Short Story
Isle Of Dragons. Content Warning.
Arabian Sea Charles was sprinting down the beach without his boots. His shirt was missing and his black pants were shredded from waist to ankle. His stomach, chest, and arms were ravaged with deep slashes and bloody punctures as if he had been attacked by a monstrous serpent with formidable claws. His feet bled from deep cuts caused by running barefoot through the island’s jungle and they were also calloused from third degree burns. Enduring it all, Charles ran for his life until he reached the safety of the ship he and his crew arrived on two weeks ago.
By Kale Sinclair2 years ago in Fiction
C.H.U.D
The Humboldt quid is also known as the jumbo squid or jumbo flying squid in English and in Spanish as calamar gigante or jibia or pota. They have a propensity for rapid flashing of the colors red and white when captured and because of this are also known as diablo rojo ('red devil'). It is the largest of the Ommastrephid squids, with some individuals reaching 1.5 m (5 ft) in mantle (body) length and weighing upwards of 50 kg (110 lb). The mantle makes up at least half of the animals mass and includes the fins or wings. The remaining portion is roughly split between the arms and tentacles and the head (including eyes and beak). They possess two tentacles each carrying between 100 and 200 suckers. The suckers are lined with razor sharp teeth or hooks which they use to grasp prey and drag it toward their very large and very sharp beak.
By Everyday Junglist2 years ago in Fiction
Fugue State
I awoke in the middle of a crystal, silent, mirror-like lake. Stillness was all around. None of the tree's moved and none of the grass shook. I floated in the middle of the lake in a small rowboat. The boat was white, but most of the paint was cracking and chipped. As I moved inside the boat, small ripples moved out in waves over the surface of the lake. I yelled out, but I didn't even hear my yell. Just quiet and stillness. No one else seemed to be here. I wasn't sure where here was, but I seemed to be alone. I started to think about my friend. As I did I saw an outline of her in the boat. I started talking to her, but as I stopped thinking about her, her image disappeared. I thought of my sister and there she was in the boat. When I stopped, she stopped being. I tried to yell again. Again no voice was heard. There were two oars with the boat. I grab the oars and start to row. I row and row. I seemed to go right through the vegetation, but without disruption. The plants didn't move, the boat never stopped. I put my hand in the water. I felt no essence of wetness. I felt no idea of temperature. To me, from my perspective, it looked like my hand was underwater. The appearance was the only recognizable reaction. Fear took hold. Do I get out of the boat or stay in the boat. Not knowing where or what this is I decide staying in the boat is safer. I would wait for someone. I wait. AND wait. AND wait. No one comes. No one else seems to be in this area. Every second, every minute is more of the same. The calmness and peacefulness was becoming maddening. It was too calm, too peaceful, too still. All too visual, but lacking of life. My voice seemed trapped in the vacuum of my vocal cords and the environment of this place. I had no idea how much time was going by or had already passed. It was endless calm and stillness. Without anything else to do I just rowed the boat. Fear kept me tethered inside. I remained like this in the stillness, becoming a fixture to this place. Then a welcomed change occurred. One of the oars got stuck. I couldn't tell why. There were no rocks or weeds that seemed to be tangling it. I couldn't get the one oar to move. The welcomed change became another maddening dilemma. I got up and began pulling at the oar handle. Pulling with everything inside me. I kicked it and cursed, knowing no one could hear me anyways. I pulled and tugged. Finally pulling so fiercely I knocked myself right off the boat when the oar came loose. There was no splash. I fell and fell and fell. Colors whirled by my ears in my peripherals. I think I saw a duck. There was nothing but motion all around me now. Endless motion and flying zipping colors. As I started to feel dizzy and sick, I stopped. Or the zipping colors stopped. I was alone in stillness and darkness. This time nothing but black around me. Except, for a pin size white dot of light. Without being able to explain why, I had the urge to grab at the white dot and pull. I began ripping at the white dot or possibly the black border of the white dot. Soon I was pulling the white around, until it was a fog in the room. As I pulled harder at the original source of the white, the dot, all of a sudden there was a pulse of brightness. A blinding brightness that eliminated everything else. Vision was now gone to the excess of whiteness or light. I heard familiar voices speaking to me.
By simplicity2 years ago in Fiction
TALES OF CRIME AND FICTION.
"It is Detective Allison from the Detective Agency of London and with me is my partner, we are here to ask some questions" This was the fifth time I had said that line. We left Jones' house and went to Stephan's: He lived alone with his married sister, their parents had been dead for five years, and she told us that Stephan had in-depth knowledge about making medicines from venom. She also told us that he had a job interview in Washington and he mentioned that it was a medicine-making industry but she also said that the name and further details about the industry were unmentioned by her brother. She also stated that her brother was blind, not by birth but by an accident that happened in which their parents died. Matt insisted on having a look in Stephan's room and found the same email, from the same person. Not only that, he also found a carbon copy in the email, the names mentioned there were four. Three we identified as the names of our victims, the other fourth name was not known to either of us.
By Shazia Khan2 years ago in Fiction
**Title: The Adventures of the Basement**. Content Warning. AI-Generated.
**Title: The Adventures of the Basement** In a quiet house at the end of Maple Street, there was a mysterious basement. It was a place where no one in the family dared to go. The door to the basement was old and creaky, and the stairs leading down were steep and covered in dust. But what no one knew was that the basement wasn’t just a dark and damp place—it was a world of adventure waiting to be discovered. One day, a curious boy named Tommy decided to explore the basement. He was tired of hearing strange noises coming from below and wanted to find out what was really down there. Armed with a flashlight and his favorite baseball bat, just in case, Tommy quietly opened the basement door. As he descended the stairs, the air grew cooler, and the smell of old wood filled his nose. The beam from his flashlight revealed walls lined with cobwebs and shelves filled with boxes of forgotten things. At the bottom of the stairs, Tommy saw something strange—a door that looked like it didn’t belong in the basement. It was a shiny, new door with a silver handle. Curiosity got the better of Tommy. He reached out and turned the handle. The door swung open to reveal a glowing tunnel. Tommy hesitated for a moment, then stepped inside. The tunnel was warm and welcoming, with walls that shimmered in different colors. He walked for what felt like hours, the colors changing around him, until he reached the end of the tunnel. At the end of the tunnel, Tommy found himself in a huge underground world, nothing like the dark basement he had expected. It was a beautiful place with tall trees, rivers of sparkling water, and the bluest sky he had ever seen. There were birds singing and animals playing all around. It was like stepping into a storybook. As Tommy explored, he came across a small village where the houses were made of wood and stone. The villagers were not humans but friendly little creatures that looked like a mix between a rabbit and a bear, with big round eyes and soft fur. They welcomed Tommy warmly and introduced themselves as the Bumbles. The Bumbles explained that their village had been peaceful for many years, but recently, they had been troubled by a giant who lived in the mountains nearby. The giant had been stealing their food and scaring the children. The Bumbles didn’t know what to do and had been living in fear. Tommy, feeling brave, offered to help the Bumbles. He asked them to take him to the giant’s lair. With some hesitation, they agreed, leading Tommy through the forest and up a steep mountain path. After a long climb, they reached the entrance to a large cave. Inside, Tommy could hear the giant snoring loudly. Taking a deep breath, Tommy entered the cave. He found the giant asleep on a pile of treasure, with sacks of food from the Bumble village scattered around. The giant was huge, with messy hair and a beard that reached his knees. But as Tommy looked closer, he realized the giant didn’t look mean—just lonely. Tommy decided to wake the giant and talk to him. He gently tapped the giant’s hand, and the giant slowly opened his eyes. “Who are you?” the giant rumbled in a deep voice. “My name is Tommy,” he said. “I’m here to ask why you’ve been taking food from the Bumbles.” The giant sighed. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I never wanted to scare anyone. I’m just so lonely up here in the mountains. I thought if I had something from the village, it would make me feel less alone.” Tommy thought for a moment. “Why don’t you come down to the village with me? The Bumbles are kind, and I’m sure they’d like to be your friends.” The giant looked surprised. “Do you really think they’d want to be friends with someone like me?” “Of course!” Tommy said. “Everyone needs friends, no matter how big or small.” The giant agreed to come with Tommy. When they reached the village, the Bumbles were scared at first, but Tommy explained that the giant wasn’t bad—just lonely. The Bumbles, being kind-hearted creatures, decided to give the giant a chance. As time passed, the giant became a beloved member of the Bumble village. He helped the Bumbles with heavy tasks and, in return, they taught him how to grow food and build a cozy house. The giant was no longer lonely, and the Bumbles were no longer afraid. Tommy stayed with the Bumbles and the giant for a while, enjoying their company and learning new things. But soon, it was time for him to return home. The Bumbles and the giant thanked him for his help and promised that he would always be welcome in their world. When Tommy finally stepped back through the shiny door and into his basement, it was as if no time had passed at all. The basement looked the same as it always had—dark, dusty, and filled with forgotten things. But Tommy knew better. He knew that behind that door was a world full of adventure, friendship, and magic. From that day on, whenever Tommy heard strange noises coming from the basement, he smiled, knowing that it was just the Bumbles and the giant having fun. And sometimes, late at night, he would sneak down to the basement, open the shiny door, and step into a world where adventure awaited him once again.
By Karl Nicken 2 years ago in Fiction
Is Life Really Just a Walk with Infinite Turns?
Living is like a walk, which boasts innumerable turns; this or that turn will begin a new story. Wondering about what has been done in the past is normal, though things are accomplished in the present, and worrying about the past would not yield anything. Each decision, debacle or not, was made based on the information and the perception that the incumbent at that time had.
By Emily Chan - Life and love sharing2 years ago in Fiction
