Fantasy
Moonharbor
I sit on the cliff that hangs off of Moonharbor counting the stars. My mom is working late again like usual, and my dad passed away when I was young. After he passed I felt separate from the world. Like someone who watches the world instead of being part of it. I spend days wishing someone would sit beside me, watching the stars, just like me and my father used to. I feel the wind brush my cheek, and play with my hair. The salt of the ocean falls on my tongue, as the dark night silences all emotions. I watch the waves hit the rocks, and admire the moonlight reflecting off the water. I feel a heaviness in my chest, like a stone sitting on my ribs making it hard to breath as I sit with the stars as my only company. I notice the moon is lower than usual, that's strange but we are not too different both lonely in the dark of the night.
By Christian Sanchez2 months ago in Fiction
Fires of Adversity
Kathryn, Princess of Thuirene, rose early to enjoy the sunrise in peaceful solitude. As much solitude as a member of the royal family ever got, anyway. She’d have little enough of that in the coming days, that every moment without someone demanding her attention was a gift to be savoured.
By Natasja Rose2 months ago in Fiction
The Brightness
By the time Cara reached her locker, the light had already arrived. It was rising through the floor in a slow, deliberate sheet, a pale brightness that behaved less like illumination and more like weather. Not harsh. Not blinding. Just there, pressing gently upward, filling the hallway from the ground like something patient and inevitable. It softened the edges of everything it touched. Lockers. Shoes. The thin layer of dust that never quite disappeared, no matter how often the cleaners came through.
By Emilie Turner2 months ago in Fiction
The Weight of Blood - Part 1/2
“We know it's one of you.” The nameless guard's voice cut through the stale air of the dark cavern seconds after storming into the underground tavern. He wore a traditional black long coat with dark green zigzag patterns running vertically, as was custom for a Solazor Guard, but with three dark brown lapels on his right shoulder marking him as the Captain.
By Liam Storm2 months ago in Fiction
“The Girl Who Broke Willowford”
It's currently the summer of 1955 my name is James Hale, I live in the small town of Willowford. I work at my local diner, taking the same customers every day, receiving the same meals and life is good. It feels like every week repeats but nobody questions it, that's just how life is in Willowford. There’s a comfort to the routine, a rhythm to the days that never changes. People wave the same way, smile the same way, live the same way. Maybe that’s why I’ve never questioned it — Willowford feels safe, even when it feels strange.
By Christian Sanchez2 months ago in Fiction
Memories of a life before. Content Warning.
There are memories within us that don't belong to the one that we are,and yet they become reflected back at us from within each reflection we see. A different and incomplete version of ourselves looks back into our souls; it shows us the life we could have had if we could just recognise that there are qualities within us that we just can't acknowledge.
By Nadine Haigh2 months ago in Fiction
A Dance at Midnight
By Royal Decree every seventy years to celebrate the aligning of the planets there was to be a grand festival; this festival was free and open to all: young and old, rich and poor, healthy and ill, and people of all races. While the festival itself was only one day, creatures came from all over the Quadrants for the event, so the local shopkeeps displayed their best and most colourful wares and offered special deals for days before. The inns and food vendors offered live music for their patrons and a wide variety of local and foreign foods were cooked, their aromas mixing in the streets. Throughout the city there were private parties for three days leading to the festival and for the next day after.
By Dionearia Red2 months ago in Fiction
The Un-Punxsutawney Protocol. AI-Generated.
The year 2042 was, in many ways, unremarkable. Flying cars were still prototypes, sustainable energy was perpetually "just around the corner," and humanity still hadn't figured out how to make a decent cup of coffee that wasn't sentient. But for the small, snowy town of Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania, February 2nd remained sacred.
By Alicia Lenea2 months ago in Fiction
