fantasy
Celebrating the fantastical. Let your imagination run wild.
Healer's Journey
The iridescent blue glow consumed the room as Ardel’s arms swirled over the near corps that lay on the table, spotting and coughing blood. Her eyes darted to the small leather black book on the stool next to her. Ardel’s whispers heightened as the pages turned to the right incantation for her need. Lira peered around the archway. Her hands burned as blue sparks began to emerge. She clenched her fights, shut her eyes and plopped to the floor. The room's heat intensified as she heard screams from her father. The cottage shook as her mothers’ whispers of incantations grew to a boisterous bellow song. Sweat poured down Lira’s back as she shook. Not now, She thought. I am not ready. This only means one thing. I can not bear it, I don’t . . . I - I want to be normal.
By L.A. Estabrook6 years ago in Futurism
The Telepathic Notebook
It was rare to see anyone else in this part of the forest because I go off the designated trail when galumphing amongst the trees for solitude. Was it a ghost? No, there was a strange woman dressed in an off-white lace dress with long black tresses. She was standing in front of my favorite tree, the “power tree”, as I had nicknamed it, whispering phrases whilst making movements in the air with her fingers. She was hypnotizing and I grabbed my phone from my back pocket to capture this bizarre occurrence. I snapped a photo and an invading, “click” sound came from my phone, dang it! I had forgotten to silence my phone. The sound startled her, and my presence was immediately noticed.
By Margot Matty6 years ago in Futurism
The Creature
A creature slowly opened its eyes. It was waking up from a dream. A soft and warm dream, like the warmth you feel on a good sunny day. Upon waking up, it felt the cold ground. Was it cement? Tiles? It was too dark to see anything. It could only feel the surrounding. There was something on its neck. Heavy and cold. Choking its neck a little bit. There was something heavy on its wrist too. It tried getting up and something made a sound. Metal clanking. It moved around and felt walls. Two to be exact. One on right and other on left. A dim light shined and it saw its reflection on the black wall. It has two red eyes. Two spikes on each shoulder. Two spikes on each side of the stomach. And two pointy, hard tentacle. It had a face of a human and legs of a human. The creature heard a rustling. It turned around. Something was coming close.
By Apurwa Shukla6 years ago in Futurism
It's Never Black and White
It’s been a week since the funeral and we are still cooped up in the house, wondering when things will get better. I finally mustered up the courage to look through his belongings, which were solemnly resting in the corner of our basement in a blue container. As the eldest, I felt like I had to hold back my tears, but really, what was the point. I found a Kobe Bryant shoe box, ironically holding some of our dad’s personal effects. As I opened the box, a painful ringing consumed my brain and I dropped everything in an instant. Although it felt like something was trying to rip my soul out through my brain, the pain lasted only three seconds. I gathered myself, looked down at a picture of the five of us, and reflected on how grateful I was to be a part of this family.
By Gabriel Gonzales6 years ago in Futurism
Only Slightly Twisted
I never dreamt that I'd be seeing the front door of my dream house for the first time, through the scope of a sniper rifle. However, neither would one sanely consider that becoming immortal would be a legitimate career choice thirty-six years ago, but here we are. I took a sip of coffee from the flask resting on my briefcase and lined up my shot to the door. Once prepared I shifted each leg until I was comfortable. I had tucked myself away out of view, on a mound I'd been laying on for the past fifteen minutes. Patiently focused with only the elements for company, I caught my breath in my peripheral vision. One eye poised on the scope, and the other on the regular puff of steam dissipating quickly in the breeze. I should have been freezing, the surrounding snow had carpeted the county the night before, but my body pounded with caffeine-infused adrenaline. For every day of the last two weeks, mine and James' routine had been the same. He would leave his house at quarter past nine, his boyfriend, or husband- No, let's call him, the gold digger, (I don't want to be too generous) would kiss him on the cheek. They'd be classically 'cute', a luxury James never treated me to, and I would vomit into my mouth. Then he'd saunter to the car parked on the drive, with myself watching from the mound I'd grown oddly attached too. It was no different today, although this time I wasn't watching through a pair of binoculars, and there was a fresh, white backdrop of snow. Most would say it was picturesque, but not today. the white calm of winter was a stark contrast against this stale but still bitter lover holding a sniper rifle. My pocket vibrated. I reached in keeping an eye on the cottage whilst pulling the phone to my face. It was a text from my manager, Ms Marrs who I had already missed five calls from. The text read:
By Warrick Arnold-Archer6 years ago in Futurism
