Humor
Purple Glasses in Walmart
I heard once that it’s impossible to read in a dream. Reading involves a separate part of the brain than what is active during dreaming, apparently. Last night I dreamt about walking around a Walmart. I strolled through the cereal aisle skimming the shelves with my hand. A box of cheerios crashed to the floor in front of me before I even touched it. My mother used to exclusively buy cheerios. She always insisted they were better for our “growing bodies” than other cereals. I insisted they gave me trauma flashbacks. In the seventh grade my eldest brother and his brute friends force fed me a shoelace that had been soaked in rain that morning; it dried crunchy, and tasted almost like cheerios. Bending down to pick up the box, I noticed a rip in the side. I ripped it all the way open. There was a sketch of dinosaur bones on the inside of the box, scribbled in thick black sharpie. And next to the drawing were instructions... that I could read. This was the moment I knew it was not a dream. It was a vision. There was a dinosaur buried under Walmart and I had to find it.
By Natalie Scivally4 years ago in Fiction
Mishaps and Popping
There weren't always dragons in the Valley. Come to think of it, there weren't always dragons, and Vinter Crushem wasn't always a mad scientist. Well, maybe he was always a mad scientist. Perhaps it was his overactive drive to invent new things, or the fumes from his many concoctions having seeped into his brain, Vinter had since been labeled mad and a criminal to boot after his new creation began self-multiplying and wreaking mischievous havoc all across the kingdom.
By James Willis4 years ago in Fiction
Dragon Business
There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. Once upon a time and not so long ago, Tranquil Valley was filled with lush trailing vines, laden with delicately scented blooms. Graceful towering trees gave shade to the tiny, brightly plumed songbirds. Iridescent butterflies shimmered in the air, and when the twin suns rose over the mountains, the sparkling waterfalls were nothing short of breathtaking. Travelers came from all corners of the Three Kingdoms to behold the beauty of Tranquil Valley, and the money they spent on food and ale, lodging and cunningly carved souvenirs kept all nine picturesque Villages of the Valley prosperous and content. Then one day Lars the Mariner came riding home over the pass, with a gift for his five year old daughter.
By Suzanne Cowhard4 years ago in Fiction
Downscaled
There weren't always dragons in the Valley. Everyone, especially Bertha "Bertie" Winters, agreed that it was all former Mayor Greene's fault. While Bertie did owe her very nice cottage to the Stone Valley Retirement Community, she laid the blame for having to replace the thatch roof - three times so far - squarely on the Mayor's doorstep. Some argued that the idea of getting a tax break for the struggling town for agreeing to host a "community for those over sixty years old" and not checking the fine print was an understandable mistake, but Bertie wasn't having it. What kind of ninny didn't read the fine print? She had no less than four magnifying glasses herself.
By Melissa Coy4 years ago in Fiction
A Dragon's Tale
There weren't always dragons in the Valley. "Duck!" Before I have a chance to find the defenseless little bird that seems to be grabbing someone's attention, I'm knocked off my feet. One of the many dragon's around here, glides right through where I was standing.
By Marissa La Roche4 years ago in Fiction
The Kingdom of Come Again?
There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. Nor, for that matter, were there any now. In fact, you could go up to just about any Valley dweller while they were going about on their merry business and ask them: “So, what of these dragons, eh?” And quite likely, they would scratch their nose and respond with something like: “What’s a dragon?” or “Come again, mate?”
By Hans-Manuel de Biekieper4 years ago in Fiction
Into The Vale
There weren't always dragons in the Valley. To the humans, it was a safe haven. To me, it looked like an opportunity. Growing up, Mama always warned me and my sisters that the Valley was not safe for dragons. Yes, those humans might look delicious, but some of them had arms sharp enough to cut through dragon hide, and others had tamed terrible beasts capable of spitting trees into the sky. And then there was the air down there, all thick and flammable. Better to stay up on the peaks and plateaus, snatching mouflon and geese and trolls, than to risk the Valley, where you were more likely to accidentally set yourself on fire than to wrap your jaws around a tender blacksmith.
By Tom Brailli4 years ago in Fiction
Ava & The Honeybees
There weren’t always Dragons in the Valley. .. Ava sniffed the air, her big paws treading softly through a gnarly blue scrub of heather. She was close, very close, to the tree her grandfather had described: a huge old trunk of wild cherry, bursting with the thick golden juice of the bees, dripping with clusters of buttery white comb. She could taste it already—she had been dreaming of tasting it for a whole year, ever since old Grizzle Beard had told her about it one summer night, as they sat beside the fire together and drank blackberry mead. Ava wasn’t supposed to drink mead—she was far too young, her mother said—but she was twelve years old already, and she felt very grown-up. She was more grown-up, she thought, than her brother, Stub Ear, who was sixteen, and prone to fits of sulkiness, and playing moody songs on his lute. And she was far more grown-up than the twins, Tor and Torvald, who were only five years old, and very silly, and also cried a good deal. In fact, it was quite noisy in the big grey cave along the cliffs of Mór-Dune, which her family called home. The twins were almost always whinging about something, and her mother’s grumbling was incessant. She was glad to be out in the woods. She just wished Grizzle Beard could have come with her.
By KJ Karlsson4 years ago in Fiction
Four Day Weekend. Top Story - June 2022.
"There weren't always dragons in the valley." "Shut the fuck up Nat," Jenny snickered a laugh. "I thought the last couple months would've made your tolerance better, not worse." She took the blunt back from Natalie.
By Tinka Boudit She/Her4 years ago in Fiction
