Short Story
Guardian of the Gate. First Place in Whispering Woods Challenge.
Dappled light danced over the soft forest floor as beams of sun played with the leaves of the trees high above. Beech, oak, and yew stood tall and proud, sentinels of this ancient land. Colours of autumn were in abundance, the forest a tapestry of deep hues. Golds, and browns, and reds, interspersed with the ever present green. Occasional bursts of bright summer colours caught the eye. Purples, pinks, blues, yellows and more. Flora, stubborn of the changing seasons along with pixies, sprites, and a plethora of other low fae flying about. Warmer days would be rare until spring came a-calling once more.
By Morgan Christy Rickards3 years ago in Fiction
In The Dead of Night
“Are we almost there yet?” Gabriella asked sullenly, stuffing another fry from the last service station. She continued on the motorway, heading to Queensferry where the address told us. I looked from the map on my phone to the signs around us. We had decided to make the few hours drive in mid afternoon hoping to miss the traffic but still find a hotel. Yet two toilet breaks and food stop at three services and we were finally reaching the town limits. We didn’t really know too much about the place, other than it was split into a north and south with a couple of huge bridges connecting them. Gabriella had begun tapping her fingers on the wheel and I realised I had only nodded slightly. “Oh, yeah, should be just up here. Maybe another couple of miles. Then we can find our hotel and rest for a night.”
By Dee Jay Kay3 years ago in Fiction
Gingerbread House
In a small cottage on the outskirts of a forest, there lived a family of four. There was the father Hans, the stepmother Honey, and the two children Hansel and Gretel. They lived happily for a while until a great famine struck their homestead. Hans was a craftsman of great caliber and had made numerous wooden trinkets in order to sell to the city in order to procure food in order for the family to survive the winter. Hans promised to return in one week’s time.
By Dee Jay Kay3 years ago in Fiction
The Eye Of Ludum. Top Story - August 2024.
"We shouldn't be here," Elna whispered. Jochen glanced towards her but didn't stop moving forward. Elna's face troubled him more than her words. For an elf, her complexion seemed unusually pale in the torchlight. He knew better than to ignore her words, though. Elna's foresight had saved his skin at least half a dozen times.
By Kenny Penn3 years ago in Fiction
Root and Leaf
The footsteps… the mere act was enough to shatter the ancient peace. A light rain had begun to fall as the night set in. The venerated one with moss covering the boughs was the first to sense the outsider. She sighed, helpless as the one in gleaming metal stalked past. It had a face, that they knew, but it was hidden behind a wall of plate metal, the dying light of day painting the curved surface a spectre of wan half-light. The man did not feel their presence. Warnings were made. None were heard. It had ears, surely it did, yet it did not know the language of root and leaf.
By Morgan Christy Rickards3 years ago in Fiction
Andyne. Content Warning.
Laryians and humans alike shrink back when Commander Andyne rips through the main floor of the castle. The sound of her iron boots hitting the floor, clanking and clattering along with her long, powerful strides, sends the loud, ravenous hall of Freepallian soldiers into silence every time without fail. Queen Sylvia’s first in command, a warrior fiercer than any other, Laryian or human, male or female—Andyne was nearly a queen in her own right, commanding respect with her mere presence alone. Today, certainly, was no exception.
By angela hepworth3 years ago in Fiction
What hope looks like
When the cat started speaking I knew it was the death of me. I wiped my tears as the cat walked and sat beside me, as the moonlit sky adorned in the radiance of the moon. She stared at me and with the beauty of her emerald-green eyes, she whispered," Don't shed tears for the ones who won't even remember about your existence. I wanted to say something but alas the alarm clock rang and I looked in the mirror. It was time for me to let go.
By Hridya Sharma3 years ago in Fiction
Hope in the ashes
As the Eagle soar through the skies, a thick blanket of clouds covered the horrors beneath like a loving mother's hands on her child's eyes. The Eagle gently passed through the clouds , descending into the lower atmosphere. A dark gray color painted the earth below and puffs of smoke choked the air, the Eagle flew over the war zone that was splattered with blood and lifeless bodies. In the distance, The Eagle saw movement like an out-of-place puzzle piece, a pale-skinned boy was running towards something.
By Wallace Barnett3 years ago in Fiction
