Short Story
Island. Content Warning.
They bought an island, it was a bargain, north of Orkney with its own Stone Circle, absolutely beautiful isolation. Pwere was from wave-power and wind turbine and solar panels and there was an orchard and garden, but food and supplies would be boated in when required. They hired a boat to take them to and from the island from Orkney, but apart from the sales brochure there was nothing about the island's history or the ancient stones, buildings and ruins on the island.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 2 years ago in Fiction
Predator: Killer of Killers
The Relentless Hunter Evolved: Exploring the Predator Franchise The Predator franchise, a cornerstone of action and science fiction cinema, has captivated audiences for nearly four decades with its relentless alien hunter and thrilling confrontations. From its jungle origins to its recent forays into new territories and timelines, the evolution of the Predator saga is a testament to its enduring appeal and adaptability.
By Sikandar prasad2 years ago in Fiction
The Seven-Year Voyage
Darius reached down, and rattled the shackles around his ankle. Bolted tight. He looked around. He knew he was in the hold of a ship, but it was so dark he could barely make out the shape of the other bodies around him. His head ached, and Darius reached up to touch a bump forming on his right temple. That must have been where they struck him.
By Paul Plett2 years ago in Fiction
The Secret of the Whispering Library
Ellie loved the library. Ellie sneaked quietly into the quiet halls of the **Grindlewood Town Library** after school, when the majority of kids ran to the playground. It wasn’t flashy or modern—it smelled like old paper and rain, and the floorboards creaked if you stepped in just the wrong spots. But Ellie didn’t mind. She preferred it that way. She appreciated the peace. She could hear the whispers despite the silence. At first, she thought it was just the wind through the windows or the rustle of pages turning. But then she started to notice something odd—*the whispers always came from the same section**: the tall, shadowy shelf in the back corner with a small brass sign that said: **"For the Interested" ** One rainy afternoon, Ellie waited until the librarian, Mr. Gallow was stamping return slips at the time. She tiptoed over to the “For the Curious” shelf, her heart thudding with a strange mix of fear and excitement. A whisper came from somewhere among the books as she stood in front of the enormous shelf: **“She is here…”** Ellie gasped and looked around—but no one was there. Another voice, gentler this time: ** "The attentive one. The person who listens. ** She reached out, slowly, and her hand landed on a worn green book with no title. The moment her fingers touched it, the whispering stopped—and the book **shivered** beneath her hand. It was opened by Ellie. A "glorious handwritten message" instead of printed words was contained within: > **"You are the Reader if you can hear us. Turn the book to find the door. More books are in the library than you think. ** A sketch of the shelf she was standing on was at the bottom, with an **arrow pointing to the bookcase's back. ** --- Ellie's eyes grew wider. She slipped behind the tall shelf and saw what the message meant. A **tiny brass keyhole**, almost hidden behind the paneling. Something slipped out of the spine when she turned the green book she was holding. A key. She inserted it as her heart was pounding and heard a soft click. The shelf trembled, creaked, and then slowly swung open, revealing a staircase spiraling down beneath the floor. She hesitated only a moment, then descended. --- A glowing, circular room with floating books lined the staircase. Hundreds of them, flapping like birds, drifting on invisible currents. In the center stood a stone pedestal. As Ellie approached, a book floated toward her and opened by itself. It said: > ** "Hello, Ellie! The Whispering Library is now open to you. ** A tiny blue floating book with silver corners crept up to her ear and whispered, **"We've been anticipating you." ** --- She learned that this secret library was **alive. ** The books were not only filled with magic—they *were* magic. Each one held the memories of readers long past, their stories and adventures, hopes and fears. Some books laughed. Some cried. Some told stories in riddles. Others showed movies suspended in the air, sort of like tiny glowing theaters. But only someone who could *truly listen* could find them. Only a Reader. --- Every day after school, Ellie returned to the hidden library. She read books that taught her how to speak with shadows, how to fold a dream into paper, and even how to bake cookies that sang lullabies. But one day, the books whispered something new. **"Something is off." “The magic is fading…” "The door is sliding shut." ** Ellie rushed to the pedestal, where a substantial golden book was waiting. A riddle was revealed when it opened: > “To keep the Library’s magic alive, A Reader must give, not only receive. A tale of truth from heart and soul— We will become whole by sharing a story. Ellie sat down in the circle of floating books, took out her notebook, and began to write. Not a made-up adventure or fantasy. She wrote her tale. At the time she felt invisible at school. On the day her best friend moved away. Of how books had become her most secure environment. And how, for the first time in her life, she felt heard—by the pages, by the whispers, by the magic. The golden book snapped shut as she said her last word, releasing a flash of light into the room. The books began to hum, at first softly but eventually joyfully and loudly. Warm, golden light shone through the walls. She had given them something real. --- The untitled green book vanished from the upstairs shelf the following day. So was the keyhole. The shady entrance had vanished. Ellie tried not to feel sad. She knew that the library was still there—somewhere beneath the floor, still whispering, still remembering. And maybe, one day, it would open again for another quiet soul who knew how to listen. She wrote stories from the heart in her notebook up until that point. And every time she stepped into the regular part of the library, she could still hear the faintest whisper on the shelves: ** "I'm grateful, Reader." **
By Little Dream Stories2 years ago in Fiction
Tommy and the Treasure Map in the Teacup
Tommy liked rainy mornings. Not because he couldn't play outside, but because warm kitchens, funny breakfast stories from Grandma, and always... tea meant rainy mornings. One such morning, the rain gently tapped on the windows in the manner of a lullaby. Tommy shuffled into the kitchen in his monster slippers and found Grandma already humming by the kettle. “Morning, love,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. Do you want a cup of magic? Tommy guffawed. Grandma always said her tea was magical, but today her voice sounded extra mysterious. He sat at the table, and she placed an old teacup before him. In the light of the kitchen, it shone with tiny blue stars and golden vines. Grandma poured the tea. Something amazing took place as the steam rose. **Shapes began to appear inside the cup. ** Lines. Dots. An “X.” Tommy blinked. “Is that… a map?” “Looks like you got the special brew,” Grandma whispered, leaning close. “That, my dear, is the Map in the Teacup.” --- Tommy leaned over the cup. The steam seemed to whisper directions, and the map floated on the surface of the tea without sinking. A trail of sugar cubes, a teapot-shaped island, and a red "X" marked just beneath a stovetop-like object were all displayed. The saucer's teaspoon suddenly "wiggled." Tommy's eyes grew wider. “Did that just—?” The spoon coughed politely. “Ahem. The name’s Stirling. a resource for all magical kitchen quests. And the Stovetop Secret has just been revealed to you, young gentleman. Tommy regarded. “I’m talking to a spoon.” Stirling sighed. “Yes, yes. Always takes place. But listen closely—this kitchen holds ancient secrets. Additionally, if you adhere to the map, you might just locate the treasure." Tommy looked around the kitchen. Everything seemed normal. Until… he spotted it. One tile beneath the stove was glowing faintly blue. --- Tommy walked slowly to the stove while carrying Stirling the Spoon like a knight's sword in his pocket. He pressed the tile. **Click. ** A hidden panel opened with a puff of cinnamon-scented steam. A "tiny spiral staircase" that is just big enough for a boy and a brave spoon can be found inside. “Down we go!” Stirling declared. Under the kitchen, Tommy found himself in a warm, glowing world after climbing down. **The Kitchen Below. ** It looked like Grandma’s kitchen—only enchanted. Like lanterns, floating sugar cubes illuminated the air. Tea kettles performed a midair dance. A grumpy muffin snoozed on a cutting board, snoring softly. Between stacks of singing saucers and honey rivers, Tommy followed the map. Along the way, he met: - **Marzipan the Marshmallow Golem**, who needed help untangling spaghetti noodles from his shoelaces. - **Lady Whisk**, a whisk with a crown, challenged Tommy to a riddle contest before letting him cross the Butterscotch Bridge. - And a **wall of talking toast**, who gave clues in buttery whispers. --- Finally, Tommy reached the **Boiling Room**, the spot marked with the red “X.” In the center stood a teapot as tall as a tree, perched on a sugar crystal pedestal. The teapot was humming softly, its spout glowing. “That’s the Teapot of Truth,” said Stirling, eyes shining. “It’s the heart of the kitchen’s magic.” Tommy climbed the sugar steps and gently lifted the lid. Inside was a glowing scroll. He carefully unrolled it. It wasn’t gold. It wasn’t jewels. It was a recipe. **The Right Kind of Tea ** --- "Wait... is that the treasure?" Tommy asked, confused. Stirling laughed. "Lad, not just any recipe. This one brings joy to anyone who drinks it. It makes them remember their favorite memory. Love warms the heart with a single sip." Tommy focused on it. “Then… I want Grandma to have it.” They climbed back up through the spiral staircase and into the kitchen just as the kettle began to whistle. Grandma received the scroll from Tommy. She blinked, then read it with misty eyes. “Well now,” she whispered. "I haven't seen this since you were my age..." She brewed the tea, added a sprinkle of cinnamon dust from the scroll, and poured it into her starry blue teacup. She sipped. And smiled. Tommy saw something dance across her face—a memory, maybe, of a younger version of herself, spinning through a sunny field with her grandma. She wiped her eyes and declared, "That was the sweetest cup of tea I've ever had." --- The teacup remained on a special shelf until that day, only being used to cheer someone up on rainy mornings. And Tommy? He became the Kitchen Below's official Keeper. He went on many more adventures with Stirling the Spoon by his side, each beginning with a teacup of magic and steam.
By Little Dream Stories2 years ago in Fiction
Don't Shoot the Messenger. Honorable Mention in 500 Word Shockwave Challenge.
I grabbed my bag, laptop, papers and a granola bar, and flew out the door. I waved to my neighbour but lowered my hand when I saw her stern look as she sharply yanked her son next to her by his hood.
By Cristal S.2 years ago in Fiction
