Adventure
The Adventures of Niall Cadfael MacLir
You do not recognise me, I see this, as you fumble about in confusion, grasping for some way of determining how I know these things”, the man said, a shadow of a smile curling about his lips. “I know I have been gone these ten years, but even my wife does not think my appearance has changed that much”>
By Jeremy Cavenagh5 years ago in Fiction
The Adentures of Niall Cadfael MacLir
The day was moderately warm, if you lived in Hell, the sun had burned off every imaginable trace of moisture, and any residue had been atomized leaving the day hot and dry, and everybody had sought the shade long since, well, almost everybody. A man walked into the town that day, the sun seeming to settle and light his hat like an otherworldly flame, even his shadow seemed to flit, ghostlike beside him, and those who saw him were not altogether certain whether he was real, or merely an apparition of the heat. The man stood about six feet tall, with deep brown hair cascading over his shoulders that danced in the breeze created by his passage. Looking at his mane you could not be certain whether it was truly long, or just looked that way. His coat long and dusty, looked like it had seen battle, or had been washed in a river of dust, perhaps both, it flowed long and barely did his boots show from beneath it. His trusted boots, battered and worn, and with many a mile wearing the soles.
By Jeremy Cavenagh5 years ago in Fiction
The Audubon Lake Diaries
I hate small towns. You can see the same person every time you walk out of your door. How am I supposed to find interesting stories to explore when that same person I saw at the grocery store is the clerk at the library? They know the same things! I cannot get a different perspective or make a new friend.
By LATANYA N CHATFIELD5 years ago in Fiction
A New Friend
Jess woke early that Saturday morning and tip-toed to the kitchen. She found the large red bandana, and lay it out. Careful not to disturb her parent's sleeping in the other room, she moved about the small kitchen picking out cookies, crackers, a couple of apples and then pieced together a bologna and cheese sandwich. She wrapped it in a paper towel, and placed it on top. Picking up the opposite corners of the handkerchief tying them in square a knot like her daddy taught her, being sure to tie the last one around the first to keep her goodies secure.
By Bobi Larson5 years ago in Fiction
Continuation of "The Power of Painting in Year 3000"
After experiencing a handful of turbulent months and a short period of grounding, it was time to move onto the next step. Answering the call to heroic adventure is not an easy feat, I guess it’s just as they say: it gets uncomfortable before real growth happens. It's quite ironic though, no matter how much hell Ako put me through I just couldn't help but love him. I made sure to wake up early today and soak in as much sun as possible. Meditated. Spent 30 minutes doing Yoga because I honestly don’t know what is ahead of me. I wrote a farewell letter to my lover in case I don’t ever make it back. Not that I would want to leave her, but sometimes we need to drop what is important to us for the greater good of humanity. *BZZZ BZZZ BZZZ* Ahh.. There’s the usual incessant buzzing of my phone.
By Patrick Oleson5 years ago in Fiction
Chickens
Serena looked in the old red barn and saw a large chicken coop filled with a few hundred harmless-looking chickens. But Serena knew better. She sniffed. The barn smelled of chicken poo and rancid fat. There a dozen chick heads sticking out of the straw on the floor under the chicken killing stand. If this old barn was the last clue in the $1 Million prize scavenger hunt, those chickens were modified in some ridiculous fashion.
By Toni Crowe5 years ago in Fiction
Hamilton
On one ordinary midsummer night, something happened that would relentlessly haunt me for the rest of my life. I awoke with a start at the shrill sound of a single scream piercing the night air. I quickly rose from my bed and looked out my open bedroom window. The county road was barely illuminated by two lights: the front porch light of our house and Hamilton’s flashlight.
By Nicholas Kleinhenz5 years ago in Fiction
Legend from Mouseville
The summer heat was dying like the leaves on the trees. Gusts of wind whisk the fields of hay. Not so long ago, fresh bales roll across the scape of the horizon. A lull glow shined through the shadows on the field's edge. As the sun-kissed, the sky ever so gently in its morning rise.
By Opal A Roszell5 years ago in Fiction
