Short Story
Echoes of Eternity - Part 2
A World Beyond The enchantment of the masquerade wrapped Alaric in a cocoon of wonder, where time seemed to stand still. As he danced with the mysterious woman, he felt as though he were waltzing through the corridors of destiny itself. The music swirled around them, a symphony that echoed the rhythms of their intertwined lives.
By inspirational poems 3 years ago in Fiction
MYSTERY BOX
I was in my room, listening to some Taylor Swift music about heartbreak with my headphones on, lost in the melodies of the song. The volume was just right allowing me to enjoy my favorite song while being aware of any sounds around me. Living alone had its perks, but it could also make me a bit jumpy at times.
By ANGELICA. A3 years ago in Fiction
Jail-Break Rapunzel
His sword was the first thing I noticed when he arrived. People might assume I mean that euphemistically, considering the kind of relationship we're rumored to have had, and how he was - at that moment - covertly climbing through my bedroom window. Can't say I didn't sneak a look at both. But when you've been living in a cushily padded room your whole life, with hair so long that everyone else uses it as their mode of transportation, or at least if you're me, you've been searching for escape from every angle. Day in and day out, to no avail. That witch who calls herself my mother is awwwfully careful about not leaving sharp objects unattended. So then all of a sudden, unless that scabbard's just for decoration (and it very well could be, considered how fancily dressed the dunce is) this pointy stick at his waist just might be my ticket out of here.
By Ellen Stedfeld3 years ago in Fiction
Crystal of Radiance
In a village nestled at the base of the Lumina Mountains, a legend was whispered from one generation to the next. It spoke of a Crystal of Radiance, hidden deep within the heart of the mountains, said to possess the power to bring light to the darkest of times.
By Jenny Huynh3 years ago in Fiction
Dreamscapes and Paintings
In the quaint town of Serendell, there lived a young artist named Ava. With her vivid imagination and skillful hands, she brought canvases to life, painting scenes that seemed to capture the very essence of dreams. One fateful afternoon, as Ava dozed off in her sunlit studio, she experienced a dream unlike any other.
By Jenny Huynh3 years ago in Fiction
Hansel and Gretel
They called it Angel’s Lattice when the webs grew on one’s face. The plague was worse in rain, worse still in sunlight, forever eager to gnaw on the flesh. It danced from hand to hand, lover’s kiss to dying breath, and once settled could not be excised. Invisible it was, yet lethal as a honed blade. The first signs were pallor, weakness, a rustling in the veins. Then came fever and gray-tinted eyes, and finally, the lace. Across the body the murky patterns would sweep. Thin like spider’s legs and elegant, too. They trembled along with the victim, sprouting against no will but their own, to remain etched until death, merciful, interfered. Thus was how it began, and as long as Gretel’s eyes remained open, thus was how it would end.
By Bridget Couture3 years ago in Fiction
Retiring to Neverland
All men grow old, but some are lucky enough to grow young again. Those were the men that Wendy liked to visit most. The men who had spent the majority of their adult lives laboring away at one mundane task after another and then, once they were too old to see much more than blurry outlines or to hold their pee for more than twenty minutes, they started to pull innocuous little pranks on the other residents of the nursing home. And Peter was the ringleader among the puckish pensioners.
By Isla Kaye Thistle3 years ago in Fiction
Rumpelstiltskin and The Miller’s Daughter
The King was dead. It was the talk of the whole village. Everyone had their suspicions, but the main suspect was Rumpelstiltskin. He was known for his schemes and tricks, so blaming him was easy. Some people were skeptical and thought the Millers' daughter did it. She had more motive than anyone. Now, this could have been a coincidence, but it just so happened that her father mysteriously died on the same day as the King. The events leading up to the King’s murder were unclear to the public, but the Prince announced that he would not stop until he found Rumpelstiltskin. He reassured everyone his soon to be wife, Hope, had no part in the crime. She was simply a victim. The only problem was the day after their wedding. The people somehow forgot, except me. You miss one royal wedding, and your life is forever changed. These secrets will never leave my lips.
By Stephanie Downard3 years ago in Fiction
The Washing Bucket That Was a Wishing Well
The sun beat down on Elizabeth’s back as she plunged the paddle into the dirty clothes sitting in the wooden washing bucket. With a great heave of her shoulders, she hoisted up the kettle of hot water off the fire and carefully tipped the water into the bucket. Grabbing the paddle, she spun the laundry around, turning it over, before throwing in a few handfuls of grated soap. Her younger brother William sat in the shady shadow of an oak tree, leaning against its trunk. He hummed as he grated more soap for the washing, his bare feet scrunching up the green grass. Sweat dripped from Elizabeth’s brow as steam rose up to her face.
By Rae Fairchild (MRB)3 years ago in Fiction
