Fantasy
Eldergrove's Forbidden Spellbook
Surrounded by the wilderness of Eldergrove, a tale of curses and hexes was poised to unfurl. An ancient, leather-bound tome lay concealed amongst sacred roots, inscribed with runes of unfathomable intricacy. Within its pages harbored the sinister secrets of Malachi, a sorcerer gripped by the lust for power, weaving dark enchantments, each more treacherous than the last. The tomes of his nefarious spells remained locked away, and it was said to be guarded by a sentinel so fearsome that even the most fearless souls dared not breach the borders of Eldergrove.
By Sidra Anjum3 years ago in Fiction
The Winged Man
He was born with a pair of wings, but he never had the feeling of being free. He was always hiding, unable to stop running, as many men from his village and other villages across the land were hunting for him. He always knew that he was different from any of the people amongst the vast land, and he could see that these people in villages near and far feared him. To them he was an immortal monster, the freak show created in a laboratory, just a total abomination to mankind. Scientist offering a prodigious reward for whomever captures him. They wanted to study him, to dissect him, to create more of his kind.
By Malikai Ferarri3 years ago in Fiction
Animal Conversations
As the sun rises, I wake to a symphony of voices outside my window—whispers of secrets and tales of mischief. Assuming it's a group of people, I look out to find a gathering of birds, engaged in what seems like a full-blown conversation. Panic sets in; I must be dreaming. This unusual start throws off my morning routine.
By Punderful Alexander3 years ago in Fiction
Beneath the Killers of the Flower Moon
Beneath the Killers of the Flower Moon In the heart of the American Southwest, where the land stretched out like a canvas of reds and browns, there was a small, forgotten town named Willowbrook. Time had been unkind to this place, leaving it in the shadows of progress and modernity. But beneath its dusty streets lay a secret as old as the desert itself—the legend of the "Killers of the Flower Moon."
By huraira ejaz3 years ago in Fiction
The Stench of Mushrooms
The long hall channeled the smell of frying mushrooms directly toward me when I stepped off the elevators. I was reminded of my hate of mushrooms. Even the smell turned my stomach, much less the eating. Trying to ignore the smell emanating from the end of the hall, I checked the numbers on the doors, looking for the number fifty-five. It was the door at the end of the hall where the vile mushroom aroma wafted.
By Kenneth Lawson3 years ago in Fiction
