fantasy
Celebrating the fantastical. Let your imagination run wild.
Write Your Chances
Anna took the small notebook off the park bench. “Someone must have forgotten it", is what she thought. She examined it for a bit, hoping to find a clue of who the owner was. However, the notebook’s clean, black leather surface didn't bear any marks. There was an elastic closure on the front and a ribbon bookmark tied to the spine. Flipping through the pages, she expected to find something written, however, it was completely empty.
By Cydney McMillon6 years ago in Futurism
The sword is Mightier.
New York, after midnight. Life was terrible, hard and suffering from lack of purpose and no life goals, thought young Peter. He wished he had money right now. But no, he has to work four part-time jobs to support himself, his sister and his ill mother. He can’t just escape, his mother needs him.
By Peter Hurny6 years ago in Futurism
Newtons Lost Notebook
A few year ago my father died from self inflicted emotional wounds after years of suffering. I was too grief stricken at the time to look through his possessions. Until recently I had believed the Cronin’s were just ordinary people from Ireland, but perhaps there are no ordinary people. Sure he had told me stories of his father who had been a boxer in the Bronx who raised money for the Irish Republican Army during the 30s. But this was as much as I knew about the Cronin family other than my sweet and goofy aunts and uncles. But reading through his possessions I noticed a black notebook which I assumed was a forgery — it was signed Is. Newton. I found a original hand written signature of Newton’s signature, and to my astonishment, it was an exact match of the signature found in the black notebook my father hand handed down to me without any description. It was placed in the same box with his fathers and my grandfathers other possessions — a loafers hat and an Irish bobby stick for bashing in heads as my dad used to say. After digging through some genealogical records, I found that the Newtons married into the Cronin’s just before the potato famine started. Both Cronin’s and Newtons continue to have a strong presence in Ireland. These notebooks may hint at how the Newtons gained such a presence in Ireland.
By Tara Cronin6 years ago in Futurism
Knights
I marched down the halls without the worry of my footing. How did I ever get myself in such a preposterous- Okay, nobody talks like that. At least not where I'm from. Here, in this crumbling school, they do. It's like they're stuck in the 1800s! Every girl- including me- is wearing dresses that only our great grandmothers would have worn, and yes all of us are wearing corsets. I don't understand how people did this! They're so uncomfortable. I don't know why anyone would ever make these! Anyway, enough complaining. Hi, I'm Evalynn, and as you could probably guess, I'm not from here. I'm from a whole other realm. How did I get here, you may ask. Well, wonder no more…
By Sastina Brandt6 years ago in Futurism
Newtons Lost Notebook
A few year ago my father died from self inflicted emotional wounds after years of suffering. I was too grief stricken at the time to look through his possessions. Until recently I had believed the Cronin’s were just ordinary people from Ireland, but perhaps there are no ordinary people. Sure he had told me stories of his father who had been a boxer in the Bronx who raised money for the Irish Republican Army during the 30s. But this was as much as I knew about the Cronin family other than my sweet and goofy aunts and uncles. But reading through his possessions I noticed a black notebook which I assumed was a forgery — it was signed Is. Newton. I found a original hand written signature of Newton’s signature, and to my astonishment, it was an exact match of the signature found in the black notebook my father hand handed down to me without any description. It was placed in the same box with his fathers and my grandfathers other possessions — a loafers hat and an Irish bobby stick for bashing in heads as my dad used to say. After digging through some genealogical records, I found that the Newtons married into the Cronin’s just before the potato famine started. Both Cronin’s and Newtons continue to have a strong presence in Ireland. These notebooks may hint at how the Newtons gained such a presence in Ireland.
By Tara Cronin6 years ago in Futurism
Little Black Book
I was ten and in the fifth grade. School was boring, so I spent a lot of time reading books that I found around the house. My mother was an avid reader, and we had books everywhere and on all kinds of subjects. One afternoon when left on my own, I snuck into my mom's bedroom. Sometimes I would discover things that I was not supposed to find.
By Diana L Duda6 years ago in Futurism
That Old Black Magick
I was fascinated with the new arrival to our village. In part, because we rarely have new arrivals. I can almost remember moving here with my dad, but not quite. I was only four. I remember before being a bigger, cleaner, happier place, but I also knew that mom had done something bad, and that she had an accident because of it. We had to leave under the cover of night before anyone found out.
By Tim Pierpont6 years ago in Futurism
Weeping of the Sea
Too many steps, too many bricks upon this road I have passed in my tiresome journey to the edge of the world as I know it. I have known hunger some days, thirst others, yet I continue to beat this worn and weary path that thousands have taken before me. In my more lax moments I wonder why any of them did. Then I snap out of the delusion that other people actually matter.
By Skye Tandy6 years ago in Futurism
Grandfather
Standing in front of the mirror, a wan candle his only illumination, he didn't know what he was doing, that much was obvious. He was doing what the internet and pop culture said you did in these situations. What kind of childish idiot did she take him for, anyway? His face set in grim lines as he thought of his mother.
By G. Dean Manuel6 years ago in Futurism
The Boy Who Saw a Rainbow
Almost everyone in the world didn’t see color. Until Zahaa. Zahaa was not like everyone else. He saw color in everything while everyone else only saw things and economic value. No one else saw the leaves changes from viridian to a middle-green-yellow to autumn xanthic to dark-carrot-orange to rufous and then a burnt brown.
By Talia Basma6 years ago in Futurism
