Short Story
The Knight, the Princess, and the Dragon
Princess Marlan was angry. She was angry at so many things lately. Her guards for never letting her do anything on her own. Her mother for berating her, trying to make her a "proper princess that the public would love" whatever the hell that meant. The scores of suitors that took one look at her and decided they wanted her either for her body or her family's money only, and she was furious at her father. Her father, King Killios was a good king on paper and in practise, she had to admit. He was charismatic, loved his people, and strove to better the kingdom as a whole, and spent many years of his life doing so. The downside to this was he tended to either neglect Marlan, or treat her as solely a tool to be used to further his own agendas. She sat on her bed as her father droned on and on about her duties- about how she had to try and give at least one of these suitors a chance. "Marlan, this is getting to be absolutely ridiculous! Fifteen suitors and you couldn't even try continuing a courtship with one of them! What am I, some stinking beggar on the street who won't be given the time of day?" Marlan rolled her eyes as she looked out the castle window. She loved her family, but there were days where she simply wanted to be elsewhere. A place she could be respected for herself first and foremost. It seemed like that was just a fairy tale that could never be though, she thought sadly, as she listened to the courtship arrangements her mother and father came up with.
By Noah Feanny6 days ago in Fiction
The Woman in the Attic
Chapter One: The House on Blackthorn Hill The first time Emily heard the woman crying, she thought it was the wind. It was late October, and rain had been falling for three days. The old house on Blackthorn Hill stood surrounded by bare trees, its windows dark and its wooden walls creaking whenever the wind grew stronger.
By Silvia Felaco6 days ago in Fiction
I am Me; I am the Peacock
I Am Me I can be a chameleon. My unwed mother was raised by a strict Methodist preacher. To her credit, she chose me over her parents. Sadly, she was too young and couldn’t handle solo parenting (my father was never in the picture), so I was bounced around from one family member to another.
By Liz Montano7 days ago in Fiction
Dr Pepper Zero and Wet Grass
I stepped from the cold comfort of our home, as the central heating had been switched off; the bite of autumn soon to be winter could be felt in the air. Even seconds before when I stood on the inside of the door, bracing myself, I gasped and saw my breath drift from my mouth towards the mosaic windows. Now, settling out from the natural darkness of a home when everything is powered down, I entered the embrace of a more intense drop in temperature and luminance. My fingers ached as the atmosphere feasted on the bare skin, as the light, fine rain coated the shiny surface of my bald head. I could unlock the door, of course, and retrace my steps to the bedroom and pick up my padded waterproof gloves. But, a very deep fear gripped me, held me tight, and I knew in this state of flux I found myself in, there was no going back or I would simply never leave. So I lifted the handle and double locked, listening to the metallic mechanisms and springs clunk.
By Paul Stewart7 days ago in Fiction
