Fantasy
Chronicles of Time
In the quiet solitude of his cluttered study, Professor Samuel Thornton hunched over a peculiar device that resembled a fusion of antique clockwork and cutting-edge technology. He had spent years developing the world's first functional time machine, fueled by a relentless curiosity that bordered on obsession. As he adjusted dials and calibrated intricate settings, the air in the room seemed to shimmer with an otherworldly energy.
By Spark to Shine3 years ago in Fiction
Ireland's Salvation
Maewyn returned to Ireland in the dead of night, but few would recognize him as the slave he had once been. He came on a mission, but not one of revenge. His mission was more important than exacting vengeance on the pirates who ripped him from his home as a youth. He would have to put that behind him now if he was to succeed.
By Clever&WTF3 years ago in Fiction
Dystopian Utopia
In the year 2150, the world had transformed into a dazzling, seemingly perfect utopia called Eldoria. Tall, gleaming skyscrapers touched the skies, their reflective surfaces mirroring the prosperity that supposedly dwelled within. Lush greenery sprawled across the landscape, the air was pristine, and technological marvels adorned every corner. Citizens moved with purpose, their faces adorned with contentment, and society seemed to function flawlessly. But beneath the glittering facade of Eldoria lay a dystopian reality, a sinister truth veiled by the illusion of utopia.
By Spark to Shine3 years ago in Fiction
Floral speak
We grow beneath a blazing and just sun, light evenly distributed across our field. Others grow in valleys where moisture pools and ridges throw shade. But we are well-preserved within our utopian garden. Each of us bears a monetary responsibility. We understand our fate.
By Barbara Steinhauser 3 years ago in Fiction
Exploring Ancient Giants
Introduction: Embark on a journey through the annals of time as we unravel the fascinating tales of three colossal creatures that once roamed the Earth and the seas—the Megalodon, Dunkleosteus, and the mythical Kraken. While the Megalodon, a gigantic shark, and Dunkleosteus, an armored fish, were real-life giants, the Kraken remains a creature of myths and legends. In this exploration, we dive into the mysteries surrounding these ancient behemoths, with a focus on simplicity and storytelling.
By Hirantha Ilanperuma3 years ago in Fiction
Clash of Titans
Introduction: Travel back in time to an era when massive sea creatures ruled the waves and a fearsome dinosaur roamed the land. In this hypothetical scenario, we witness thrilling battles between the Megalodon, a colossal shark, the Dunkleosteus, an armored fish, and the iconic Tyrannosaurus Rex, affectionately known as Tyrihanna. Join us as we delve into these epic confrontations, where size, strategy, and adaptability play crucial roles.
By Hirantha Ilanperuma3 years ago in Fiction
Murmurs of Mia' Charmed Story
In the charming town of Eldoria, there carried on with an energetic young lady named Mia. Known for her limitless interest and hesitance to go to the town's conventional school, Mia had a novel gift she could figure out the language of nature. Her interest with the murmurs of the breeze and the privileged insights held by the stirring leaves got her far from the limits of the study hall.
By Aminu Abdulmumin Amfani3 years ago in Fiction
Whispers of Meadowville: A Tale of Enchanted Bonds
In the idyllic town of Meadowville, where meadows met rolling hills and a gentle breeze carried whispers of enchantment, two sisters named Amelia and Grace flourished like wildflowers in the sun. Their days were filled with laughter, shared secrets, and the kind of unspoken understanding that only siblings could possess.
By Syeda Umama3 years ago in Fiction
The Ministry of Mistakes
"Good afternoon, state your mistake, please." I heard nothing. I pulled the bridge of my glasses down so I could see the woman sitting in front of me properly. She was young, 22, 23, or even less. These girls marry younger and younger now. One time, a girl came in here, she was 16, she wanted to cancel her mistake of marrying a 73 year old billionaire. "Ahem, well—" the woman cleared her throat. "I'm listening." "Well, I don't want my husband anymore." I picked a pen and opened the Ledger of Mistakes. I flipped the pages and stopped on a page with the date, November 3, 2080, serial number 23411380. "Your mistake?" "Marrying the wrong man," the woman said. "And how would you like it corrected?" I asked, scribbling. "I want an abolition." I looked at the woman. She wasn't exactly attractive, something between likable and near-infuriatingly plain. She wore a purple turban, black hair, jeweled ears and neck. Her eyes were small, like quarters. "Reason for an abolition?" She looked at me long and then leaned over my cluttered desk. She whispered, "I'm in love with his brother." "What?" "His brother—" she whispered again. "I'm pregnant." She looked at her belly, caressing and smiling at it. I got a glimpse of what looked like a four month old pregnancy poking through her purple satin dress. I dropped my pen, leaned back and sighed. This scene wasn't unusual. It was merely exhausting. I asked, "And where is your husband now?" "He's dead." "Oh.” "His brother—" she said, still whispering. I shrugged. “Yeah?” “He did it.” “He killed your husband?” She nodded. I asked if the police knew this and she nodded. I had been holding my breath so I let it out in little spurts. “So…” “Yes. So now, I want out of my first marriage so I can marry him.” “It's pretty much clear what you want, ma'am,” I said, “But giving the circumstances, I'd need authorization from the police.” “I thought you might say that. Donald said you might say this.” “Donald is your husband's—” “Yeah, my husband's brother.” She opened a small handbag and ruffled inside it. She removed a business card and held it out. “Here. You can call him.” “No, ma'am. Donald—your husband's brother isn't—” I took the card but continued, “Look, ma'am, if what you just told me is true, this Donald should be in jail for murder. I don't need to call him. But the cops should.” “He's a cop.” “What?” “A detective.” The card was white, embossed. The name was written in black ink: Donald Giles, Detective at the top. Then an address for the police precinct in Third Street, Queens was printed on the right. I was familiar with that precinct. I knew a few of the cops there but not this Donald Giles. I turned the card around on its vacant side. There was a phone number and an email. I looked across the desk at the woman. She brushed her blonde permed hair from her square face and smiled at me again. Something about her gray eyes told me I would be dumb to underestimate her. “Did you ask Donald to kill your husband?” She grimaced. “No!” “Ma'am—” “How dare you!” Her lips shook, her face clouded and she gave me a nasty, reproachful look. “I'm sorry. I assumed since you were ready to marry Donald you might have asked him to help out.” “No, I didn't. They had a fight but it had nothing to do with me.” “What was it about?” She said, “I can't tell you.” “It's none of my business, really. But your husband is dead. You said his brother killed him. Now the case is complicated. Do you understand?” “Ronald was a fool.” “Okay.” “He should have listened to me…” she said and looked away. Her lips trembled and I thought she might begin to cry any moment. But when she looked at me again I saw her eyes were as vacant as the walls of my small office. “You see, my husband, he was stubborn. He was ruthless too. He did bad things—” “What kind of bad things?” “I can't tell you.” “Go on.” She gave me a wary look. “Go on? He's dead. What does it matter? I need the abolition to get me off obligation. Can I at least get that?” I started saying something but she cut me off. “I know the law. It says if your husband dies, you don't have to wait the statutory one year before getting married again. Ronald is dead—” “How long?” “Two days.” “Really?” “Yes. Two days. I can't wait to get out there and live my life. It was hell being married to that fool.” “Ma'am?” “What?” “The law says the ministry must have a report from the coroner. We don't have that yet because you've just told me your husband died. I suspect the cops don't know this. Is your husband stuffed somewhere in your basement?” I asked. Her face colored. “How dare you!” “I’m not the one with the dead husband.” “You know what—” she picked herself out of the chair, eyes blazing at me. “I'm going upstairs. I bet there's someone up there willing to do their job!” “Suit yourself, ma'am.” She slammed the door on her way out
By Eseoghene Onovughe3 years ago in Fiction
