Fantasy
Bail Me In
Hello new friend! Welcome to my cobweb. My name is Straighty Hay Man. I am a piece of alfalfa that was turned into hay over 40 years ago, then named by an angel and saved by a gust of wind. I still can't believe I have a name...most hay is simply clumped together for animal feed. Lux is my angel, and it is she who taught me, "I am more than just a cut, dried, and yellowed piece of alfalfa.” She was wide eyed, full of laughter and she always left life in her wake. Her hands plucked me out from a bale, held me tight, then eventually placed me here, in this old barn to be given purpose. That was over 40 years ago now. I’d love to tell you a few stories about Lux and life in this old barn if you’d listen.
By Isaac Haldeman 5 years ago in Fiction
Sweet Summoning
Each line hand drawn with painstaking precision; it had taken hours to complete the entire form. Each line connected to exactly three other lines, The pentagram in the center surrounded by a true circle, and another larger pentagram surrounding everything. The form drawn in two different bloods, and demonic ichor as well. It was the most complex summoning form he had ever attempted. The grating voice of his familiar prattled on about the theory, and the needed perfection for this most puissant summoning of his career, nay his entire existence. He began to apply energy to the spell form within the summoning circle. The red, brown, and green, lines began to glow as his power touched them; one line touching three more lines in an ever-widening crescendo. After three minutes of concentration, sweat began to form on his forehead. By five minutes, he started to become fatigued, hands began to shake. After fifteen minutes, his subvocal chanting naturally rose to audible levels gaining in strength; after twenty, his throat began to burn and his voice grew raspy. At thirty minutes in, his nose began to drip, but his will was iron, and he persevered, maintaining his concentration until the end. Finally, after 45 minutes, as the very last of his innate strength was funneled into the construct. All of the blood lines burnt away, save one lonely spot that somehow was disconnected. One small, tiny detail was missed. For a moment he feared that this one mistake might cause his summoning to fail. His familiar continued berating him now that a flaw was seen. To fail after all this time, effort, and expense was unthinkable. His nose bleed became a steady drip, and pain centered in the front of his skull was nearly enough to cause him to fall. He refused. His will was adamant, and he would die before he would succumb. Pushing through the pain, with one more convulsive effort of will, he screamed the final words of power and emptied his pool of magical energy. It was enough.
By Brian Amonette5 years ago in Fiction
The Barn on the Edge
Barry pulled the car up to the old barn and stopped the engine, exchanging a look with his wife Cynthia. They thought they’d been lucky to find the listing; it was a valuable piece of land at an extremely low price, and they’d only happened across the obscure advert by chance in a local paper on holiday. As the estate agent had indicated on the phone, it was very run down. To be fair, it was a couple of hundred years old – and it looked like it hadn’t been maintained for a long time. Full of holes, but somehow still standing when the rest of the farm was long gone.
By Chris Cunliffe5 years ago in Fiction
To Dellman's Ridge
Erin’s daily rituals were the same. Unending. Unchanging. She had chores to complete, a garden to tend as her brothers ploughed the fields and herded sheep. She had chickens to feed and a cow to milk in the old barn to the west of the farmhouse. Everyday was the same, calm and uneventful. But not today. Today was different.
By Cerys Latham5 years ago in Fiction
King Ransom
My bride flows toward me like jenny gold, her silk dress a shimmering infatuation of silk and electrified wire. I fully expect the child to burst into song at seeing me, the impervious King dressed in full military regalia. I am, after all, raising her in an instant from lowly miller’s daughter to Queen of Hevn, my high mountain valley.
By Barbara Steinhauser 5 years ago in Fiction
The hundred thousand foot tall fairy tale
a long time ago, in a distant land, in a deep part of a dream or perhaps something like a dream, there lived a ten thousand foot tall princess. or maybe she was one hundred thousand feet tall. there is different accounts of the story, but all know of her general sense of humor and demeanor. she had curly, short brown hair. her brown, wavy locks looked like something out of the 1920’s, and it suited her bright blue eyes. she loved in deep, rich manifestations of color and music, but to most, it was overwhelming. the princess, named Kizzie, had light brown skin and was of noble an ancestral claim of the Giant Clan aTigress. They all spoke slowly and surely, and died out over the years, as their kind did not live long and the smaller folk did not take kindly to their existence as a whole. only a few young giants were left, including her, the last of the dying aTigress’s monarchy. her parent’s had died several years ago. she had not yet become Queen. Kizzie did not find a suitable partner to rule with yet(though this was not the only factor as it was her age as she was only sixteen). Giant Kingdoms had their princess and prince’s coronation typically at eighteen.
By Melissa Ingoldsby5 years ago in Fiction
The Dream Farmer
In my young days we had a dozen sky mules, their horns polished bright like new moons. It was my job to spread the sheaves out on the barn floor, then Pa would have the mules trample the dream-grains loose from the chaff. Twenty bushels we'd winnow and grind to a thin dust each day. Then we'd throw it to the wind at dusk, so that the earthfolk could dream.
By Kati Bumbera5 years ago in Fiction
Vanish
It took the smallest things to upset Master Casimir. He was the young prince of the royal family I'd been assigned to attend to. I helped him dress, brought him his food, cleaned his room, and anything else he ordered me to do. We were both young, but I was two years his senior at 20 years old. He'd only just become an adult, though he acted more like a spoiled child.
By Crystal Clark5 years ago in Fiction
Hidden Worlds Petting Zoo & Reserve
The ancient barn stood on a field of young grass, crescented on its sunset side by a half-moon sliver of sylvan forest. Filling a dip in the land to its east, a limpid pond, lake-like in its depth and sparkling clarity, cupped the morning sunrise.
By Michelle Rose Diehl5 years ago in Fiction
