Series
Hidden Places (Part 6)
Previously in Part 5 Part 6: For all future references, let it be known: What Morty wants, Morty gets. Penny got pissed the other day. That’s the start of this whole thing, right there. Vance has a way of getting under her skin, that’s all. She’s been on-again, off again mad at him for years. She knows it; she tries to will it away; she can’t.
By Paula Shablo5 years ago in Fiction
The joys of summer
I can't believe it is almost September. Summer where have you gone? Soon we will be having frost on the pumpkin, first freezes then snow. But again what happened to summer? The long hot days, the cool nights. The singing of a whipper will in the trees, or the sight of the cardinal in flight? What happened to nice home grown tomatoes, watermelon, and strawberries? The walking outside to see the dew on the ground. I also like the occasional evening thunderstorm to cool down a hot day. That is such good sleeping weather.
By Lawrence Edward Hinchee5 years ago in Fiction
Runners of the Underground
The tables in the library had hundreds of books stacked on top of them. Even the chairs were filled with parchments, maps, and extra books. It had only been a few hours of Edgar showing Antoinette around the paper filled room. Handing her books he thought she would need to study. Tossing her rolled up maps of the city so she would know her way around the streets. As well as the only few maps the angelic order had of the underground tunnels. He knew she would need those soon enough.
By Sierra Lynn5 years ago in Fiction
Agency of the 5th World Head Mission 6: Operation: Spy & Seek (Original Version)
Previous Mission First Mission <Original Plotline by Jeremiah and Nic Ellison I do not own Club Penguin, Pokémon, or Super Smash Bros. Club Penguin belongs to Disney. Pokémon belongs to Nintendo, Game Freak, and the Pokémon Company. Super Smash Bros. belongs to Nintendo along with respective character ownership rights.>
By Jeremiah Ellison5 years ago in Fiction
Beast
Princess Blanche sleeps soundly beside my campfire, surrounded by my companions. By all appearances she is a sweet, innocent fourteen-year-old girl, as helpless as a kitten. I feel responsible for her. I feel an obligation to guard her safety and guide her judgment. I have to forcibly remind myself that two days ago, she had sent her Huntsman and seven Miners to kill my friends and me. Her own magical poison attack had rendered half of us, myself included, insensible. She is a formidable enemy.
By Deanna Cassidy5 years ago in Fiction
CYCLE IV
On a warm sunny day, a twenty-seven-year-old Lebanese woman reads beneath a pear tree. Her attention sways, hearing sounds of laughter from a distance. She glances to the side, observing the merriment of children. As she returns to her reading, her book slips from her lap. A handsome, tall man with long dark hair and kind eyes retrieves it for her.
By A. W. Knowland5 years ago in Fiction
Day of the Dragon: The Lasting Sunset
A piece of a five-part non-chronological series centred around the day of the dragon. __________________ The crop is looking fine this year, a pleasant sight for Felissa as she walks through the fields of wheat and barley. The crop heads are golden and plump, weighing down the long stalks that hold the heads aloft. Harvest is quickly approaching. Perhaps only two weeks from now Felissa will be in the fields with her father from dawn till dusk, sweltering through the hot days and listening to her father straining against his sore back.
By Eloise Robertson 5 years ago in Fiction
Door to the Mind
_____________PART 1_____________ I navigate the long corridor lined with doors on either side. The wallpaper was like something you would see in a movie. Red and yellow stripes drizzle the walls like caramel. I continue to walk down the corridor until I see the end of the hallway come into view. Every door I had tried to open was locked up until now, but the door in front of me was different. It is a brass color with intricate carvings lining the frame, and they slip around the rough corners like snakes. I rub the carvings gently. The rigidity of the carvings contrasts the smooth look of the brass. The frame is also warm to the touch like it is being heated from the other side. I hesitate to open the door, but I feel an urge to open it. Disregarding the wrenching discomfort of terror in my stomach I open the door. The corridor is blasted with a huge wave of heat. I hear a voice in the back of my head say, “Go through the door.” I cannot disobey the voice, so I continue through the doorway. The light coming from the other side is immense, nearly blinding. I take a few steps out into the new terrain. It is a vast desert with nothing for what seems like miles and miles. The horizon is plastered into the sky like an oil painting. Heat waves crash up the sides of the dunes like strong waves. I find myself atop one of the largest dunes nearby. I am already sweating profusely, and the sweat stains on my shirt are drying faster than I can cool off. Then I hear a new command say, “Go back.” I turn around to go back through the door, but it is gone. I start to panic a little bit, but another command booms in the back of my mind. “Walk until you find an exit” it commands. I start walking into the scorching desert, descending the gradual slope of the massive dune I am stationed on.
By Christian Johnston5 years ago in Fiction
No More Chances
As the cool steel of his blade kissed my neck, his face contorted in rage. How easy it is to play with the emotions of men, I think to myself. A wry smirk forms on my lips, and the knight’s anger turns to confusion, a spark of fear even flashing across his eyes. With a simple gesture of my hand, he flew back across the hall, his armor scattering around him and revealing his human frailty. “Don’t threaten me, boy.” I gibe. In an instant, I’m standing before him, reaching down to grab his throat before slamming him against the wall. “Tell your ‘King’ I choose war.” I kept him pinned a second longer before dropping him to the floor in a callous display, taking his chance to flee with my message to his ruler. Once alone, I apparate back to my throne and rest my head on my hand, thinking back to a few months ago when this all started.
By Alice Farmer5 years ago in Fiction
