching for!" From that moment on, I became her muse. She carried me with her everywhere she went, attaching me to her backpack. We explored the city together, capturing its essence through her art. She introduced me to a world of creativity and expression, a world where I finally felt at home. With her, I found purpose once again. I became a catalyst for her imagination, a symbol of inspiration. Through her art, she breathed life into the forgotten corners of the city, reminding people of the beauty that lay hidden in plain sight. As time passed, my owner's artwork gained recognition. Her paintings adorned gallery walls, her sketches graced the covers of magazines. And all the while, I remained by her side, witnessing her rise to success. Looking back on my journey, I realized that being misplaced had led me to a destiny I could never have imagined. I had found a new purpose, a new way to bring joy and beauty into the world. And as long as I remained with my owner, I knew that together, we could conquer any challenge, navigate any obstacle, and create a world where misplaced items like me could find their rightful place.
By marko kitchenar3 years ago in Fiction
